#(I’m going to turn you into a piece of spaghetti)

[for-some-reason-i-can-hold-light]

m!a: hippity hoppity, you are now pure light until the end of april 1st

[Well shit-]

[How the hell do I wear a robotic arm now???]

[Though I guess if Ludeius can have a physical form while being pure light, I, as the mortal incarnation or whatever the hell I am, can figure it out too.]

[kesujo]

Unabashed Seduction

Tags: mommykink (...the rest of the tags are relatively vanilla, I think)

Warning: 17k words

The night was not turning out how I expected it to go.

I was dressed to kill, freshly washed, put on enough cologne to be noticeable but not too much as to be overbearing, spent probably close to half an hour styling my hair, even properly shaved my pubic hair and sprayed some ball toner for good measure too. I even scouted the bar before coming here; some friends had recommended this place as a great new spot to pick up chicks, but there hasn’t been one I’ve talked to that hasn’t been too wasted to feel good about taking back to my place.

“Sorry babe, I’d love to stay and chat some more but I gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

“Aaw, why?”

The girl I was currently talking to was hot, for sure, but I could pretty much smell the alcohol from her breath. “You make sure you get home safely, alrighty, princess?”

“Why don’t you take me home then?”

Her voice was filled with seductive intent, but I was long past the point of interest. “Sorry, sweetie. How about an Uber instead?”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she continued with her low, sultry tone, but when I didn’t budge, she switched to a whinier tone, “Come on, I’m dying to get fucked.”

I could feel her tits pressing up against my arm, but tempting as they were, there was no way she had the capacity to consent in her current state. “Give me a sec, ok?”

It took a few more minutes to send her on her way back home, leaving me back inside the bar, eyeing the rest of the crowd. There was no shortage of girls, but none of them caught my eye.

Tonight’s not my night, I guess.

Deciding that I better head home before some other drunk-out-of-her-mind chick decides she wants to go home with me and isn’t as good about giving up as the previous one, I downed the rest of my drink. Before I set out to leave, another last-minute scan of the crowd stopped me dead in my tracks when my eyes landed on her.

At first, all my eyes told me about her was that she was a fine piece of ass; the way that spaghetti-strap white dress hugged and accentuated her curves was sublime, the fabric stretching perfectly over her tight, plump ass sitting prettily atop the bar stool that somehow didn’t even seem to crease under her weight. But when she turned to the side to talk to the person next to her, the more than ample amount of cleavage spilling out of the top told me she had curves upstairs too; sure, she wasn’t as big I usually liked them, but the confidence with which she bared them more than made up for that. The side profile or her face told me that it wasn’t just her body that was fire: her lips were full and red, her eyebrows well-manicured and clean, her skin a perfect milky white with thighs that looked as soft as marshmallows, everything even down to her plunging neckline was perfection.

But where have I seen her before?

Before I could fully find the answer to that question, she turned back around, facing away from me to talk to someone on her other side.

Was she famous? She definitely had the looks for it. Or maybe she just had one of those faces that everyone seemed to recognize.

Stumped, I ended up pulling out my phone to take a picture of her to save the query for later. There was no way I would be able to come up with an answer given how buzzed I was at the moment. In that moment, while I was steadying my phone on her, something that I probably shouldn’t have caught on camera happened.

While her left hand was covering the top of her drink, her fingers were slim enough to give way to tiny cracks that allowed for something to be slipped between. She might’ve been secure in thinking that they were small enough to adequately protect her drink, but evidently was mistaken: while she was turned away talking to the gal to her right, the bartender took a quick look around, pulled something out from his pocket, and slipped a small, white tablet into her drink.

What the fuck?!

The tablet dissolved in an instant, the fizzles from the tablet vanishing just as quickly as it was plopped into her beverage.

Seeing that sobered me up pretty quickly. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to switch to video when I noticed the bartender taking one too many glances at her drink, and recorded the entire ordeal.

Was I seeing things correctly? Were they trying to use a date rape drug on her?

Watching the video over again, now that I was considerably less drunk, the identity of the woman came to me.

Oh shit, that’s Tiffany Young, isn’t it? That K-Pop girl who came to America to release a few English songs or something. They’re trying to pull this shit on a celebrity?

The more I replayed the few-seconds clip, the more certain I became. The amount of secrecy that the bartender employed, how abnormally quick his actions were for an innocent person, even the way the guy on Tiffany’s left seemed to share a knowing glance at the bartender before slipping in the mini-tablet.

However, when I looked up from my phone, to my horror, Tiffany had already placed the glass to her lips and downed the rest of the glass.

Laughter and cheers erupted from the group after she did so, Tiffany smiling along with them.

Maybe I saw seeing things incorrectly. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

The quick glance and smirk the bartender and the guy shared was all it took for me to stand up.

Now that I thought about it, all the guys who recommended me this place weren’t really ones to go to clubs much themselves. I had decided to overlook the rumors of this place’s reputation, of drunk girls often getting taken advantage of, in favor of listening to the recommendations of my friends, but having witnessed it with my own eyes, I now had no doubt those rumors were true. Which meant, if even the bartender was in on it, then calling for security was a gamble that I couldn’t afford to risk.

“Excuse me.”

I could barely hear myself over the overbearing music, and given how far I was from them, it was no wonder none of them reacted to me. From her actions to the way she was slightly slurring her words, I could tell she was already pretty drunk.

If she’s that drunk, then it probably won’t take long for those drugs to kick in.

My walk turned into a brisk pace, pushing and maneuvering through the crowd as I watched another shot disappearing down her gullet.

“Excuse me!”

This time, both my distance and volume were enough to get the attention of all four parties.

The guy sitting next to Tiffany was the one who responded first. “What’s up, dude?”

“What’s up is that you’re trying to fucking slip date rape drugs into this woman’s drinks, bitch.”

He stood up and, in an instant, was right in front of me, bumping his puffed-out chest against mine. Although he stood an inch or two above me, I stood my ground, unphased. “What did you say to me?”

“Exthuse me, wha…?”

“You heard me. Are you really so pathetic that you need to rely on drugs to get laid?”

He raised his arm with a balled fist, but I kept my eyes on him, unflinching. “You just jealous I get to talk to the hottest chick in the club? You trying to play white knight in a pathetic attempt to get into her pants?

“Ex—Excuse me!” The two of us stopped, our attention turning towards the slightly red-faced celebrity. “What did you thay--say? A … date wape—… dddate ww—rrrappe ddrrug?”

I nodded. “I have—”

“Come on Tiffany, are you really going to believe this desperate loser over me?”

“—as I was saying, I have video—”

“You’ve been talking to me all night—” Her eyes flickered back and forth between me and him, and I could tell that he was making good ground in convincing her otherwise. I needed to do something before I let these guys get away with it. “—and you’re suddenly going to trust this random guy who shows up? You’ve been fine so far, haven’t you?”

“Well … yeah, I hhavenn’t—” I shoved the screen with the playing video in front of her without another word. “—what’re—…” she quieted down as her eyes focused on the smartphone in my hands.

Very quickly, I could start to see the panic in the guy’s eyes. “What are you doing, showing her—” the guy swiped at my phone, causing it to fly out of my hands and over the bar counter.

“You saw enough though, right?”

The look she gave the guy was all the answer I need.

“What did—” from how much less she was slurring her words, I became hopeful it was a sign of sobering up after reaching the important part of the video, “—are you in on this with the bb—bartender?”

“What? The bar—no! What are you talking about?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his stammering. “If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t have smacked my phone out of my hand, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s a load of bullshit, I just knocked the phone out of your hand because—” a pause, a nervous twitch of his eyes and a quick sideways glance at the bartender, who I could tell was very deliberately staying away from this side of the bar considering how closely he was hovering around it not minutes before, before continuing, “—for all I know, you could’ve been showing her some doctored video, or some inappropriate stuff.”

“Right, and you expect Tiffany to believe that?”

The two of us turned to her, who at this point was trying to get the attention of the bartender. “Exthuse--Excuse me, bartender!” Her sharp, loud voice cut through the blaring music like a hot knife through butter, but even then, he barely moved. “Excuse me!” The volume of her voice rose, but still the bartender didn’t budge. She leaned over, the woman on her right having evidently slipped away without my noticing. “Excuse me!”

This time, Tiffany’s voice drew even the attention of the other patrons of the club, who started to glance over. Probably realizing he couldn’t play dumb anymore, he walked over. “Yes, how may I help you, miss?”

“There thoud—” she furrowed her brows, slowing down her speaking rate while enunciating her words more carefully, “—shoould be a phhonne oon the grround sommewhherre near yyou, can you ppick it up?”

“A phone?” He angled his head down and did a quick sweep of the enclosed bartending area, just as quickly looking back up with a shrug. “I don’t see a phone.”

“There must be—” her eyes narrowed, and in the corner of my eye, I could see her pressing her legs together, as if tensing, “—there must be, I saw it get knocked over. Can you look again?” He did the sweep with his eyes again, probably about 0.1 seconds slower this time, but Tiffany didn’t let it slide. “No,” she said, the clear frustration on her face worsening the slurring of her speech, “I mean down look—I mean, get down and look.”

“I’m sorry—was it your phone?”

Tiffany shook her head. I quickly glanced at the other guy, whose face was growing redder by the second. I grinned; checkmate, you fucking rapist.

“No, it was this—” again, a slight stutter in her words, and another quick glance at her allowed me to notice the slightly quicker rate at which her chest was heaving, and the fact that it was heaving in the first place, “—this gentleman’s.”

“In that case, no can do.”

“What?”

“I noticed the commotion he was causing earlier, and while it’s not my place to take sides in bar-side squabbles—” yeah right, you were the one who slipped in the drug “—what I can do is think to myself, out loud, that him losing his phone is probably not the worst thing that can happen to a man like him.”

“Are you saying you—are you saying that because you were drink—” Tiffany furrowed her brows in annoyance, her speech speeding up in clear parallel with her frustration but simultaneously causing her to trip over her words more, “—you were the one who slipped that white—white thing into my drink?”

Hearing that sentence, as broken as it was, was probably one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And that was coming from someone who has heard compliments from a porn actress that he fucks better than some of her coworkers.

“…Excuse me, what?”

“I saw the video,” she replied, still treading carefully over her words but still speaking with all the authority of a celebrity, “You slipped something between my fingers, into my drink, while I was looking away. I didn’t get to see the entire video because the phone was knocked onto the ground somewhere near you.” At this point, I could tell even the bartender was starting to have nervous sweats.

“I mean, if you let her watch the whole video, maybe she can have some good context as to what kind of a thing you slipped into her drink, right?”

“I’m—no, I’m sorry miss, it must’ve been a mistake. We’re a professional and well-known establishment—”

“Yeah, you’re certainly well-known alright,” I cut him off, poorly holding off a laugh, “well known for taking advantage of drunk women.”

“Bro, stop daydreaming. This is reality, you have to accept the fact that not every fucking woman in the world wants to sleep with you.”

“Yeah—”

“This white knight bullshit you’re doing is ridiculous, come on Tiffany, let’s—”

The man’s attempt to reach out to grab her wrist failed, Tiffany taking a hasty step back to dodge him, nearly stumbling into a backwards fall. Before I could reach out to catch her, her arm had shot out to the now unoccupied barstool behind her, setting herself back upright.

“No. I’m—” she quickly changed her standing stance, pushing her legs together again; this time, I couldn’t help but notice her face a little redder than before, but even more noticeable were the beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. Was that the drug starting to kick in? “—I’m—I can’t—” she took another hasty step back, stumbling again. This time, I was ready, my hand shooting out to grab her arm before she could fall onto the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here, first, Tiffany. I’ll call an Uber for you.”

“What do you think—”

“I have that video saved on my cloud. Do anything, follow us, and I’ll send that video straight to the police. Got it?”

The threat caused the pair to freeze in their tracks.

“Tiffany, can you walk?”

She nodded, but a few steps told the completely opposite story. Fortunately, I was prepared to catch her. “Sorry…”

“Not a problem. Let’s go.” I threw her arm around my waist and secured hers with my own arm, pushing through the crowd towards the exit.

We barely made it a few steps before Tiffany pulled at my shirt. “Wait—…”

“Damian.”

“—Damian.”

This time, when I looked at her, I could tell her condition had worsened even more; she was panting pretty heavily now, her forehead almost glistening with sweat, her face beet-red and her legs pressed firmly together. So that’s why it was so hard to walk; why was she so adamant about doing that? Was the drug creating some type of pain there?

“What’s wrong? Do I need to call 911?”

She shook her head. “Let’s sit down for a second.”

I acquiesced against my better judgement, finding a vacated table as far away from the crowd as I could find. As soon as we reached it, Tiffany all but collapsed onto the leather-padded booth seats, pulling me into the seat right next to her. “How are you feeling? Do I need to call anyone?”

“With what phone?”

Shit, that’s right. My phone.

“Eh, it’s not the first time I’ve lost my phone. I can just get another one.”

For some reason, that seemed to pique her interest. “What? ‘First time’?”

I thought back to that incident, where I found out the morning after one of the wilder nights of sex I’ve ever had that she was crazier out of bed than in it. “Never mind that, what’s wrong?”

She turned towards me, a look that was all-too-familiar look on her face. “Me.” She uncrossed her legs, probably the first time she willingly parted her legs ever since the drugs seemed to kick in, slinging an arm across my torso while her leg did the same across my lap. In barely a second, the dark-haired woman was straddling my lap, her arms looped around my neck, and an intense gaze bearing down on me. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“What?”

My attempts at trying to establish eye contact with her failed, her eyes instead electing to stare directly at my lips. I could slowly feel her pressing herself more firmly against my slowly-growing erection. “I feel like … I need you. Now.”

Oh, fuck.

That desperate lust in her eyes, the way she was starting to grind against my hardening member, the fullness of her lips and the redness of her face and the neckline of her spaghetti-strap top slowly being pushed down and revealing more of her cleavage, it was all getting too overwhelming.

She’s drunk. I need to stop this.

“Tiffany—”

“Just a little bit.”

I took a deep breath, reigning in my raging hormones, everything in my body that was yelling at me to go! “No.”

“Please?”

Calm down.

“You’re drunk—”

“Just a little bit, I promise.”

I was so distracted by trying to gather the strength to push the out-of-control celebrity off my lap that I was almost too late in catching her trying to undo the fly in my pants.

“Stop—Tiffany—”

The burgeoning relief in her face was instantly replaced with a frustration as my hands wrapped firmly around hers, bringing them back to her sides. God, I feel like I could accidentally snap these wrists at any moment. “I need you so bad, please…” she whined, grinding harder against my crotch after another failed attempt at advancing her hand towards it. It might’ve just been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn I could feel her arousal leaking out of her and onto my pants in liquid form. “…it hurts so much…”

Jesus, what the fuck kind of drug did they feed her that got her like this?

“Tiffany, you need to go back to your house—”

“No!” Her legs wrapped more tightly around my waist as I tried to slide her off me, simultaneously pressing those bountiful tits against my chest and planting her face against my collarbone. “I don’t—I can’t, not without—”

I took in another deep breath. Control yourself, Damian. Not only is this woman drunk, but she’s influenced by an evidently pretty strong aphrodisiac. She is doubly in no state to properly consent.

“Let’s find you some sleeping pills, then—”

She shook her head against my neck. “No no no, I don’t need more drugs, I need—I need your cock.”

I could just about feel the skin on my palm breaking with how tightly I was clenching my free hand. “Listen, Tiffany, as much as I would love to, you—”

“Then fuck me.”

“Listen to me.” The words unintentionally came out as a growl, and when I realized that, my face morphed into one of horrified realization. “Sorry, I—” And, just as quickly, my face morphed into that of confusion. Why did she look even more turned on?

“Yeah, punish me daddy, I’ve been—”

“No, stop.” I mustered every last ounce of strength I had to capture both of her arms, settling them at her sides. “Tiffany, I don’t mean to be rude, but please don’t interrupt me.” I didn’t know if my frustration was leaking through or if she was going through with the roleplay she manufactured out of nowhere, but frankly, I didn’t care: I was just thankful she had finally decided to settle down. “You’re drunk. You were fed some drug that’s making you like this. That is two reasons you can’t consent when normally one would suffice. Do you understand?” She didn’t respond, unperturbed, as if the words went in one ear and out the other. I did tell her not to interrupt, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t even shake or nod her head. “Listen, you need to go home and get some sleep. Before something happens to you that can’t be undone.” Again, she didn’t respond, maintaining strong eye contact with a smile on her face. “Do you understand?” No response. Was she really intending to maliciously comply with my request for her to not interrupt me? “Answer me.”

“Hm? What?”

I sighed. The words really went in one ear and out the other, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t expect too much out of someone as obscenely drunk as her. “I said—”

“You talk too much.”

“Don’t inter—”

This time, it wasn’t Tiffany’s words that interrupted me, but her actions: namely, when she leaned forward and, with an amount of accuracy unbefitting a drunk person, promptly silenced me with her lips.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the soft, velvety texture of her plump lips for a second, which were every bit as amazing to kiss as they looked, before pulling away.

“Tiff—”

She manually silenced me again, with such accuracy I was beginning to wonder if she was actually drunk or not. But all I needed to do to answer that question was to taste the alcohol on her lips.

It took a second longer to shake her off again, but she was persistent. “Wait—”

With my hands busy holding her wrists in place, I could do nothing but try to dodge her assault. But, when I realized this scene, of a woman seemingly attempting to sexually assault a man, would only draw more attention, I stopped resisting as much. Tiffany, taking full advantage of the fact, leaned further into the kiss, wasting no time in involving her tongue.

And fuck me if it wasn’t the hottest make out session I’ve ever had, with probably the hottest chick I’ve ever kissed, but the ever-present aftertaste of alcohol ruined any attempt of mine at trying to get into the mood.

When my grip of her wrists vanished, her arms instantly came up, looping around my neck to pull me deeper into the kiss. But despite all the strength she was finally allowed to use, she was still no match for me. “Tiffany, bed.”

Those words were the only ones I could get out before I lost control of her again, but thankfully, she seemed to hear them over the blaring music of the club. “Oh, you’re finally ready?”

I smirked, which apparently was all the answer Tiffany need to climb off me.

And to think I almost retired early to avoid the clingy girls who couldn’t say no, only to end up with one anyway.

“There’s a hotel just down the block.”

Thankfully, this time, Tiffany didn’t protest, obediently following a few steps behind me as we exited the club and into the brisk early-autumn night. Obedient as she was, I could still tell how horny she was by how tightly she clung onto and how she had returned to the strange tight-legged walk, an action that I finally understood the meaning of: she was trying to contain her wetness, something that I confirmed had leaked onto my pants. Thankfully, they were dark enough so as to not be noticeable.

Although the walk was brief, I was thankful we weren’t stopped or even around many other people; the only delay was at the hotel counter, where I briefly considered what type of room I should get before quickly deciding to get the most expensive suite of the hotel. This was Tiffany Young after all, and with what almost happened to her, she probably needed it.

“Thank you for your patronage!”

The lady behind the counter bowed politely, but I could feel her gaze lingering on me as I dragged Tiffany onto the elevator, keycard in hand. I couldn’t blame her; with how heavy Tiffany’s panting has gotten, with how flushed her face had become, with how much she was pressing herself against me, it probably looked like I was the one who fed her that date-rape, aphrodisiac, whatever-it-was drug to her. At least Tiffany noticed too and was thankfully sound-minded enough to quell those suspicions, but even so, I could tell she figured something was off.

The doors to the elevator barely closed before Tiffany was all over me again, lips going straight to my nape while her arms and legs attempted to snake around my body.

“Damn it—” No, I’m pretending like I’m continuing this in the room “—at least wait until we get into the room.”

“Wait?”

“Someone might see.”

Tiffany paused for a second, shooting me a dangerously seductive smile. “Let them watch.”

Oh, fuck. I stopped to take a deep breath, again trying to reign in my raging hormones, stifling the image of Tiffany riding my cock in this elevator while the door opened to reveal a horrified yet turned on audience. This woman is drunk and affected by that bartender’s drugs. I can’t—

Out of the corner of my eyes, a glimpse of her cleavage caught my attention. Before I knew it, my eyes had fallen onto them, completely captivated.

It was only when the elevator dinged that I snapped out of it.

I can’t let myself lose control. Fuck, why is she doing this to me? Why do I feel like I can’t control myself when I’m around her?

“Tiff—” I had to almost lift Tiffany up and carry her out of the elevator with how little regard she gave to the fact that we had stopped ascending, “—Tiffany, we’re here.”

Getting to the suite and unlocking it with the keycard was already a decently hard task when a woman was wrapped around me, but even harder when that woman was Tiffany. Every time she pressed her tits against my arm, every time she planted another kiss on my jaw, every time her hands slid across my abs, I wanted to stop what I was doing, pin her against the door I was struggling with, rip that pretty little dress off her lecherous body and ravish her right then and there—but that wasn’t what I was here for.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I squatted down and picked Tiffany up in one fluid motion, a squeal erupting from the surprised celebrity. “Ooh, what’re you gonna do to me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Thankfully, the walk to the bed was short, so Tiffany didn’t have much more time to respond before I dumped her onto the soft mattress. The light of the half-moon streamed through the huge glass pane in the bedroom, illuminating Tiffany’s figure strewn haphazardly across the white blankets of the bed. In contrast to the beautiful sight was her beet-red face, the sizable mounds on her chest heaving hard enough to be noticeable, her hands already having disappeared under the bottom half of her dress that was barely clinging onto her well-shaped curves. It took me what felt like a full minute to bring my suddenly spiking hormones down to a controllable level.

“Dam-Damian?”

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom first. I’ll be right back.”

I was going to regret this. Or maybe I wasn’t.

This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fuck such an irresistibly sexy and unforgivingly erotic woman, a globally-known singer, known by many, loved by many, and lusted over by many … when was it ever going to present itself to me?

No. I have to be content, knowing that, at least, I didn’t let Tiffany do anything she might regret.

… But fuck, if only she wasn’t drunk, if only she gave me any reason to believe she could consent, then—

“Wait! –you’re lying!”

—then I would— “What?”

“You didn’t even look like you were in a rush.” Her words were spoken slowly, still somewhat slurred, but I could still very clearly distinguish every syllable that was coming out of her mouth. “Are you trying to ditch me?”

Being able to figure that out means that she’s at least sober enough to use her brain enough to properly consent, right?

It didn’t take a second for me to be disgusted with myself for thinking that. With how obviously drunk she was a second ago, there was no way she was sober enough to properly consent—that aside, listening to her speak was already evidence enough for her lingering drunkenness. “No, I’m not ditching you. I’ll be right there, ok, Tiffany?”

“Don’t lie to me!”

It was so hard to continue resisting the urge to give in. It felt like everything was working against me: how horny Tiffany had made me, the feeling of regret for walking away from such a golden opportunity, picturing what Tiffany looked like naked and imagining what it would be like to fuck her, that escalating voice trying to convince me that it was ok, even Tiffany herself was trying to stop me.

Just keep walking, Damian.

“Don’t look down on me just because I’m a little drunk! Is that what you’re worried about?”

I scoffed, turning around. “Please, I fuck drunk girls all the time.”

Apparently, doing that was the wrong move. “See, you’re lying! It’s so obvious!”

Fuck, why did I have to be such a bad liar?

But the fact that she could tell that I was lying was yet another indication that she’s sober enough to consent, isn’t it?

“No, I—” I let out a frustrated sigh. “—I’m sorry Tiffany, have a good night—”

Before I could sprint off, her brows furrowed and she keeled over in pain.

I barely had time to consider if it was an act before I was already at her side, hand gently patting her back. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts…”

“What? What does?” At least it doesn’t seem like she was acting, with how she hasn’t attacked me yet. “Do you need me to get you some medicine?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then what…?”

“It hurts,” she repeated, and when my eyes followed where her arms were leading to, the realization hit the moment she said the clarifying words, “My pussy. It hurts so bad.”

Was that an actual thing? Did there exist such a drug that made a woman so horny, her pussy would start hurting?

“What are you—” I couldn’t even bring myself to accuse her of lying though. With how much she was sweating and how badly she was groaning—either she was one hell of an actress, or the drugs were really hurting her that badly.

See? Not only is she probably mentally sound enough to consent, but she actually needs you. It would be a disservice, both to myself and to her, to just walk away.

For the first time in my life, I conceded to my lust.

“I’ll help you.”

She turned her head towards me, looking at me weakly. “R-Really?”

I reached down and flung the shirt off my body. I could feel Tiffany’s gaze lasering in on my well-defined abs as I climbed onto the bed, one hand landing on her arm while the other on her stomach. “You better not regret asking for this.”

My hands went between her legs, but before they even reached their destination, I could feel the heat emanating from her privates. Holy shit, that drug is really something else…

“No—ah, fuck…” her protest was cut short when my hand found its target, the tips of my fingers instantly getting soaked upon pressing against her burning sex.

“Look at this, you’re so wet.”

“Damian—ah, ah, fuck!”

Her hands fell to her sides, her legs spreading further apart, her dress hitching up to her hips, bucking desperately into my fingers as they played with her soaking wet folds. Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arching slightly off the soft mattress, lips parted and head thrown back.

“It must’ve been hard, hiding all of this—” I withdrew my hand, showing Tiffany, whose eyes opened back up as soon as my hands left her, her slick clinging onto my digits, “—huh?”

“Please, Damian. It hurts…”

“It hurts?”

She nodded, her next sentence cut short with another shrill moan as I pushed three digits deep into her sex.

“Fuck, oh my—oh, oh, fuck—”

Her eyes slammed shut again as I pumped the three fingers inside her, curling them against her fleshy, sticky walls. “Does it still hurt?”

The only response Tiffany could give was the string of moans tumbling out of her mouth, squirming and legs tensing at the feeling of my fingers rubbing the fleshy interior of her vagina. The thumb, having nothing else to do, brushed over her labia, activating more of the nerves on the sensitive part of her nethers.

Tiffany communicated her pleasure well, but I could tell she wanted more. Her sighs and moans seemed to be coming out of her mouth in place of words she wanted to say, her hands were lightly placed at her stomach as if unsure if she should pull me further in or push me out, her eyes looked on at me with lust but also with the same desperation that initially drew me in.

“Dam—Damian, I can’t, I need—” she threw her head back again, letting out something between a squeal and a moan as my fingers curled inside her love canal.

Ah, so that’s her G-spot, huh?

“Oh fuck, right there—” she let loose another loud moan as I again curled my fingers into that spot inside her. That one action caused the idol to completely forget about the request she was about to make, her legs subconsciously spreading further as I continued to rub the sensitive spot inside her.

“What did you need?”

“More—fuck Damian, right there, yes!”

“You like that? When I put pressure right there?”

Tiffany’s only response was to scream out in pure ecstasy. I couldn’t help but grin at that, drinking in the delectable sight of Tiffany squirming on the bed, dress hanging onto her body for dear life, long eyelashes shut, full, red lips parted, every bit of her curvaceous body twisting and turning at my every move. Maybe this night wasn’t going as badly as I initially thought it was.

“Yes! More, please, more!”

To add onto the beautiful sight before me was the equally beautiful sound of her begging, her persistent moans, joined only by the occasional squeaking and shaking of the bed. I wondered if we were disturbing any of our neighbors who almost definitely were already asleep, but quickly realized I didn’t care in the slightest.

“I wonder how many times I must’ve saved the world in my previous life to get the chance to do this to such a beauty like you.”

It felt like barely any time had passed, but I could already feel the pussy of the Korean-American celebrity start tightening around my fingers, hear the increasingly erratic panting and moaning from her lips, the wild ferocity with which her legs thrashed and her toes curled: all the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. And while I would’ve loved to claim it was my immaculate skills with my fingers, nothing else but the interference of the drug could reasonably explain her state of near-climax so soon after I started.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t know fingers could feel so good inside me…”

Her voice was breathless, her forehead glistening with sweat, but this time, instead of a visage of pained frustration that she wore while in the club, her face was now etched with that of pure ecstasy.

“I’m close, a little more, please…”

The words came out almost as a breathless whisper, a final plead for release, the strain in her voice, and the lust pouring out from every square inch of Tiffany’s delectable body; seeing a woman squirm and twist as she succumbed to her orgasm was one of the reasons I became so practiced at using my fingers, but with Tiffany, that feeling turned up to eleven. I didn’t want to just see her cum, I wanted to see her completely lose herself. I wanted to see her become a mess, I wanted her to forget her own name as she squirted all over me, the bed, everything.

That was exactly why, in the final moments before her climax, I shoved my face between her legs, exposing her clit with my thumb, surrounded the sensitive nub with my lips, and gave it a firm suck.

The suite erupted with Tiffany’s ecstatic screams, a translucent jet of her ejaculate hitting me square in the jaw. I recovered quickly, lifting my head out from between her legs while letting her ride my fingers as the singer unleashed a beautiful melody of ecstasy and pleasure. I sat there and watched the beautifully erotic sight before me, of her voluptuous body violently shaking and her head pushed as far back into the pillow as it could go and her legs tensing and vibrating as jet after jet of her cum sprayed past my fingers and onto my arms and stomach.

After she pushed past that peak, her screams and moans turned into sighs and whimpers, the last bits of her cum dribbling out of her womanhood like a leaky faucet.

“Look at you, the famous Tiffany Young, well-renowned global superstar, reduced to a sexy mess. What millions of people wouldn’t give to see you squirting so hard, I wonder.” Her eyes landed on the shirt I was wearing, now shining from being drenched with her fluids. “Looks like you owe me two now: one, for that orgasm, and two, for this shirt.”

It took Tiffany a few seconds to recover, a slight shudder running up her body as I extracted my fingers from her soaking wet heat, but when she did, her demeanor changed on a dime. “I’m so sorry,” she answered with a noticeable pout on her lips, shifting into a sitting position and then into a crawl, facing me. “Let me pay you back for that, baby.”

What is going on?

Very clearly, Tiffany’s desperation vanished—or at least, simmered down—but her confident, very intentionally seductive gaze, her low crawl that gave me an eyeful of her ample cleavage and hints at her light-brown areola, her every movement and action oozed of a sex appeal that my erection roared back to life in response to.

“Poor baby, working so hard for mommy’s sake.” Ok, that was something I was … surprisingly fine with?

Fuck, why does this woman fuck with my head so much?

“Does my baby want a reward?”

“I’m—” it had to be my unfamiliarity with this territory, or maybe a better word was discomfort, that gave me a moment of hesitation. “—um, yes, please.”

“Yes please, what?”

I knew where this was going, but resisting seemed meaningless. Rather, resisting it seemed more painful than trying to change her mind. “Yes please, mommy.”

The word felt incredibly foreign on my tongue and was probably noticeable by how awkwardly it tumbled out of my mouth. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Tiffany; whether it was she didn’t mind or because of how clearly lustful she still was, I wasn’t sure of.

“Good boy.”

I watched her from my seated position, legs splayed out towards her while leaning back on my arms that were planted on the slightly tussled blanket of the suite’s bed, as she prowled towards me like a hungry cheetah stalking its prey. Usually, I liked to be the cheetah, but with Tiffany, everything felt different. It just felt so natural to play the prey. Hell, I wanted her to hunt me down.

Wait.

I caught myself with that thought.

What the fuck? Why did I just think that?

It felt so incomprehensible to me, the supernatural phenomenon that was Tiffany’s sex appeal. The lustful gaze in her eyes, the seductive way she carried her sinfully sultry figure, the confidence in her husky voice, the sheer desire and aphrodisia in her every movement, her full, red lips, her large and striking eyes, her ample bust peeking through the ruffled top of her dress, the soft curves of her hips and the wider curve of her romp—was it one of these things, or a combination of all of them? Submitting went against everything I thought I knew about myself, but perhaps the more frightening thing was that I welcomed it.

She stopped while hovering a few inches above me, her eyes directed straight down at my crotch. So, it felt pretty fair to stare slightly down and forward, right into the more-than-eyeful of tits that her tousled top bared to me. I could very easily tell that she was probably a B-cup, but they were somehow infinitely more enchanting than the C-cups and D-cups I was used to.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe B-cups were great too. Or, maybe it was just Tiffany—maybe it was simply the fact that they were hers that drew my eyes towards them.

“Damian, baby, help me with this?”

I snapped out of the trance I was in, my eyes falling further down and falling on Tiffany, struggling with my belt.

“Sure thing.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips pulling into a pointed frown. “You mean, ‘yes, mommy’.”

“Um—” The reminder of my unfamiliarity with this type of roleplay hit me again, but the thought that this would only be a concern for tonight put my mind a little bit more at ease. “—yes, mommy.”

Shortly after my belt flew off, so too did my pants and boxers, leaving my hardened cock pointed straight at the ceiling of the luxurious hotel room. “Aww, poor baby, were you holding this in the entire time?”

I couldn’t get over the motherly sympathetic tone she was employing nor the slight pout on her lips, nor the strangest thing: how much it turned me on.

What the fuck? Am I secretly a sub?

“Um—” I stuttered, my mind slowly trying to piece together the ‘appropriate’ things to say in our current roleplay, “—y-yes, it hurts so much mommy.” Just saying those words, completely undirected, was so cringe-inducing that I nearly physically reacted to them, but seeing the reward in Tiffany’s face lighting up in reaction to them blew that embarrassment away.

“Does my baby want mommy to give the booboo a kiss?”

I nodded. “Please, mommy, it hurts so much.”

The words weren’t entirely false either; my penis was already pretty stiff from seeing Tiffany cum like that, but experiencing the reality-defying whirlwind of Tiffany’s lustful demeanor stiffened my dick even more, to the point of pain.

“Of course, sweetie.” She hardly waited for my nod in response before lowering her head to my crotch, holding her hair with her left hand while the other rested on my thigh to stabilize herself. My breath hitched as she stopped centimeters from my erect cock, the hot air puffing out from her lips hitting my hardened shaft. “Oh my, my baby has grown really big, hasn’t he?”

I grimaced, my legs tensing as her velvety lips brushed the sensitive tip of my dick. Instantly, a sliver of precum trickled out in response; and, just as quickly, Tiffany’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to collect the fluid. “We can’t be wasting any of that, can we?”

The smile she shot at me following, her lips pulled into an upward curve and her eyes disappearing into crescent moons curved the opposite direction, made me completely forget who I was or what I was doing for a second.

“You have such a beautiful smile.”

It took a few seconds to realize the words had come out of my mouth, but when I did, the realization came too late.

Shit, I forgot again.

I opened my mouth to correct myself, but Tiffany beat me to it. “You’re such a sweetie, Damian. Let mommy give you a reward.” Her left hand left the back of her head, her silky jet-black hair subsequently tumbling down the sides of her head, the fingers of her right hand gingerly wrapping themselves around the circumference of my cock. I let out a hiss as her slim digits enclosed it in a tight embrace, her soft palms caressing its length. And while the feeling of her fingers tightening around my dick was pleasurable in and of itself, the visual made it all the sexier: her strikingly flawless face centimeters away from the object of her adoration, her piercing eyes magnetized to it, her beautiful fingers pressed firmly against the now fully erect penis, her lips slowly parting and the gorgeous sheen of hair framing her face as she began to pump it.

“Fu—” This time, I was able to catch myself before I let loose the swear that was building up inside my throat. “—mommy, that feels so good.”

“I’m glad. Do you mind helping me hold my hair, baby?” I happily obliged, reaching around her to collect the amazingly soft curtain of black surrounding her face and pulling it into a ponytail behind her. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, mommy.”

I barely noticed how fluidly the words came out of my mouth until after Tiffany resumed her handjob. But I didn’t have anything to worry about, it was just Tiffany that was making me like this. The pleasure and satisfaction I felt being the more dominant and controlling one with all the other women I’ve fucked was very real. I wasn’t a closet-sub, it was just Tiffany that was fucking with my head.

Right?

“My baby boy really has grown so big, mommy is very proud of you~”

“Thank you, mommy.”

My fists were clenched and my voice came out strained. The handjob she was giving me, in combination with the lascivious visual of her beautiful face placed so close to my dick and the amount of her tits that became visible from the low-cut of her dress hanging down from her position hovering over me, caused something that should’ve been just foreplay to bring me closer to the edge than I would’ve ever expected a simple handjob to be capable of.

“Did you enjoy mommy’s milk from before?”

“Milk?” My eyes again landed on her tits, her already-erect nipples all but visible with the angle she was at. “Oh!” She meant her cum, not from her boobs. It was a shame, too, because almost since I first laid my eyes on her and that more-than-ample cleavage, I was wondering what those puppies would feel like in my hands. And my mouth. “Yes, I did, mommy.”

The knowing grin Tiffany shot in return told me that she was privy to how much I was lusting after her milk jugs, replying, “Do you want more of mommy’s milkies?”

I nodded fervently. “Yes, please.” My haste stemming from impatience resulted in my blowing over my established role, something that didn’t by well with Tiffany. Her eyes furrowing was the catalyst for remembering, leading me to add, “—mommy.”

Her lips curled back up into a content smile. “Then, you’ll have to pay mommy back by giving her your milk too, ok?”

I nodded with equal fervor. “I’ll try my best, mommy.”

She shot me another heart-stopping eye smile. “Good boy.” Her hands left his penis and down to the hem of her dress, tugging at the spaghetti-strap top to no avail. Her smile turned into a frown, becoming more pronounced with each unsuccessful tug of her dress.

Damn it, she’s too drunk after all?

The sobering thought faded to the background when Tiffany decided to change tactics, her hands traveling up her body, her fingers looping around the top of her dress and pulling it down. Her boobs popped out, the bounce from the release of tension after being freed. I felt my eyes glazing over, gaze stopping at the plump, marshmallow-y mounds of flesh sitting on her chest, adorned with light-chocolate colored areola and darker, swollen nipples sitting atop the peaks.

Actually, you know what, B-cups are just as amazing as C-cups or D-cups. I’ve definitely been too picky in the past.

“Damian, help?”

There was something about the cute sight of her pouty visage contrasting with the erotic sight of her bare breasts sitting a few inches below those pouting lips that stirred something within me. The usage of cuteness in bed was something that always turned me off—women who employed it on me in the past have led me to stop everything on more than one occasion—but with Tiffany, it only turned me on more. At this point, I had grown tired of asking myself why this was happening. It was much easier to just accept it and let myself feel my arousal deepen one level still.

What I was shocked by was how long it had taken me to realize Tiffany needed help with her dress, and how I hadn’t offered to help already. “How rude of me—” Shit, that’s not how I’m supposed to be speaking. “—I mean, of course, mommy.”

I had been so distracted by her tits that I had completely disregarded her struggling, disregarded basic bedside manners, in favor of staring at her boobs. But honestly, I felt like I couldn’t even be blamed; even if they were on the smaller side, they were somehow just as sexy, if not more so. The fullness of its shape, the tautness of the skin, the plush appearance of its texture, the purity of its snowy-white color, the contrasting almond-colored areola and the even more contrastingly darker-brown teats standing up and away proudly from her body, how squeezable and bitable the enlarged buttons looked—remembering the roleplay Tiffany had casted us in was the only thing preventing me from jumping on her and ravishing them.

When the dress came off her body, I couldn’t help but find myself enamored with her legs next; they were on the slim side but had clear hints of muscles in her upper thighs, sloping upwards gracefully for what seemed like miles before curving out at her hips. The skin was just as unblemished, taut, and a perfect shade of pearly-white as the rest of her body, with slight hints of bruising on her knees that made my imagination go wild as their origins. Her legs were just as pleasant to touch as they were to look at; as my hands ran over her shins, up to her knees, and up to her thighs, I relished in the addictingly soft texture of her skin. “Your—mommy’s legs are so pretty.”

“Thank you, baby, but if you want mommy’s help, then you’ll have to be patient for a little bit longer.” I nodded, pushing myself back into a sitting position on the bed as Tiffany shifted into a kneeling position, tucking her legs under her thighs. “Come here,” she said, gently patting her lap. I obeyed immediately, turning around and resting my head on her soft thighs, face-up, with the rest of my body splayed out away from her, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Part of me still felt weird obeying the commands of this mysteriously powerful woman, like some kind of needy puppy, but the bigger part of me didn’t care about dignity, shame, what I thought I knew of my own identity, any of it. Was it truly some kind of magnetic power she had, that drew in an dominated the will of any man she wanted, or was I just too lost in my own lust? Or, was there even a difference?

My obedience was rewarded when Tiffany, after seeing that I was sufficiently settled in her lap, leaned down and over me, presenting the object of my desire just moments ago inches away from my face. I craned my head up but was stopped by the woman whose lap my head was laying upon. “Before milkies, promise mommy that Damian will say when his milk is about to come out. Ok?”

“Yes, mommy,” I replied, nodding eagerly to her proposition.

“Good boy. Here you—ah!” Something between a moan and a squeal interrupted her as I took the erect nub into my mouth and rolled my tongue over it. My hands came around, all but sinking into the plush texture of her tits.

Fuck, they’re so soft…

I became so preoccupied with her boobs that I barely noticed Tiffany’s hands snaking down my torso, only aware of the fact when it stopped at the stubbles of my freshly shaven privates. Without warning, the dainty digits of her hand wrapped around my dick, the resulting surge of pleasure causing me to accidentally squeeze her boobs with an unintended amount of extra force.

“Do you like mommy’s boobs?”

I nodded, each pump of her hand sending a surge of pleasure throughout my body, my toes curling in response and my brain slowly but surely filtering out everything else but the feeling of her tits on my lips and hands and the feeling of her hand on my cock. It didn’t take long for her to pick up where she left off with, inching ever closer to the edge of the peak of the climax her hands were pushing me towards. Where her boobs lacked in surface area, she made up for in the quality of the skin and the softness of the mounds of fat. They gave way so easily to my hands and to my lips, but to also hear the slight moans and sighs that would escape from Tiffany’s lips as my tongue drew circles around her areola and rolled across her nipples and my teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin and the swollen teat.

The main source of my impending orgasm, as delectable her tits were, was her hand; they were tireless, barely stopping to rest, her hand pumping the shaft about twice the width of her hand while the other gently patted my head, as if comforting a nursing baby. Occasionally, she would stop to rest by readjusting her grip at the base and cupping my balls before resuming.

“These feel so heavy. Did you save it all up just for mommy?” I nodded again, hoping she didn’t need audial confirmation. Thankfully, she didn’t, resuming shortly after with a, “That makes mommy really happy. Don’t worry, baby, mommy will make sure to take in all of Damian’s hard work and patience.”

It wasn’t much longer after that when I notified Tiffany of my impending orgasm. To my dismay, Tiffany lifted her upper torso up, scooting to edge of the bed that my legs were dangling off of.

“Make sure to give it all to mommy, ok?” I nodded, fighting back the urge to push her head that was already closing in on my dick the rest of the way. “We don’t want to waste any of it, do we?”

“No, mommy.”

“Good boy.”

The moment my cock pierced her lips and sunk into her hot, tight mouth, I just about lost it right then and there. “Agh—” an incoherent mumble-moan escaped my lips, my fingers and toes curling even more than they were already. Inch by inch, the soft membrane of her lips advanced downwards along my shaft. Inch by inch, more of my penis entered the moist cavern of her mouth, and inch by inch, her tongue lined the surface area of my dick with her saliva. “Fuck—” Shit, forgot, no swearing— “—mommy, it feels so good…”

She tiled her head up, eyes shooting a quick smile at me. She barely got halfway down before she came back up for air, her right hand taking over in slathering the rest of the length with her saliva. “Naughty boy, no swearing. I’m afraid mommy will have to punish you later.”

“I’m sorry, mommy…”

In my peripheral vision, I could see her left hand reaching downwards, buried under her legs. However, visual confirmation wasn’t even necessary to know she was fingering herself; the wet sounds of her fingers pressing and pushing against her sex were evidence enough. And while I liked to think that it was the prospect of giving my dick a blowjob that brought her to such a state, the more realistic explanation was that the drug was still affecting her; after all, her face had taken upon a red hue again. However, the difference was that this time, she didn’t have a desperation on her face; this time, it was a deepened state of arousal.

Tiffany dribbled some more saliva onto my cock, proceeding to rub the slightly viscous fluid along the shaft while her red, succulent lips planted kisses along my length. After a while, satisfied with the amount of lubricant on my dick, her right hand reaching down to cup my balls while her tongue pressed against the long-side of my cock, starting from the base and sliding upwards and ending with a smooch at the tip. There was something immensely arousing about seeing her beautiful face in such close proximity to my dick that seemed to almost make her already small face even smaller and seeing the shimmering length of my cock occasionally accidentally tapping her slim jawline that created an impatience inside me. But it was her next words that transformed that impatience to something else. “It feels so big in my mouth, I wonder how I’ll fit this in my pussy…”

The words seemed to be her inner thoughts accidentally spoken out loud, or maybe a mumble that was spoken a notch too loud. Still, no matter how many times I had been told something similar, no matter how many other women had complimented my dick, hearing the words from Tiffany’s lips felt different. I could feel my chest swelling with pride and my lips stretching out into a satisfied smile—sure, it wasn’t the biggest one out there, but in that moment, it certainly felt that way.

Tiffany repeated the action a few more times before transitioning the smooch at the tip to deepthroating.

“Agh—” I stopped myself before I let out another swear, the suddenness of the action nearly causing me to peak right then and there. In one fell swoop, nearly three-quarters of my dick disappeared into her mouth, leaving me desperately clutching onto the thread that kept me from my orgasm. “Mommy—” words became difficult to form, my mind quickly being filled with nothing but the pleasure from the tight ring of her throat pressing against the circumference of my dick in coordination with the masterful work of her tongue dancing around it.

I wanted to revel in the sensation more. I wanted to continue feeling the immeasurably intense pleasure from feeling her lips now tightly pressed against the base of my shaft, from the tightness of her throat, from the wetness and warmth of her masterful tongue, but every passing second unraveled that thread line by line. When she started moving, her head bobbing up and down and her tongue gliding along the length of my shaft, gagging sounds filling the suite and tears cascading down her tightly closed eyes joined only by the increasingly louder moist sounds of her fingers against her slick, the thread I was so desperately clutching suddenly caught fire.

“—mommy—” The words were stuck in my throat, my mind too preoccupied with the Herculean task of holding back my orgasm to be able to form words properly. “—coming!”

The release of the buildup of tension inside my nethers, the release of the burden on my mind in trying to hold back—while both were cathartic, nothing felt better than the explosive release deep in her mouth, the powerful jet of my seed hitting the back of her throat like a water hose. Her cheeks bulged even more, a sound between a gag and a cough erupting from her throat, rapidly blinking away the tears in her eyes as stream after stream poured into her mouth, but not once did she let up. Her lips remained tightly sealed around my cock, her throat flexing impressively as it took on the assault.

When it ended, Tiffany pulled away, her left hand emerged from down south so that the backs of both hands could be used to wipe away the tears that had been collecting in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, mommy…”

Her eyes blinked open. “What’s wrong?”

“I made mommy cry…”

I had to admit, Tiffany’s acting ability was top-notch. I was pretty good at acting myself, but the motherly concern that overtook her face in the face of my downtrodden, sorrowful expression made me almost believe it was sincere. “No! Aw baby,” she cooed, joining me on the bed and directing my head onto her bosom, “Those weren’t sad tears, those were happy tears! You really are spoiling your mommy so much, giving mommy so much of your tasty milk.”

“R-Really?”

She met my gaze with a happy nod. “Yes! But are you sure you gave mommy everything?”

I nodded. “I really tried my best, mommy.”

She separated herself from me, getting back on her knees at the edge of the bed. “Let’s see if Damian is telling the truth or not~” She slotted herself between my legs once again, and, with one boob in each hand, settled them on either side of my cock.

Even though I could feel the post-orgasm fatigue start to hit, seeing her surround my dick with her ample bust gave me a bit of concern. They weren’t large enough to smother the entirety of my size, but that didn’t stop the last two strands of cum to spill out onto her tits after squeezing them firmly against my cock with her hands, starting at the base and working her way out in a milking fashion.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

“I-I’m sorry, mommy!” The panic in my own voice caught me by surprise. Why was I so immersed in the roleplay? “I-I didn’t mean to! I’ll do better next time!”

Instead of reprimanding me, Tiffany looked up at me with a soft smile, scooping up the viscous bodily fluid and directing it into her mouth. Her luscious, red lips closed around her slim digits, disappearing into that dark cavern only to slide straight back out with a nearly audible pop! “It’s ok baby, as long as you keep your promise next time,” she said, her fingers running over the top of her bust again, making sure to direct every last droplet of my seed into her mouth.

I nodded eagerly. “I will!”

Tiffany smiled, licking her lips with an equal amount of eagerness and content. “Even though it wasn’t everything, it was a lot: feeling Damian’s thick, creamy load filling up my mouth and going down my throat was very nice. Thank you for the treat, baby.”

“It was only because mommy’s soft, pretty lips felt really good.”

“Oh, really?” I nodded. “Do you really like mommy’s soft, pretty lips?” I nodded again, letting her direct me back onto the bed, shifting so that I was properly aligned with it, my head all but sinking into the pillow of the luxurious suite. “Do you want more of mommy’s soft, pretty lips?”

“Can I?”

A giggle escaped from Tiffany, probably from the eagerness in my voice and the starstruck attitude I injected into it. Although, while I could definitively say I was acting, it was also true that my real feelings weren’t far from the character I was portraying. “Of course,” she replied, swinging her legs to the other side of my waist so that they were straddling it, hovering a few inches above me with hands flanking both sides of my head on the pillow. “Come here, baby.”

I didn’t know how it was possible, but her lips felt even better than how they looked or imagined. Impossibly soft, just the right amount of sweet, warm, slightly moist—even other things, like the heat from her face, the creamy texture of her palms caressing the sides of my head, her eyelashes brushing against my closed eyelids, the subtle curves of her voluptuous body pressing against mine, my mind had only the capacity to think and process Tiffany. The stillness of the room only interrupted by the sounds of our lips sensually pressing against and massaging each other, the subtle perfume she was wearing that had mixed slightly with a lingering scent of alcohol, the softness of not only her lips but her entire body firmly wrapped up and tangled in mine, the deep pants for air when she briefly disconnected our lips and the hot puffs of breath that tickled my face, the somehow simultaneously sweet yet seductive smile she shot at me before reconnecting our lips … if someone had asked me my own name in that moment, I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer.

It was after Tiffany’s second breath for air that she prodded my lips with her tongue, a request I readily complied with. While the kiss had already been getting hot and heavy, the action caused an instantaneous spike in its heatedness.

“Mmm…”

The beautiful noise emanating from Tiffany’s throat echoed in the hotel suite, tilting her head and leaning in, her velvety lips massaging mine, her tongue running against mine and brushing against my lips. We kissed—or rather, attempted to devour the other’s lips—with a wild abandon and desperate passion that might make one think our lives depended on it. In that moment, however, that was all that mattered: her curvaceous body shifting and squirming against mine, her lips pressing and moving in concert with mine, her tongue dancing expertly in perfect synchronization with mine. Everything else in the world fell away, even the bed beneath us.

When Tiffany next came up for breath, I could also see the wildness apparent in her actions in her eyes as well. However, it quickly was replaced with a laughter. “Oops, I accidentally gave you some of my lipstick.”

“I don’t mind.”

In the moment, I had become so preoccupied with Tiffany’s lips that I wasn’t aware how hard I had become until Tiffany herself pointed it out. “You’re hard again.”

“So I am.”

“Does baby want another kiss down there?”

She was the one who was asking, but I could tell she was all but ready to do the deed. After all, she had already shifted herself such that my dick was pointed straight at the entrance of her burning core. And, while normally, I might’ve teased the woman who was sharing the bed with me and made her beg, this was Tiffany. Even if the make-out session seemed to also make her forget about the roleplay we were doing for a few seconds, obeying her every command could only be described as second nature. I wanted—I needed—to appease her, to please her, even at the cost of my dignity and pride. “Can mommy do that?”

“Of course!”

“Even though mommy’s lips are up here?”

Tiffany smiled in response. The following question was one that I have been waiting for ever since I decided to play along; but, as eager as I was, I could tell Tiffany was doubly eager for it. “Do you want mommy to show you?”

“Yes!”

No matter how obvious it was that Tiffany was holding herself back, as I could surmise from the loud gasp that escaped her lips when, while her hand directed my penis to her slit, its head poked at it briefly and threatened to enter, she stayed true to her promise and removed it just as quickly. Biting back the grimace and the swear that threatened to fly out of my mouth quickly became the name of the game as her flopping wet vaginal lips pressed against my stiff cock, effectively ‘kissing’ it.

“Agh—”

“Hm? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mommy…” Edging was a tactic I was very familiar with as I often employed it with the women I fucked, and the results were often amazing. Of course, when I was doing the teasing, I felt the impatience too, but the effort of holding myself back felt worth it in the end. After all, I wasn’t only after the great sex that followed: watching the woman squirm and beg beneath me was just as much of a desired result as the sex itself.

I wondered if these were the thoughts that were going through Tiffany’s head as she continued kissing my dick with her lips down south. “Does it feel good, sweetie?”

I nodded. “Mo-mommy’s lips feel really good…”

I always figured that the person on the receiving side of the edging had it worse, but I didn’t realize the impatience was this much worse. It felt like it was taking every ounce of strength and willpower to not grab her pillowy ass and shove all six-and-a-half inches inside her all at once. However, I could see the impatience on Tiffany’s face too: the same deep shade of red from back when she was trying to force herself onto me in the club overtook her face, her gasps and sighs gradually growing in volume as more and more of my cock became covered with her bodily fluids.

“Oh sweetheart, you feel so big and thick…”

The softness of her thighs that trapped my member, the rolling of her hips that caused her folds, sticky with her own precum, to slide along the length of my shaft, it was all doing wonders for the pleasure and lust that was quickly building with every passing moment. Even the hot puffs of air hitting my face and the pillowy sensation of her boobs pressed against my chest was aiding the process of deepening my arousal; but however much it made me want to slam her against the bed and fuck her into next Tuesday, I resisted. I could see her getting affected too, and it wasn’t before long when her patience, built up from when she first straddled my lap at the bar, finally broke.

“Fuck, mommy needs you so bad Damian…”

“What’s wrong, mommy?”

“Does my Damian want a baby brother or sister?”

Fuck.

Just the implication of the words made my dick twitch. Another rush of anticipation washed over my body, screaming at my muscles to move on the impulse.

Is she implying what I think she’s implying?

“Really?” I could only hope that the spike in my lust and impatience wasn’t present in my voice. “Yeah!”

“Then make sure to cum lots and lots inside mommy, ok?”

She barely gave me any time to respond before grabbing my cock and directing it straight into her pussy.

If it wasn’t abundantly clear how riled up Tiffany was before, the evidence was now screaming in my face—quite literally, in the form of Tiffany’s loud reaction to succumbing to an orgasm from the simple act of inserting barely half of my length inside her.

“Damian’s cock is stretching mommy’s tiny little pussy out so much! Ah, it feels so good, it feels so good!”

The orgasm seemed to only become more intense as it dragged on, the clenching of her vaginal walls against my shaft making it harder to advance. It seemed to suffice for her intents and purposes, riding out her climax with the upper four inches of my cock buried firmly inside her heat, letting loose a string of mewls and loud moans as she did so.

And, watching the spectacle, I couldn’t help but be entirely enraptured. Out of all the women I’ve seen ride out their orgasms on my cock, Tiffany had to be the most arousing, most beautiful woman of them all: even as she screamed, her lips appeared just as full and luscious; even as her face gave in to her lust, it still maintained its mystical beauty; even as her tits jiggled slight in response to her manic bouncing, they looked no less voluminous and perky; even as her legs tensed, the slight muscle definition to her thighs added to their appeal; even as her juices were splattering out of her pussy, the visual of her flopping folds deepened my arousal even more.

“Mom-mommy? Are you ok?” I wasn’t sure how I managed to stay in my ‘role’. Or, maybe, I did know but didn’t want to admit it.

“Sorry, honey,” she replied, her answer coming out as a gasp, her orgasm having finally subsided, “Mommy is fine. What do you think about mommy’s pussy?”

“It—It feels really good, mommy!”

She simply smiled in response, taking a deep breath before pushing the rest of my length inside her. Another slew of moans and sighs exploded from her lips, shuddering in tandem with me as my cock fully hilted her. When she was finally able to calm herself down, she opened her eyes, leaning forward and planting her hands on my chest. “Now’s time for that punishment.”

“Whaat?”

“Be a good boy and accept their punishment, ok? Mommy will give you a reward after.”

“Oh … ok, mommy,” I replied with a reluctantly obedient voice, a pouty voice I probably hadn’t used since I was twelve.

With that, Tiffany shifted her position such that her clit brushed against my groin. The contact alone caused her to gasp, which quickly turned into a moan as she pressed her sensitive nub onto the stubbles of my recently-shaven pubic hair.

“What a good boy, keeping yourself so clean…”

As if the suffocating tightness of her pussy wasn’t enough, as if its blistering heat and the wetness from having been brought to orgasm twice already wasn’t enough, as if the grinding motion she began doing wasn’t enough, the visual of her stimulating her clit by rubbing it against my crotch more than made up for the lack of any stimulation on me. The slight jiggling of her tits as she rocked back and forth, the way her Cupid’s bow lips parted as gasps and moans slipped out of her mouth, the swaying of her silky, jet-black hair in tandem with her movement, the pure and utter ecstasy that deepened with every passing moment etched onto her face … it was all too mesmerizing to notice the passage of time until her hands brushed up against mine, which were lazily laying on her legs.

“Do you mind helping mommy a little?”

The question snapped me back to reality. “Um, of—of course, mommy!”

She slowed down slightly, directing my hands to her bosom. “Damian said he really likes mommy’s boobs, right?” I nodded. “Then, here you go,” she said, placing each hand on one of her boobs, “you can play with them however you want.”

The urge to do so was an urge I was holding back the entire time, having only gotten worse after seeing them swaying so much mere inches from my face, but finally being granted permission to do so unlocked a fervor Tiffany was definitely not expecting.

“Thank you, mommy!”

I pressed my index finger and thumb into her areola, the rest of my fingers resting on the pillowy surface of her tits while they rubbed gentle circles around the sensitive skin. The squirming and moaning from Tiffany increased drastically, shifting one hand to the center of my chest while the other dove down south into the tight connection of her labia against the perimeter of my cock. It was the wet sounds of flesh rubbing against flesh that let me know that she was rubbing the widely spread-open pussy lips that were engulfing the base of my cock, something that turned me on even further.

“Damian…”

Somehow having withstood the temptation of pinching those delectable nipples that sat at the peak of her tits, the tauntingly squeezable nubs swaying to and fro inches from my face, instead electing to build up the suspense by continuing to rub and massage the sensitive skin around it.

“Oh, sweetie, your fingers feel so good…”

“Am I doing well?”

She nodded fervently. “Yes, you’re making mommy very happy, but…”

Tiffany interrupted herself with another moan, a sound that had been gradually turning more and more impatient. “Hm?” I replied innocently, as if I didn’t know the exact cause of her suffering.

“…but you’re also being a very naughty boy right now.”

I completely stopped. “What? What am I doing wrong, mommy?”

Tiffany opened her eyes, managing to shoot me a gentle smile. “Do you see mommy’s big, swollen nipples?”

I redirected my eyes to them, nodding. “Is—Is mommy going to punish me again for being naughty?”

“No, but only if you starting paying more attention to those too.”

“Oh. Ok!” Shortly following those words, both sets of index fingers and thumbs surrounded the engorged, light-brown buttons and squeezed them.

“Oh!” The electrified moan that jetted out her lips mirrored the shock that surged through her system in response, her arms and legs suddenly tensing and her eyes fluttering shut. “More!”

Just watching her succumb to pleasure was reward enough, but the feeling of the velvety, swollen nipple giving way to my fingers and just how enjoyable it was to squeeze them added onto that pleasure tenfold. That seemed the catalyst for everything intensifying: the vigor with which she grinded her clit against the stubbles of pubic hair on my groin, the volume and frequency of her moans, even the wet sounds of her fingers playing with her labia and rubbing the base of my cock that her labia was encircled around. Although the lack of stimulation for me might’ve ordinarily softened my penis, the sheer spectacle of the lascivious lady relishing in the ecstasy that was so clearly written on her face and in her body that I found myself getting more aroused with each passing moment.

Making sure to switch between kneading motions, rolling the erect nub in my fingers, and pinching them, it didn’t feel much longer until Tiffany finally announced her climax. “Oh, oh god, sweetheart, mommy’s cumming!”

This time, her orgasm came out in more gradual waves, like a boiling kettle with water leaking out the top. Tiffany’s mouth didn’t stop the entire time, letting out a noise between a moan, a scream, and a pant, riding out her climax vigorously, her entire body shaking as more and more of her sticky fluids washed over my cock, bits and slivers leaking out after coming down from that peak.

“Oh … oh fuck…”

The minute or so I spent watching her reveling in lust and ecstasy only made me harder, but was thankfully experienced enough to not let it control me, letting her take a few breathers with her head hanging over my chest and her hands planted on my abdomen.

In the minute or so it took for the Korean-American celebrity to recover, I simply watched her regain her bearings, shuddering every so often as a bit more of her juices trickled out of our hot connection. From watching her cum for the second time that night, I was certainly rearing to go again, and it definitely didn’t help that the fleshy, tight walls of Tiffany’s vagina was still squeezing my cock like it was trying to milk it. However much I managed to keep my lust in check, I could feel it slipping by the second.

“Wow … you have a really nice body…”

It was an out-of-character statement, or so the tone of her voice suggested, but I wasn’t about to let it slip away without my reward first. “Mommy, was I a good boy?”

Tiffany seamlessly slipped back into the role, smiling and nodding. “Yes, you were. Mommy promised you a reward if you were a good boy, didn’t she?” I nodded, eyes shining with anticipation. “Do you like mommy’s pussy?”

I nodded again. “It’s so tight, but it feels good.”

Tiffany giggled at that. “Anyone would feel this tight with how big my baby boy is.”

“Oh.”

“Would Damian like to feel better?” I let the excitement I bleed onto my lips. “Would Damian like to cum inside mommy’s pussy?”

This time, my excitement translated into a twitch of my dick. Oh fuck. Was she really letting me do that?

After what has basically amounted to soaking inside Tiffany for the better part of five, maybe ten, minutes, I was raring to have a go at fucking this pussy that has been strangling my cock this entire time. But the prospect of being able to cum inside? That was beyond any fantasy I usually allowed myself to have about my prospective woman for the night. “Yes!”

Tiffany smiled again. “Damian has been such a good boy, I think he deserves his reward.” She wasted no time in pleasantries, lifting her ass off my groin. A sharp breath blew past my teeth, the feeling of her moist vaginal walls gliding along my shaft sending a rolling wave of pleasure throughout my body. And, as quickly as she lifted herself off my dick, she slammed back down, the crisp sound of her plump ass slapping against my damp groin blending in with the groans and moans from both Tiffany and me.

“Ah—” she repeated the action, leaning forward a little more to give herself a better angle to ride me, “—you feel so big inside mommy, honey…”

It didn’t take me long to find her rhythm and match her riding motion with upward thrusts; my hands found themselves planted at her hips, my eyes wandering from watching the wanton expression on her face to watching the slight jiggle of her beautiful tits to watching the up-and-down motion of her labia along my dick, unsure which sight was a more sexually appealing spectacle.

“Shit … you feel so good…”

“Damian, language…” Tiffany’s weak protest fell on deaf ears, all our efforts now focused on the other’s reproductive organ.

Having become lost in my pleasure and watching Tiffany revel in hers, or maybe it was Tiffany fucking with my mind, I hadn’t even realized we had passed the limit of Tiffany’s physical capabilities until I began to notice the increased depth and frequency of her chest’s heaving.

But I wasn’t ready to slow down. Not by a long shot. Not when things were finally starting to heat up.

“Jellybean, I—what are you doing?” Tiffany’s arms buckled as my hands, now placed on her shoulders, pulled her body towards me. “Damian, you’re—” I didn’t listen, Tiffany cutting herself off with a squeal as I flipped our positions on the bed in an instant. From the sparkle in her eye, I could tell the display of physical dominance turned her on. “Damian, you’re being very naughty—”

Even her protest was weak, which only turned weaker as I began pounding her into the bed.

“But isn’t this easier, mommy?”

“Damian, listen to mommy…” the last vestiges of her attempt to maintain her role as the dominant rapidly dwindled to nothing, her own voice even betraying her as a slew of moans erupted from her throat. “Oh, oh god…” Seeing Tiffany start breaking down, especially with how staunchly her stance was in preserving the roleplay, caused a swell of pride and power to balloon inside my chest. The strict ‘mother’, now reduced to a moaning, mewling mess, at the whims of my cock violating every inch of her wanton pussy … in my many years of living and countless women I’ve bedded, few, if any, sights compared in sexiness and how great it felt to know that I was the cause of it.

“See? Isn’t this better?”

Tiffany shook her head slightly, her legs wrapping around my waist. “B-But I was supposed to b-be rewarding you.”

“You are.”

The suffocating tightness was only counteracted by the sheer wetness of her pussy, well-lubricated from her previous three orgasms. Added to that was an overwhelming heat that only added to the heat of our synchronized motion created a symphony of moans, damp skin slapping against each other, the squeaking of the luxurious hotel suite’s bed, and the panting that came between the moans.

“Damian, oh—oh, fuck!”

Tiffany’s moan turned into a high-pitched squeal as my fingers pushed aside her folds to lightly pinch the hardened nub north of our connection.

“You like that?”

“Yes, I—fuck!”

I pinched it again, with a bit more pressure, causing Tiffany’s back to arch well off the bed.

“Hmm, you’re so sexy, Tiff.”

I leaned forward, leaving my fingers at her clit while my lips found hers. While our previous kisses could be described as messy, it didn’t hold a candle to this kiss; it was as wild and sloppy as it was wet and loud, the constant smacking of our lips quickly joining the cacophony of sounds that were echoing throughout the suite.

“Mmm…”

A deep, guttural moan reverberated out from Tiffany’s throat, her lips unrelenting in their counter-assault on mine. The wet, velvety texture of her lips glided against mine, made more difficult by how the force of my thrusts were causing her body to shake, but they never separated for more than a second.

“So desperate…”

I could feel one hand tightly gripping the back of my head and the other, my neck, the tensing of her legs and the continual strings of muffled moans vibrating from her throat reaffirming the two words I managed to gasp out. However, as accusatory as the words were, the same could be said about me: but with how sweet her lips were, and how soft they felt against mine, and how expertly they caressed and rubbed against and massaged my lips, how could I not become so desperate? I was already kissing her, but I still needed more.

“So good…”

My tongue brushed against the entrance to her lips and instantly, was allowed access. Tilting my head for a better angle, I deepened the kiss, feeling the powerful pink muscle in her mouth coming out to meet my own. My nose was nearly poking her cheek, the hot puffs of air on mine telling me hers was in a similar position, the subtle aroma of her subtle perfume wafting into my nose.

Fuck, I’m going to go crazy.

I was thankful I was experienced enough to let my body go on auto-pilot, because I was beginning to feel dizzy with the overload of stimulation from all sources: from her silky legs wrapped around my wait, from her ample boobs pressed against my chest, from her scent being injected through my nostrils, from her vaginal walls gliding along my cock, from her luscious lips pressed firmly against mine, from her tongue dancing expertly around my tongue, from the squirming of her body as my finger continued to tease her clitoris—

I need a short break.

I pulled away, my hips slowing down considerably as I did so. “Sorry Tiff, I need—”

All my concerns for taking a break instantly vanished upon looking at her face: eyelids half-lidded, tongue now lolling out of her parted lips, chest heaving, the lower half of her body spasming at the orgasm that was currently wracking her body.

“I’m—fuck, I can’t—”

Damn, I knew I was good, but I’m not that good. That drug really is something else, huh?

It wasn’t intentional, but taking advantage of Tiffany in the state she was in felt wrong. Maybe Tiffany herself didn’t feel that way—maybe she was in as much ecstasy as she looked to be in—but having brought her to such a state not by my own efforts, but with the help of a drug, made it not as satisfying. I doubted she would’ve have gotten like this if she was with the man who fed her the drug, but knowing it wasn’t all me made me wonder how much of it was me.

“Ah, ah, fuck…”

The Korean-American celebrity gasped, her words breathy and her half-conscious state only marginally improving.

“Are you ok?”

Even after waiting a minute for her to calm down was evidently insufficient, as she continued to shake, albeit less violently. “Sorry, fuck…”

“Language, mommy.”

Tiffany grinned, the continual orgasms that had wracked her body and brought her to the half-conscious state she was in coming to a halt. “Sorry, baby.”

“Looks like you need a break too, with how many times you just came in a row.”

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed, biting the corner of her lower lip in reaction to the flash of lust that passed my eyes. “Not like you minded, you just continued fucking me like I was your personal fleshlight.”

“You’re saying that like you weren’t moaning up a storm, begging for more.”

“Oh, I never said I didn’t mind.”

Those words, the seductive voice she spoke with, and the sexy smirk that followed, nearly blew away all of the restraint I was employing.

Fuck, she’s dangerous.

“What made you stop?”

“Other than seeing your barely-conscious state?”

“Don’t kid yourself, I know it wasn’t me that caused you to stop. Otherwise, you would’ve stopped a long time ago.”

I almost laughed at that. “You almost sound proud of cumming so much.”

Tiffany shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I was getting overwhelmed.”

Caught off guard, Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Hm?”

“The answer to your question,” I responded, “I stopped because I was getting a little overwhelmed. Although it looked like you were a little more overwhelmed than me. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“No reason to. It felt amazing.” I found myself grinning and opened my mouth to reply, but was cut short by Tiffany, “But I couldn’t help but notice: you didn’t cum yet, did you?”

“Did you really want me to fill up your sore, tiny little pussy badly?”

“Don’t you?” I felt my dick twitch in response to that again. Fuck, why is so so— “I already told you, didn’t I? Cum lots and lots inside mommy~” Tiffany’s response, the cuter, higher-pitched tone she used while doing the roleplay, and the suggestive smirk on her face, acted as the final straw that broke my restraint.

My hands went under her thighs and lifted her legs up, a surprised squeal coming out of Tiffany’s lips as I pushed them upwards into a ‘V’ shape. “You asked for this, so don’t blame me for not stopping until I empty my load inside you, mommy.”

“Yeah, fuck!”

The words came out half as a moan and half as a scream, her back arching as I drilled into her from a downward angle. My knees planted firmly into the mattress and my hands tightly gripping her legs as her body shook with the force of my thrusts, I watched as her face quickly gave way to lust. It didn’t take long for her hands to creep onto her chest to start massaging her own breasts, rubbing and kneading the supple skin like playdoh; her lips her parted, eyes closed, head thrown back, every part of her being proudly displaying the ecstasy she was feeling from the strong, rapid thrusts of my cock in and out of her womanhood.

“How badly do you want this?”

“So badly, mommy needs it, mommy needs your cum—ah!” the last bit of her sentence was cut short by a louder moan when the force of my thrusts caused my groin to press up against her clit. I took advantage of the contact, a grin appearing on my face from the mewling mess Tiffany became upon rubbing the sensitive nub.

The telltale signs of her pussy tightening around my cock and the increasing frequency of her moans told me all I needed to know about her next impending orgasm. “You gonna cum again?”

“Yes, fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, my clit, you’re rubbing it so much, and your cock, oh god—oh, god!”

The sexy sight before me only made me want to work harder, of her body violently conceding to the nth orgasm of the night.

“What a naughty mommy, cumming so many times when she was supposed to be giving a reward to her baby boy.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she panted, barely able to formulate complete sentences from the heavy panting that was disabling her articulatory functions.

I didn’t give her any time to recover from her orgasm, continuing at the same speed and ferocity as before. The squeaking of the poor bed returned, the suite soon filled yet again with the combined sounds of our moans, my balls slapping her wet labia, and that noise, amplified more this time by the additional strength the position allowed me to use.

“God, fuck, it’s too much—!”

It wasn’t so much of me letting her ride out her orgasm as much as it was me chasing after my own. The buildup after all this time, the anticipation from the first time I laid my eyes on her and reigniting when she came onto me strongly in the club, was all coming to a head in every thrust that smashed the tip of my cock against her cervix.

I had a pretty good imagination, but actually fucking her was a million times better than any fantasy I had. Her perfect, beautiful visage ruined by the tongue nearly lolling out of her mouth, her stunning eyes rolled to the back of her head, her flawless, pale skin dotted with beads of sweat, her silky, jet-black hair strewn all over the blanket, all in a lecherous display before me. That wasn’t even to mention her beautiful voice screaming out in ecstasy, her soaking wet yet simultaneously suffocatingly tight pussy massaging the length of my cock as it glided along its walls, every thrust causing a spurt of her juices to land on my growingly damp groin, even the silky-smooth feeling of her tensing thighs in my left hand that defeated the vision I had looking at her.

“You love my cock so much, don’t you?”

With how much of my penis I was withdrawing from her entrance, it was only a matter of time before it slipped out; when it did, I held her thighs with my elbow while directing the drenched rod back inside her, another moan erupting from Tiffany’s lips.

“Yes~” the force used to fully sheath myself back inside her caused the fat on her ass to reverberate, her body jerking upwards in reaction to my vigor, “I love it so much, fuck!”

I took advantage of my hand’s position to reach between her folds and pinched her clit, causing another string of high-pitched moans to echo throughout the bedroom. “Does mommy really want another baby?”

She nodded frantically, yet another impending orgasm causing her to twist and squirm around. “Yes! Please!”

I desperately held my climax back, wanting to indulge in this moment for as long as I could withstand it, but everything was working against me: the sight of Tiffany reveling in her pleasure, the feeling of her body intertwined within mine, the beautiful melodies of moans and screams that continually flew out her lips, even the smell of sex that was gradually taking over my nostrils. “You’re a really slutty mommy, wanting to feel her baby’s cum fill up every crevice of her naughty little pussy, aren’t you?”

“Ye—Yes—Yes!” Tiffany, barely able to formulate words at this point, could only scream out the one word in agreement, the climax that took over her body shortly after turning her into a moaning, screaming mess.

I barely had time to let out a warning yell before my own climax took over, giving her clit one last firm pinch before feeling the tension inside my nethers untangle all at once.

“Fuck, it’s so hot!”

“Here’s your baby you wanted to much, mommy.” My right hand quickly went back to her thighs, holding onto them with both hands for leverage, using her orgasming pussy to ride out my own orgasm, each thrust pushing in the torrent of the sticky substance deep inside the singer’s womb.

“More, please, more!”

The combined climaxes and the resulting creampie brewing inside her evidently extended her stay at her peak, her ability to stay still rendered completely inert by her pleasure sending tidal wave after tidal wave of ecstasy throughout her entire body.

“Ugh, shit,” I grunted, feeling the last few strands of my seed being milked out by the convulsing, fleshy walls of her baby canal.

The following minute was filled with nothing but the sounds of our deep pants, me taking a minute to rest before letting her legs fall back onto the bed.

“Damian…”

“Hm?”

I looked up to see Tiffany beckoning for me. I obediently leaned forward, letting her hands wrap around my head and pull me down into another kiss. A pleased moan vibrated inside my throat, the feeling of her lips rubbing and massaging mine and her ample bosom smooshed against my chest barely able to fight against the refractory period softening my penis still inside her. She let me go after a few seconds, a lazy smirk on her lips. “Thanks, that was amazing. But, you’re still hard?”

I definitely had the stamina to go another round or two, but just a glance at the drooping eyes of Tiffany told me all I needed about what kind of a person she was: in her heart of hearts, a people pleaser.

I shook my head, only to be met with an indignant, “Yes you are, I can still feel how hard you are inside me.”

“Tiff, I think it’s best that we stop.”

“Huh?”

For all the ways the existence of Tiffany fucked with my mind, I was glad this part of me remained unchanged. “Look, you’re struggling to stay awake.”

“No, I—”

“It’s ok, we can continue next morning if you’re up for it.”

She adamantly shook her head, her lips forming into a pout. “I’m fine, you can keep fucking me if I fall asleep.”

Being too exhausted to resist, I had little issue removing her legs that had wrapped around my waist and pulled out of her. A shudder ran up her spine that escaped out her mouth as I did so, a stream of fluids leaking out of her red and battered hole. “Let’s clean you up first, don’t want any UTIs or anything.”

Tiffany continued to pout but obliged, letting me carry her to the bathroom to wash her privates. “Do you have any Plan B pills with you?”

She nodded. “In my purse.”

After feeding the pills to her, I finished drying her up before plopping her back in bed, under the covers. However, before I could leave, I was stopped by her hand, shooting out from under the blanket and grabbing my wrist.

“Don’t go.”

I turned back around in shock, as it seemed like Tiffany’s eyes had already closed when I pulled the blanket over her.

“I’m only going to the bathroom.”

Ordinarily, I would’ve had no problem staying the night with her, but not when it came to celebrities. In those cases, I usually opted to slip out the same night, not wanting to cause a scene or any problematic news articles. Doing so has only backfired once, and even then, the model came to understand my intentions after explaining them to her.

“You already tried that on me, remember?”

Damn it. Why didn’t I turn around when I said that?

“It’s better if I leave now, isn’t it?”

She frowned pointedly at that. “Why?”

My brows furrowed, pursing my lips in confusion. “Well, because you’re a celebrity, and you don’t want to be caught leaving a hotel with a man?”

“We can just leave at different times.” There was no denying that, but still, I didn’t want to take any risks when I didn’t have to. “Plus, you promised me, didn’t you?”

“Hm?”

“That we’d continue tomorrow morning.”

I sighed, the twitching of my mostly-flaccid cock catching the attention of Tiffany, who giggled at the sight. “Are you going to insist that I stay?”

She nodded. “Please?”

As much of an admitted playboy I was, the pleading eyes of a beautiful woman was something I had little resistance to; and when that beautiful woman was Tiffany, the queen of being able to bend me to her will, that resistance all but crumbled.

“I really can’t win against you, can I?”

The smile on my face transferred to Tiffany, who opened the blanket covers, scooting over and patting the space she made for me. “Come to mommy~”

I obliged, slipping under the covers with her and letting her wrap her arms around mine, pulling them against her naked breasts, and resting her head against my bare shoulder. While I had no problems with her snuggling up to me like that, I couldn’t help but become a little concerned. “Is that comfortable?”

With her eyes still closed, she replied, “If I don’t do this, you’ll run away after I fall asleep, won’t you?”

I found myself smiling. It was an option I was holding onto in the back of my mind, but Tiffany seemed to be too thorough to let me do that. “Busted.”

She smiled back. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

By the time I repeated the words to her, she had already fallen asleep, and not too long after, so did I.

[azzibuckets]

national what day [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very random and unedited little blurb i wrote for national girlfriend day yesterday

word count: 1k

masterlist

“You think I’d forget?”

Emerging from the bathroom, Azzi freezes midway through brushing her teeth, not expecting to see a huge inflatable Olaf, probably as tall as her, sitting on her bed. Even wilder is Paige standing next to the Olaf with a proud grin on her face, one hand holding a gift bag from Tiffany’s and the other holding a huge sign that said “Olaf you!”

Azzi licks toothpaste from the corner of her lip. “What’s this for?”

Paige’s face drops, the corner of her lips turning downwards as a pout starts to form. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Azzi gurgles at the sink before spitting out her toothpaste. Wiping her damp hands dry on her sleep shirt, she returns and eyes Paige curiously. “This is super cute, babe, I love it. But am I missing something?”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow even further, her mouth agape. “You don’t know what today is?”

Azzi looks innocently around, as if an idea would conjure up in the air in front of her. “The first of the month?”

Paige’s mouth pulls into a even tighter line. She slumps on the bed beside the Olaf, throwing her arms around its stomach and burrowing her head into the plastic nylon material. “Maybe you can be my new girlfriend,” she grunts, her voice muffled.

Azzi nudged Paige in the back. “What’s going on?”

The blonde peeks up, one eye glaring at her girlfriend and the other covered by blonde hair falling across her face. “Did you honestly forget it’s national girlfriend day?”

Azzi, having busied herself with her bedtime routine, starts to rub lotion onto her face. “Is that a thing?”

“Of course it’s a thing!” Paige whines. “How do you not know it exists?”

“I’m not chronically online,” Azzi says slyly, smirking at Paige in the mirror.

“Babe.” Paige is behind Azzi now, hands splaying across her waist and pulling her in. She brushes a kiss across the nape of Azzi’s neck, fingers smoothing out the curly baby hairs at her hairline. “Did you really not know?”

The dejected look on Paige’s face forces Azzi out of her act. Bursting out laughing, Azzi turns in Paige’s room and presses a light kiss to her nose. “You’re so gullible it’s cute.”

“I’m cute?” Paige is smirking now, completely ignoring the first half of the sentence as her eyes glaze over with wonder.

Azzi pushes Paige in the forehead with her palm. “And you’re so in love with me you’re deaf.” Shaken out of her trance, Paige follows Azzi to the bathroom.

“That’s fucked up,” Paige groans. “Why’d you do me like that earlier?”

“You were gone the entire day and you said you’d be home by 7. It’s 10 and you just got back.” Azzi has a half smile on her face, but Paige sees right through it. She hates the thought of her ever disappointing her girlfriend, so she swallows down her pride.

“I’m really sorry, I was at Tiffany’s getting your necklace I ordered ahead but then it took a while and-,”

“Paige, it’s okay,” Azzi interrupts, reaching out to brush off a piece of lint from Paige’s shoulder. Her hand rests there and she squeezes. “I’m not mad at you, I swear. I just wish you would’ve texted me so I could’ve prepared better.”

“Prepared?”

“I made us dinner.” Azzi glances shyly away. “Spaghetti, steak, all your favorites. It’s in the fridge now, but it’s fine. We can eat it later, like meal prep.”

“Azzi.” There’s hurt and regret and guilt packed in only one word, and Paige’s eyes are wet when she clamps her hand over Azzi’s. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I should’ve texted. I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise.” Paige cups Azzi’s face in hers, beginning to pepper her face with kisses. “Tomorrow, just me and you. I’m gonna take you out, okay? It’s gonna be the best day of your life.”

Laughing, Azzi shakes her head. “Don’t feel bad, Paige, I told you it’s fine.”

“You’re too fucking good of a person,” Paige says, all serious now. “I messed up and should take responsibility for it.”

“I don’t know, your huge ass Olaf makes it easy to forgive you.” Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, eyes softening once she realizes that a necklace of polaroids is draped across its neck. “Is that us?”

Paige follows Azzi’s glance. “It is. But come on.” Dragging Azzi’s hand along, she leads them downstairs to the kitchen before they’re both staring at the fridge.

“Paige, it’s 10 PM.”

“You made us dinner. We gotta eat it.” Paige opens the fridge and immediately starts stacking the counter with the Tupperware containers marked with “P&A”.

“You missed the vegetables,” Azzi says pointedly when Paige starts to close the fridge.

“No, I didn’t,” Paige says breezily before shutting the door.

“Where are we going?” Azzi questions as Paige picks up the containers before hurrying out the front door.

“Somewhere more private.” Juggling all the containers on one hand, Paige opens the door to the back seat with the other and ushers Azzi inside.

“Sitting in a cold and dark car eating cold leftovers. Best national girlfriend’s day ever,” Azzi says sarcastically as she scoots in.

“Shut up.” Paige flicks Azzi in the cheek. “I wanna cuddle while we eat.”

“We couldn’t do this in our room?”

“You know your mom hates when we eat in the bedroom.”

Azzi shrugs, adjusting their bodies so that she’s lying in Paige’s arms as they sprawl across the three seats.

“This is what I used to dream of.”

“Huh?” Azzi looks up as she pops a piece of cold steak into her mouth.

“Calling you my girlfriend. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to be with you and I have to slap myself. I used to think about scenarios like this every fucking night before I went to sleep.”

Azzi smiles into Paige’s bicep. “You’re such a romantic.”

“You know that if I had the choice I would’ve spent the entire day with you?”

“I know. You’re pretty obsessed with me.” And there are a lot of words that Azzi wants to say. That she thinks that her heart beats for Paige, and she doesn’t know how she managed to live before this crazy beanpole white girl ran into her life and upheaved everything she knew. But she stores it inside the small part of her brain that’s been working on her vows since she was 14, and instead she says, “But it’s not like you forgot an anniversary. You and I both know today doesn’t really matter.”

“But you matter.” Paige’s grip tightens on Azzi.

Azzi nuzzles her head into Paige’s chest, sighing contentedly as her eyes flutter sleepily. “You make me feel like I matter.”

[writers-hes]

Growing Pains | c. berzatto x reader

A broken promise between friends hangs heavy in the Chicago air. He was haunted by a loss, seeking refuge in the city he never considered home. She was a wisp of stardust who finds herself back in the city she always considered home. A rent-dispute sets the stage for them to meet again, only to realize that dreams, both realized and abandoned, are so much brighter when you’re younger. (trauma, mentions of alcoholism, sexual harrassment, angst, some bad words…) A/N: This is entirely different from my other fics and I hope that you enjoy it. I really do.

MASTER LISTS TAGLIST “I want to become an artist,” That was what nine year old Carmen Bezatto told you when you asked him what his dream was. He was shy and kept to himself. You were different. You were magnetic and the boys in class all had a crush on you. The teachers loved you and the girls from the higher years doted on you. 

“I want to become an actress or a singer,” you confessed, sitting beside him. The crayon that he was holding was blue and he set it down. “What are you drawing?”

“A car,” You peered over his shoulder. 

“You’re really good Carmen,” 

“Carmy,” he whispered, his heart beating fast. You look at him in confusion. “Call me Carmy,”

“Why do you want to become an artist?” you asked him. You were looking at the drawing of spaghetti and meatballs on his sketchpad. He drew it with a crayon. 

“It’s what I’m good at,” he shrugged. “I’m not good with words but I’m good at this. Why do you wanna become an actress?”

“I want people to love me! I want to be so rich and buy my mom everything she needs. I want to star in movies. I can also cry on command. See?” you asked. He watches you clench your eyebrows and wobble your lip. Soon the first tear falls. He’s never been so mesmerized by another person before. 

“Carmy,”

“Hm?”

“Let’s promise to achieve our dreams and revisit this place after we’ve done it,” you said, sticking out your pinky for him. He beams at you, the rare smiles he gives and intertwines his pinky with you. 

“I promise,”

You two made unlikely friends. Carmy was still on the sidelines when he reached high school while you were still in the spotlight. You joined theater. Carmy was sure there were some who still harbored feelings for you. Who wouldn’t? You were the same magnetic, charismatic, charming girl he knew from childhood. Everyone was so sure that you’re on your path to become an actress. 

“Carmy!” He turns around and sees you rushing towards him with a smile on your face. You loop your arm with his and walk to the next class together. “You didn’t wait for me,”

“Sorry,” he chuckles lightly, seeing you pout. “You were just talking to some guys and I didn’t want to just stand there,” 

“Sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” he looks at you.

“I saw you talking to Claire,” you teased. He told you once that he had a crush on her. “What did you guys talk about?”

“She just asked me about homework,” he says looking away.

“You’re so cute, Carmy!” you gushed, pinching his cheek with your free hand. He blushes harder. He should be used to such remarks by now.

“Let’s just go to class,”

-

“Wait, hold that pose,” he says. School ended and he found you sleeping at the library. He decided to sit in front of you until you woke up. The sun was already setting and it seeped through the windows of the library.

“Huh?” you asked. You were craning your neck to the side to stretch it. 

“Hold that pose. I’m sketching,” You look at the paper and the pencil in front of him. “I’m trying to draw different angles,”

“Alright,” you replied. You stayed like that until Carmy says that it’s alright. You watched him draw more details and add more shadows. “You’re really good…but why do I have a mustache?”

“It’s called hatching,” he chuckled. “But it looks like a mustache,” He erases some shades and shows you his sketch. “I know it’s not good…”

“It’s good!” You snatch the piece of paper from him and hold up the portrait beside you. “See? Looks exactly like me,”

“Your nose is crooked,”

“Carmy!” you pouted. He laughed, his curls falling down his face as he hid his smile from you. Your heart beats fast and you look at him. It was your first time actually taking him in. He is beautiful.

“Let’s go home?” he asked after laughing. He tries to take the drawing from you but you snatch it away. 

“This is mine as a punishment for saying that my nose is crooked!” you told him, opening the folder that you were sleeping on. He tries to chase it but you keep it. 

“I’ll give you a better one!”

“I like this,” you told him earnestly, keeping the folder in your backpack. “When you’re a really famous artist, I’ll sell it for a really expensive price! From Carmen Anthony Berzatto’s earlier work. Come on, Carmy! Let’s get out of here. You promised to walk me home today,” he heard you say. He stands up from his seat and waits for you. He takes your lunchbox for you as usual. Dede likes to cook your and Carmy’s lunches. She makes him bring your lunchbox home. Carmy thinks that she’s just making sure that you’ll still be his friend. 

The walk home was usual, your and Carmy’s lunches on either hands, you trying to catch up on his steps no matter how much he tried to slow down. Carmy walks you home and you thank him, hugging him to the side before leaving. You watch him walk away from your window. 

-

Looking back, you and Carmy had always been close. However, sometime in your senior year, you watched him pull himself away from you. It was quick. It felt like someone plucked a rib from you. It was painful. One day, he just decided not to talk to you as much. He doesn’t wait for you during theater practice anymore and he hasn’t been walking home with you. You’d always be walking home, alone. Carmy wasn’t there anymore. 

“Carmy, can we talk?” you asked, running after him when he ignored you again. You look up at him with sad eyes and he just looks away.

“For what?”

“Oh, well—I just…” you stammered. You looked at his sweater instead of his face. “I just wanted to know if everything’s fine?”

“It is,” He shrugs you off like you didn’t matter. 

“Oh,” 

You nod to yourself, looking away. What else was there to say? 

“Um, do you…do you want to walk together?” you asked. 

“No,”

Your heart drops and you swallow thickly. He hears you whisper something that he doesn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he felt like absolute shit. His mom has been drinking more, Mikey was pushing him away, Richie was giving him a hard time, and Sugar locked herself in her room most of the time. He hasn’t been thinking straight and his home environment was just so draining that he forgot to reserve some of his energy for you. You leave without waiting for him to reply. He watches you run away from him. He should’ve ran after you that afternoon.

The day after that, Carmy thought of seeking you out. He wanted to apologize for how he behaved the past couple of days. He wanted to tell you everything but you were nowhere to be seen. 

You returned to school a week after that due to a family emergency. He lost his courage by then. The teachers were kind enough to give you extra credit and you aced them all because soon, you were getting acceptance letters from colleges. When you were younger, you and Carmy both agreed to go to the same university that offered the courses you wanted to major in. You both agreed to go to the same college and rent an apartment together. You were just about to knock on the Berzattos’ door to ask Carmy if your plan would still push through. What Dede said broke your heart, though. 

“He didn’t tell you? He left for Copenhagen last night. He got a scholarship from Noma!” she excitedly told you. She blows smoke away from you and your face falters. You shook it off though and decided to congratulate Dede. You emailed Carmy that night but he never replied.  You remembered during graduation when Carmy’s family asked you to have a picture with him. You both stood awkwardly as Dede, oblivious as ever, clicked on the shutter multiple times. Sugar felt uncomfortable and looked for your mom but she was nowhere to be seen. Mikey and Richie were giggling among themselves as usual. You went home with a defeated sigh. The acceptance letter in your hand was clenched tightly. You remembered how you and Carmy filled up the forms together. He was fussing over every detail while you laughed at him. Where did it all go wrong?

Your hand shook when you sat on your bed. You couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you were going to college—that you were about to pursue your dreams. 

-

The first person that Carmy wanted to talk to after learning about Michael’s death was you. 

He didn’t give himself the time to cry over him; just like how he didn’t give himself the time to cry over his mistake of leaving you without saying anything. Mikey always told him that he was weak because he was sensitive and was in tune with his emotions. He didn’t know that he always had to have to guard up at his own home because he was scared of what his mom and brother might do next.

When he arrived in Chicago for the first time in years, his heart dropped. You weren’t there to pick him up. Who was he kidding? He left you to yourself without so much of an explanation. He didn’t even tell you that he changed his dream. Was it a dream? Or did he pursue it out of spite? To show Mikey that he was better than him? He wanted Mikey to look at him with such jealousy…such envy because Mikey didn’t graduate from college. He was a drop out with too many plans and too many failures. Carmy was better than him. Carmy managed to go to Noma without anyone’s help. He wanted Mikey to seethe when he sees him. So why was he in his brother’s failing sandwich shop instead of cooking for the President?

He’s been looking for you for weeks now but he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t ask Richie because he was ashamed. He just wanted to walk home with you again. He was sure that Sugar knew where you were. She was the type to be in touch with everyone but he never brought himself to it. 

When he was in a relationship with Claire, you were momentarily put on his back burner. She was beautiful, he knew that. As kids, you’d always find a way to make Claire talk to Carmy. 

“Remember Y/N?” Claire asked. Carmy’s back tenses as he prepares to go to what will soon be The Bear. Claire watched him put his white shirt from the bed. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t know. She always found a way to make us talk to each other,” she shrugged. “I used to think you guys would end up together…or were together,”

“Why-why would you think that?” Carmy asked, facing her. He furrows his brows like he was so confused. The notion was foreign to him. 

“Everybody thought so too. You walked her home everyday and you’d draw her all the time. You guys were so close. Some guys didn’t bother to ask her out because they thought you were together. I didn’t make a move on you because I thought the same,” she swallows. She feels shy about what she just confessed to him. Did he catch it? “Everyone thought you broke up because you suddenly stopped hanging out,”

Carmy stood there, speechless. What was he supposed to say to that? Why did his girlfriend say that?

“But it doesn’t matter anymore,” he hears her. She gets out of bed and walks over to him. She hangs her arms on his shoulder. “We’re together now,”

“Yeah. We are,” he says, kissing her forehead. He didn’t feel how embarrassed Claire felt. He was thinking about something else.

-

“Should we invite Y/N to the opening?”

His question caused the chaos to stop. Sugar drops the pen that she used on whatever it was she was writing while Richie raises his eyebrows. 

“Or not,”

Sugar looks at him quizzically. She looks at Richie next and then, Eibra. They knew you. You frequented the sandwich shop with your mom when you were younger. Carmy brought you here to piss on Michael. 

“What?” he asked. “We don’t have to. Fuck—okay, let’s not,” he stammered, his last word was weak. Sydney was confused. “Anyways, I uh—fuck. Let’s take five,”

“What?” Sugar asks. “No, no, no. We have to finalize this list now, Carm.”

“Yeah, I know that. I-I—“

“Even if we were to invite her, I don’t know where she is anymore,” His heart stops beating. He was so sure she knew.

“What?”

“She left for college,” Richie explained. “Seemed like her whole family left with her too. Their house is occupied by a new family now. We’re surprised you didn’t know. She told us that you guys were still in contact when you left,”

It was his turn to be confused. His mind was racing. Were you alright? Where are you now? Do you remember him? Do you still have the drawing he made of you?

“I totally forgot about her,” Richie confessed, chuckling. Carmy looks at him, his eyes turning into slits. His cousin raises his hand in surrender. 

“You didn’t bother to ask?” he asks Sugar. “You grew up with her too, right?” He couldn't help but feel resentful. Why didn’t she treasure you like she treasured everyone else?

“Carm, she was your friend,” He runs his hand through his hair. He closes his eyes and counts to three. “Besides, she disappeared without a word…just like you did. As far as I know, she left first and then, her mom did.”

“Let’s take five,” he declares before leaving.

-

He rummages through his phone and tries to remember his old email address. He really wanted you to be there. He wanted to hear about your dreams and he wanted you to hear about his. He never found the courage to look you up on the internet. He didn’t want to know the hard truth. 

His hands tremble as he holds his phone when Claire’s name pops up from the screen. He shouldn’t be worrying about you—he should be worried about Claire. The girl he loves. The girl he’s always dreamed of. Right, Claire. Claire. Claire Dunlop. They met again by the frozen aisle of the store. 

“Hey,”

“Carm,” Her voice soothes him. “Just wanted to…check-in. You left feeling kind of not okay? How are you now?”

“I’m good,” he says. “Just remembered Y/N. I wanted to—uh, I wanted to invite her to the opening…if-if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, it is. She was your best friend,”

“I don’t know how to reach her…would you know?” he swallows. He felt like shit for asking about another girl to his girlfriend. “Claire?”

“Hm, let me ask around. I’m sure somebody knows. She kind of fell out of the radar after you left,” she says. Everyone thought you eloped. She kept that part to herself. 

“Cool. Thanks. Let me know,” he says. He looks at the time. “I have to go,”

“Alright,” she says. I love you. She kept that too. “See you tonight?”

“I’ll let you know.” He ends the call and sets his phone down. He rummages through the drawers to look for clues you might have left behind. He wanted to look for you. He didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to do so. It’s not like he has any right to. He pauses, looking at a distance. He tries to rack his brain for that stupid email. He rushes out of the office and sees Sugar. 

“Do you remember what my old email was?”

-

The Bear opens and you weren’t there. Sugar can’t remember his old email. Carmy forbade her to look you up. It could have been as easy as that but he didn’t want to. He can feel himself slipping away from Claire the more he busies himself with work. He tries to busy himself with work because he tries to bury the guilt of leaving you behind. Sugar told him that you went to his childhood home the day after he left Chicago. She said she got into the arts school that you both applied to. You were probably on the way to tell him about the news. He feels horrible. 

Carmy knew that despite your charm, you were self-destructive. You were both alike that way. You have the tendency to self-isolate whenever you feel upset. One time, Carmy accidentally said something hurtful towards you. You pushed him away. He had to climb to your window and apologize before everything was alright again. When your mother scolded you, you’d lock yourself in your room and stay in the library until it closed so you wouldn’t have to see your mom. When you didn’t get the role that you wanted for a play, you’d distance yourself from everyone until everybody started to miss you. 

“You’re the only one who can get me out,” you once told him. You said it in such a teasing manner that he only brushed it off. He didn’t think about it before but it’s all he’s been thinking about now. Would you let him bring you out again? 

Claire broke up with him when The Bear opened. He brought all of his anger out to Richie. He was an island. He was alone and was out of touch. He’d go to work, cook, and then leave. He didn’t talk to anyone. He’d just scream his head off until he blows off the steam. This is the dream, right? 

He decided to go out and explore today. He had to go to Aurora, a city near Chicago to meet up with a potential supplier. He wanted to introduce a new item to the menu. He let go of the bucatini and other items. Last night, he stood a foot away from the island, looking at the food he just prepared. They were so intricate…they reminded him of you. All the food was reminiscent of your childhood with him. He didn’t know what happened for him to finally feel the gaping hole in his life shaped like you. 

He arrives at the spice store hidden from the main road. It was quaint and the shelves were lined with jars of tea and various spices from around the world. Jugs of flavored vinegars were displayed for purchase. When he entered, the aroma of the jars enveloped his nose. He happened to find this spice store on the list of possible suppliers that Sugar prepared before The Bear opened. He felt right at home with the creaky wooden floors and warm lighting. 

“Can I help you, sir?” the attendant from the cashier at the corner asked. He walks over to her and studies her corner. A framed paper caught his eye. It was too easy to miss to the unknowing eye but he saw it. The frame was on the very top, almost touching the low ceiling. His entire world stops and he sees it. He sees you. He sees the drawing that you took from him on that afternoon in the library. 

“I…,” he swallows. “Do you know the—the artist of…of that portrait?” he asked, pointing at his sketch. 

“Oh. I’m not sure, sir but the owner might know,” the attendant replied. Carmy nods. 

“I’m actually here for uh, a meeting? I’m the owner of a restaurant in Chicago and I-I…am here to meet for a possible partnership,” 

”Oh! Of course,” she nods, looking at the piece of paper the manager gave. “Mr. Berzatto?” 

“Yes,” 

”The manager will be here soon. May I lead you to the backroom? Would you like some tea?” she asked. She sees him play with a plastic of tea bears. “Tea bears. It’s the first of its kind. It’s a gummy bear that you can dissolve in water for tea. You can also eat it as is. Would you like to try a flavor? I recommend the blueberry and blue pea,”

”Oh, uh—sure,” he nods, following her to the back. Carmy sits down and the attendant leaves. He looks around the room. The walls had awards and other accolades. The attendant arrives with a cup of hot water and some colorful tea bears. 

“Just add one to the water and snack on the rest,” she smiles. He picks up a tea bear and studies it. It kind of reminds him of you. He remembers how much you loved tea. He gifted you exotic and expensive teas every time. He knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but what were the odds? There was only one copy of that drawing in the world and it was supposed to belong to you. The manager arrives just right after he bit on the head of the first bear. Vanilla and raspberry.

”Hello, Mr. Berzatto,” he says. He was a stout man with a kind face. “Sorry for my lateness,”

”I was early,” he says, standing up to shake the other man’s hand. 

“Tea bears,” he acknowledges and Carmy smiles a little bit. ”I hope the drive wasn’t too tiring,”

”It wasn’t,” he replied. “I have the documents with me,” He lays the folder on the table with information about The Bear. 

“I take it you’re the owner?” he asks Carmy. He nods, and the manager reads over the company profile. He wastes no time asking Carmy about The Bear. Carmy answers them and he’s so tired. He should have made Sugar come here instead. The meeting ends without a fuss. 

“Do you have any questions?”

“It’s not really about the spices but the portrait on the counter. I want to have a portrait made,” he says. 

“Oh,” the manager looks at the cup of tea that Carmy drank. “I’m not quite sure but I’ll be sure to ask the owner. Bea has a couple of spice samples ready for you outside,” 

Carmy stands up and exits the room. He drives home with a brown paper bag and a picture of the portrait that hangs on the wall. It was you. It was you. 

He couldn’t sleep that night. The spices for the new menu sits on his kitchen counter, untouched. He thinks about it. What happened? He thought you were an actress. That was what your dream was. He couldn’t help it. The itch that his fingers have makes him reach for his phone. Before he knew it, he was on Google, typing your name. 

“Fuck!” he shouts, throwing the phone from across his bed. “Fuck, no, no, no.” He shuts his eyes close and pinches his nose. Why now? The Bear was in shambles. Richie hated him, Claire hated him, he hated himself. Was he only reaching out to you because he knew that he wouldn't feel the hatred?

-

“There were some problems with the renter of your house in Chicago,” you heard. You looked up from your office table and frowned. 

“I thought that house was rented properly?” you asked. It’s been ten years since you went there. Or was it five? You couldn’t keep count anymore. That house was a house of horrors that you’d never want to revisit again. Hell, you never wanted to set foot in Chicago again. 

“The renters want to meet up with you. They said that you purposely kept important information from them when you leased the house. They were complaining about the backyard and would not budge until you go there,” he says. You pinched your nose. 

“Can’t we look for other interested renters?” you were annoyed. ”Or just give them a refund?”

”Sadly, nobody wants to rent the house anymore because it hasn’t been renovated for years,” 

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Alright,” 

-

Your flight to Chicago was long. Your college was quickly spent in New York. You decided not to stay there. You thought of your old house. It could have been sold ten years ago but you didn’t want to. Your uncles and aunts all agreed that if there were no renters, it was going to be sold. You couldn’t defy their demands, they all inherited the house with your mom from their father. You all shared the profits yearly and you didn’t want to sell the house. You couldn’t just leave everything behind entirely. 

Stepping back in Chicago was…something. There was a rush of emotions that filled you and as you met up with your driver, you felt weak. You didn’t want to be back here but you had no other choice. You were tied down to that two storey house. You were just hoping that you won’t run into anyone. The plan was to stay here, four days at most and then leave before anyone else sees you. You didn’t want to make up stories in your head again about how you and him kept in contact when you knew that it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. None of it was. You just wanted to be comforted by the lie that you tried so hard to believe. 

The hotel was nice. You were thinking of driving outside of Chicago to check some matters before going to New York. The next morning, you decided to go out for a run and grab coffee. You wondered if your old favorite cafe still opened. It was fairly far from your old home and The Beef. You wondered if people still went there. It wasn’t hip and the food was greasy but their brewed coffee was heaven.

The city has changed a lot since the last time you’ve been here. You don’t remember the streets being this way. Vacant lots turned into buildings and skyscrapers. It was odd. You once knew every nook and cranny of the city but not anymore. That afternoon, when you arrived at your old house, you couldn’t even recognize the street. The old houses were torn to pieces and were built with modern houses. The only houses that remained exactly the same were yours and the Berzattos’. It seemed empty, though. It used to have cars and chaos but it was quiet. As if…it hasn’t been lived in. You paid it no mind and knocked on your old door, revealing the new tenants of the house. 

They immediately showed you what their problem was. Fucking grass. You booked a flight and stayed at an expensive hotel for grass. It wasn’t the same as in the pictures. That was their main concern. You stood there, in your backyard, mouth pressed into a thin line in annoyance. 

“I see,” you only nodded. “I can arrange landscaping services for you,” 

“But that would be expensive. The only reason why we rented this old house is because we wanted to have a garden. Otherwise, we would’ve rented somewhere that’s actually…nicer,” the tenant says. Seeing your souring expression, she added, “This place is nice…homey. I can’t afford landscaping services,”

You only nodded, trying to think of someone who might know a landscaper. 

“Can you give me until tomorrow to sort this out?” 

“Sure,’

When you arrived at the hotel that night, you thought of the people you knew who had good lawns and backyards. Your agent can’t obviously do shit. You have to fire him soon. All the services in Chicago were way more expensive than you were willing to spend. Who had a good lawn…whose mother always had a manicured garden?

-

“Fak!” 

The man rushes into the kitchen, looking at the ensemble of people gathered where Sydney and Carmy usually stood. 

“The light,” Carmy pointed. “It’s doing that thing again,” The light buzzes and blinks, as if Carmy ordered it to do so. He had that ability sometimes. He can make the world move. 

“I got it, I got it,” he says, going out and coming back soon with a ladder and his tool box. He listens to the crew made up of Richie, Tina, Sydney, Carmy, and Sugar bicker while he tries to fix it. They always bickered and it stresses him out most of the time. ”Ugh, you guys! Stop screaming at each other!”

They ignored him, Carmy was in a screaming contest with Richie while the others tried to pacify the situation. Their relationship hasn’t gone back to the way it was after the fridge incident. 

”We’re closed today, right?” Fak asked, trying to tighten the screw.

“Yes, darling,” he hears Sugar. 

“Great because Y/N asked me to come by their old house,” he says. He takes note of the sudden silence and takes it as his permission to continue. “She’s back in town and wanted me to check their lawn because she told me that she remembered how nice Ma’s garden was, remember? Anyways, she wanted me to check and get her a connect with a gardener or a landscaper,” 

“Wh-what?” Carmy sputters. “What the fuck are you saying, Fak? Y/N hasn’t been here in-in-in fucking years,”

”Yeah but she’s here,” he shrugs. He climbs down the ladder with a smile on his face. “It’s a good thing I never changed my phone number. She wouldn’t have been able to call me if I did,”

Carmy visibly disintegrates before everyone in the kitchen. He stands there, memories of his abandonment haunting him and his eyes blinking rapidly. You were in town?

”When are you meeting her?” 

“Today,” 

Fuck. If only he didn’t promise himself to do something today. He needed to focus. He didn’t need you, right?

-

After treating Fak to a quick dinner, you immediately went home. He sadly told you that he wished you’d visit The Bear. Carmy was here now and he opened the restaurant. He told you that you’ll be welcome anytime as long as you tell him first so he can tell Richie. Richie was the front of house staff now and Fak said that Richie improved, like a lot. He showed you photos of Sugar’s cute baby. He told you that Eibra and Tina still worked there but most surprisingly, he told you that Mikey was dead. 

That part shook you. You were never really close with him but he was always nice to you. Carmy idolized him and always sought his approval. It must have been hard for him. Hearing that he didn’t attend the funeral didn’t surprise you, though. You always imagined that Carmy will do some fucked up things if it really came down to it. Years of not knowing what Carment Berzatto became brought both a hollow feeling in your chest and assurance. You never had to know if he was better without you. You chewed on the hangnail on your perfectly manicured finger. Carmy was here again and so were you. Would it be so bad to see him again? Even if it was just a glimpse…would it be so bad to see how he was after all these years? 

The night before left you with eyebags. The thought that you and Carmy were here woke you up all night. You didn’t know what to do. Does he know that you’re here too? You tried to cover the bags with a concealer you brought. You were on auto-pilot as you went to the basement to take your rental car. You were going to Aurora today to look over the shop. What was a drive anyway? You were in Aurora every other month for the business that you built when you were younger. It proved to be successful, though. 

You arrived at your first business venture, The Alchemist. You were young and full of wonder when you named it. The Alchemist…you used to call your mother that because she made so many things in the kitchen with nothing. It was a way to remember her legacy and other mixes that she made when you were younger. Now, though, you asked chefs and homecooks to make recipes for pre-mixed spices for your business. You always went back to ‘Alchemy No. 1’, a spice blend made and frequently used by your mother when she was still alive. 

You entered the store lined with jars of spices and flavored vinegars. The smell of herbs that you sourced from all over the world create an aroma that reminds you of home. 

“How is everything?” you asked her.

“Mr. Lee just is about to close a deal with a promising restaurant,”

”He told me about it,” you told Dana. “Sorry if I can’t come here as often as I’d like,”

”That’s alright,” she assures you. You pick a packet of assorted tea bears that you give to the customers to sample and open it. Taking a pink one, you melted the bear in the paper cup with hot water to drink the raspberry and vanilla flavored tea. “Mr. Lee makes the job easier, really,”

”I’m glad,” you told her. “I heard there’s a meeting today?”

”Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “It’s about to start in thirty minutes, actually. Are you planning to join?”

”Yes,” you told her. “I hope they won’t mind,” 

You were sitting on the chair in the meeting room when the door opened. Your heart drops for some reason. Your palms sweat and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You stood up, looked  towards the opened door and saw him. Carmy. Carmy was here. He stops his movement—even his breathing and lets go of the door knob. He clutches the folder in his hands and looks at you with wide eyes. 

He’s aged. He looked tired and his face matured but his eyes were still as blue as ever, demanding you to open up to him. 

You looked older but you looked content. The fine lines that he’s never seen on you before makes you look more beautiful than you’ve ever been. 

He opens his mouth first but no words come out. You tried to do the same but you suddenly forgot all of the words that you could say. The pain in your lungs and the quiver in your voice manages to croak out something that snaps him out of his shock. 

“Hey,” a wobbly smile graces your features and he steps forward. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back but you didn’t. 

He watches your hand tremble and he wonders if he could still hold them like he used to. 

You watch him take shaky breaths and remember how you used to soothe his back to stop him. 

“I can leave,” you said, looking down. He frowns and licks his lips.

”You don’t have to,”

”No, I’ll—“

”You don’t have to run away,”

”You ran away from me all those years ago,”

Snap. If you could break his bones with your words, you already would have.

”But…” you swallowed thickly. “but it doesn’t matter anymore,” you whispered. You resented yourself for bringing that up. You should be happy that he’s doing fine, right? 

“Y/N—“

”Let it go,”

”Please,”

”Carmy,” you finally look at him. You still called him Carmy. 

“I have to talk to you,”

”I understand, alright?” you grit. “I—I—“ you breathed in. “I can’t be here,”

”Y/N, please,” you hear him plead. His voice breaks and you do too. Maybe because you always had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was because you realized that you loved him. Maybe it was because you pitied him…either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what you said next. 

“The Peninsula,” you told him. “Under my last name. Tomorrow,”

It was all you said to him before you left him in the meeting room. A few minutes later, Mr. Lee greets him and they close the deal. 

-

Today was Monday, which meant that Carmy had either the morning or after the restaurant closes to come to you. If he comes to The Peninsula after, you might leave thinking that he never cared. If he comes tomorrow, he might not be able to prepare. He thinks that he’s at his best and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to focus if he didn’t go to you. He’ll just fuck things up in the kitchen if he doesn’t go to you. So, at 5:30 a.m., he goes to your hotel and asks for your room number. It seemed like you’ve already informed the receptionist of your arrival and they let him come up. 

He knocks the door erratically. You rouse from the bed, alarmed because who would knock at 5:30 a.m.? You couldn’t sleep no matter what you did. With a grip on the remote control of the TV, you peeped into the hole to find Carmy. 

“Y/N?” he calls from the outside. You tossed the remote control away and opened the door.

“It’s not even six yet,” were the words you told him as he sees you in the robe. “Carmy?”

“Sorry but—but I,” he draws in a breath. “Sorry I just, I wanted to go here before anything else because…because I know that if I don’t, I’ll be thinking about it and I won’t be able to focus,”

“Come in,”

Carmy steps inside your hotel room and looks around. Fancy. You used to dream about going to a place like this when you were younger. He stands there awkwardly by the foyer and you motion for him to sit down on the couch. He does so and watches you lean on the wall, as far away from him as possible without it being really obvious but it was. 

A beat passes with Carmy’s eyes trained on you. You’ve never felt out of touch in his life than now. He watches you with wide eyes while you look everywhere but his face. There were no stains in his shirt and his curls were messier than you remember. You purse your lips and Carmy sighs. Really, Chicago felt so suffocating for the both of you. Being trapped in the small hotel room made it harder to breathe. What could you say? What could he say? The last time you saw each other, you pushed him away. What if you do it again? 

“I’m sorry,” 

Your head snaps up to look at his face. You frowned. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers, feeling ashamed of everything. Now that you’ve looked at him, he feels like he was under a microscope and he grew to hate the feeling of being studied like that. “I’m so, so, so, fucking sorry,”

He bows his head in shame just as you look away, to the window so he wouldn’t see you wiping your tears. The sun was about to rise and it pains you because you realized that you loved him more when you spent that sunset in the library. 

“Why did—“ you stop yourself. “Why did you leave me, Carmy?”

His heart beats fast, his fists clenching on his lap. Why?

”I didn’t deserve that,” you told him. “I didn’t deserve that and you—you just pushed me away. You could’ve at least said goodbye before—before you left the country. Fuck. I spent the past years wondering what I did wrong, Carmy. Do you know how that feels? I followed you like a lost puppy every fucking day and you suddenly decided that you were done with-with-with me. With us,” 

He frowns, he doesn’t remember your childhood like that. For him, he was always in the sideways. He was the one who always had to follow you. 

“My mom thought that making you lunch was the only way for you to s-stay,” he tells you, looking down. He studies the cuts he earned in the kitchen. “I felt—I felt like that too, you know? Everybody liked you wherever you went and I only…I only had to catch up after you,”

”Carm, you don’t even like people,”

That stings him for some reason and he frowns deeper. He bites his lip and shakes his head. How would you understand? Everybody loved you and he was so hard to love that his brother decided that he was done with him. 

“Why did you push me away? Why—“ you choke back a sob. “Why did you leave me?” 

The string that you tied around his heart grips it tighter. Memories of you, him, Mikey, that Christmas with his mom, the first time he smoked a cigarette, and the last time he looked at your house comes rushing back to him. 

“You know, I started—started smoking when I left,” he chuckled. “It made sense…once I arrived in Copenhagen, the next logical thing was to, uh, buy a pack of cigarettes,” He hopes you understood what he tried to say. 

”I’m not your babysitter,”

”I know,” he says. He thinks and you do too. You realized that too much resentment and emotions will get you nowhere.

”Carmy, I know you’re sorry but…but for tonight, can-can we just pretend like you never left?” you asked. He looks at you now, the sunrise illuminating your face differently from that sunset you shared. “Can we..can we pretend like we just lost touch and-and that we’re catching up?” 

You look at him sadly, with your mouth downturned slightly. There were so many things to say and emotions to be felt. You couldn’t afford to unpack everything in a day and you were unsure if you wanted him back in your life just yet. You missed him but you didn’t know if you could handle another person leaving you. You’ve had enough people leaving you in this lifetime. Maybe that’s why you were so lonely. Maybe that’s why you don’t have friends and maybe that’s why everyone else seemed to have had enough of you never letting them in. What was the point anyway? Everything’s going to end and love doesn’t last forever. Who would have thought that the two people you loved most can teach you such a harrowing lesson? 

Besides, you were unsure if you were ready to let all the love you’ve had for Carmy come to the surface and overflow again. The last time he left, would be the last time he leaves. 

“Y/N?” he calls, standing up from the couch to walk towards you. Maybe just for now, this is enough. You smile at him, just like you did when you were younger. Like everything was alright. 

“Carmy,” you smile as you let his calloused hands wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry for crying,”

”I’m sorry for making you cry,” he tries to say but his stutter breaks out and he looks down in shame. You reach out to him, your hands clutching the sides of his white shirt. He tries again, this time his voice was much clearer. His head seemed to put everything in his backburner. He has to savor this moment because who knows what will happen? He decided that the last time he left would be the last time he leaves you. A sob threatens to rip his chest but he swallows it down. “How have you been?” 

Your arms snake around his waist and you lay your head on his chest. You can hear his heart beating so fast. Does he hear yours too? He takes in your scent. You smell different now. 

He caresses the back of your head and kisses it. You take in a sharp breath. He’s never done that before. He tightens his grip around you, afraid to let go. 

“Did you achieve your dream?” 

-

You’re both laying down on the bed. The tender moment you shared was interrupted by your alarm. You watch each other now, wondering who breaks the ice first. Carmy’s arms wrap around you while you snuggle closer in his chest, clinging onto every piece of hope left. Your forehead is tucked under his chin and you breathed.

“I became an actress for a while,” you started. The air feels heavy but you decided to push it aside. “but I decided not to continue.”

“Why?”

“I went to college after you—after high school. I stayed there for a semester before…before I dropped out,” you said. “Carmy, they were so much better than me—“

“That’s not true,”

“But it is,” you chuckled sadly. “That wasn’t even the main reason but…but remember mom was sick?” He nods. “Well, she got…she—she got sicker and we had to use the college fund for her treatment,” you said. You don’t try to hide the sniffles. “In the end…in the end, I never went back to college and she didn’t…she didn’t make it,” your voice broke. The images of your mom in her casket never seemed to leave your mind. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “My mom and I—“ You shuddered, remembering the time when your mother had to personally refuse any more care. You knew that she didn’t want you to be in debt. It was hard to spend your college fund but she couldn’t leave you with debt that you’ll pay forever.

”I know,” he says. He couldn’t bear hearing your voice break again. His eyes were red and tears threatened to spill. Fuck. He wasn’t there when you needed him. He knew how close you and your mom were. He couldn’t even say sorry because you both didn’t want to and didn’t know how to address the elephant in the hotel room. 

“But then…then, I tried to act,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of the white robe. Carmy hears the tiredness in your voice but doesn’t mention it. “I had an audition and I got lucky. I got a recurring role in a hit TV series. I thought I was happy. I thought—I thought that I finally got what I wanted but I felt so alone, Carm. I didn’t have my mom with me…she will never—she will never watch anything that I’ll do but I persisted,” the small circles he drew on your back soothed you. “But then…the producer wanted to meet with me and I—he said that if I removed my clothes, he’ll make me a star,” his grip tightened. ”I removed my shirt and sat in his office half naked. It didn’t bother me. I knew…I knew what I was getting into but he-he wanted more and I had to leave,”

Carmy lets go of the breath that he didn’t know he was holding. 

“I was fine with sitting there…like…like I was some fucking object. He could look all he wanted and I didn’t fucking care but he tried—he tried to touch me and I pushed him away,” you cried. He was around your age and was already successful when you came to the picture. He made you trust him. “He had my name blacklisted. I could never…I couldn’t do shit about it. I couldn’t land a job before I realized that maybe…maybe acting wasn’t for me,” you whispered. “I was only there because…he wanted someone to take advantage of,” 

You cry in his arms as you share your burden with him. You had nobody to talk to when it happened. You were alone. You were so, so, so alone. 

”I opened The Alchemy with the money that I have left and my business grew from there,” you said after calming yourself down. “I have the money but…but I feel so, so, so alone,”

He cooes and you bury yourself deeper in his arms. He mutters things you couldn’t understand. Carmy lets his tears flow as you calm yourself down. How can he tell you all about him if you’re so frail? He didn’t want to burden you any longer. 

He doesn’t know how many minutes passed before he heard your breath even itself out. He unwraps his arms around you as carefully as he could. You were fast asleep and didn’t want to wake you. It takes a lot for him to remove himself from the bed that you shared for a few hours but soon, he finds himself wearing his jacket, walking away from the Peninsula. He forgot to count the number of cigarettes he smoked ever since he stepped his foot outside. He forgot to take his heart with him when he left it with you. 

He runs a hand through his hair and arrives at the kitchen with profound sadness that his staff has never seen him carry. He locks himself in the office and takes out the notebook he managed to find in his apartment the night before. The email address and the password that he tried so hard to remember glares at him before clicking on ‘Next’. Emails from his childhood pop up but one stands out. Who would have thought that his email address was as easy to remember as combining your names together? 

He shakily clicks on your old email address and takes a sharp breath as he reads the last thing you’ve sent him. 

Carmy,

I heard from Donna that you’re in Copenhagen now. I hope everything’s fine between us because the last time I tried, you refused to speak to me. I don’t mind. I hope we talk again someday because you’re the only person in the world who I can talk to without hiding anything. I hope you gave me the chance to say this. I was planning on telling you anyway before we enter college. I don’t know why I’m saying this now. Maybe I’m doing this because I’m selfish. I’m hoping that you’d come back or maybe talk to me again if I do. If you don’t reply, I’ll take it as a rejection and try to move on with my life. I’ll be happy for you either way. 

I love you, Carmy. I love you so much and I hope that you’re out there, pursuing your dreams. I will always be rooting for you. 

I love you. 

He throws his phone on the floor. He’s positive that there’s another crack on the screen now. He screams profanities and ignores the urgent knocks that Sugar was making outside his door. His head falls in his hands and he sobs. You were right. If he read the message, he’d book the next flight home.

He only dreams to be loved and to love without anything holding him back but dreams have a way of appearing brighter when you’re younger.

END.  A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for waiting for me! I hope this was worth it. I’m really proud of this and as always, don’t forget to reblog / comment / tell me what you think! Love you.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

[buckyispunk]

Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii. 

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere. 

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up. 

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him? 

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came. 

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is. 

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him. 

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day. 

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again. 

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.  

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself. 

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked. 

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression. 

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance. 

Flight DL4567 now boarding. 

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival. 

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival. 

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think. 

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore. 

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky. 

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight. 

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be. 

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take. 

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig. 

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room. 

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand. 

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through. 

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now. 

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you. 

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet. 

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people. 

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice. 

 “Course, doll,” another smile. 

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five. 

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him. 

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet. 

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours. 

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you. 

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same. 

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week. 

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line. 

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you. 

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something. 

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow. 

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it. 

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes. 

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up. 

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room. 

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?” 

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun. 

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body. 

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.  

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again. 

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar. 

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair. 

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.” 

You nod and take a sip of your drink. 

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth. 

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.” 

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.  

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.” 

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information. 

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink. 

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you. 

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way. 

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter. 

Via cannonball. 

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog. 

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool. 

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands. 

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water. 

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard. 

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec. 

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw. 

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own. 

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person. 

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching. 

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested. 

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him. 

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender. 

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other. 

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding. 

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face. 

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him. 

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed. 

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance. 

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway. 

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him. 

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!” 

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself. 

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky. 

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi. 

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating. 

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage. 

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu. 

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you. 

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze. 

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?” 

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices. 

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you. 

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite. 

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?” 

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it. 

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong. 

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks. 

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking. 

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him. 

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms. 

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal. 

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it. 

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast. 

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?” 

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head. 

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge. 

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole. 

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether. 

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied. 

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again. 

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob. 

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach. 

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again. 

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream. 

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back. 

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are. 

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

[hughes86-43]

“You look really good in my clothes” | N. Hischier

note - two anons sent in the same request so I just made it into this!

warnings - none! maybe some grammar errors!

You walked into your apartment, immediately closing the door and dropping your keys on the table nearby. You walked down the hallway and placed your several bags onto the dining table. You were so glad to be home from work, and you needed to get out of your work clothes as soon as possible.

You take a shower to get all the days work off of you, but you also just needed to get warm from how cold it was on your walk from work. You hop out of the shower and put on your robe and make your way to the walk-in closet you share with your boyfriend, Nico. However, you go to his side of the closet rather than yours.

You pick out one of your favorite hoodies of his, a cozy New Jersey devils one, and you grab a pair of sweatpants, they’re a bit loose on you but nothing a little tying up can’t fix. You place your robe back into the bathroom, finish getting ready for the night, and make your way to the kitchen to get dinner ready. Nico would be home soon enough from hanging out with some of his teammates.

Thirty minutes later, you’re standing facing the stove making some spaghetti, when you hear the front door open and close. Soon enough, you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. “Schatzi? Are you home?”

“In the kitchen, Neeks!” You call out to him.

You turn your attention back to the food on the stove and wait for him to come find you. After about two minutes, you feel a gaze on you, so you turn around. Nico is leaning against the doorway, running his eyes up and down your body. You know he has noticed that you’re wearing his clothes, even though you know he doesn’t mind, you turn a bit shy at his gaze.

“Schatzi, you look really good in my clothes,” he says, never once taking his eyes off of you.

“I know right? I might just keep taking them!” You laugh out as he comes walking closer to you.

He pulls you closer to him by the waistband of your his sweatpants, tugging them a bit since they’re too loose on you. You laugh as he pulls them up on you. He says, “I don’t mind if you do, but they may just fall down a bit!” You give him a peck on the lips and squeeze him tighter before turning around back to the stove before the food you’re making burns.

“I’m making spaghetti, we don’t have much else, so I hope that’s okay,” you say turning your head to see him already eating a piece of bread. “Hey! Dinner isn’t done, yet! No taking food!”

“I’m hungry! The guys didn’t feed me because they all seemed to eat before we went to hang out, so I starved the whole time.” He gives you puppy dog eyes so that you’ll let him get another piece of bread.

“Fine, one piece and that’s it until food is done!” When he turns around, you playfully smack his butt with the spatula. He twirls around so fast with a grin on his face.

Pointing his finger at you, he says, “Watch it, or you’ll never get to wear my clothes again!”

You put the spatula behind your back, and nod your head playfully. “Fine, fine! But we both know you wouldn’t do that, you love seeing me in your clothes so much!”

Nico laughs, “Yeah, you’re right I wouldn’t, I do love seeing you in my clothes a lot.”

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Three

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N grapples with her pregnancy; Phoenix alludes to a previous relationship with Jake; Jake is shocked to find out he's going to be a father

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

Your first thought when the test turned positive was what Bobby was going to do to Jake. 

Your second thought was how sorry you felt for Jake to pull him into your disaster of a life. 

Because that’s what you were. A disaster. Bob said it in not so many words and always with a compliment attached because the two of you were Southern and you didn’t outright flaunt people’s flaws to their faces. But it was no longer cute to be out of work and aimless. 

Especially since you were about to be pregnant on top of all of it. 

***

“Can I borrow your truck again tomorrow?” you asked, swirling a piece of spaghetti around your plate. The smell of the tomatoes was making you sick, but you refused to show it. 

Bob nodded. “Sure. What for?” 

“Job interview.” 

“For what?” 

“Librarian.” 

Bob frowned, chewing his garlic bread thoughtfully. Then, “Is that what you want to do?” 

You sighed, putting your elbows on the small dining room table. “I don’t know. I need a job. I like books. How bad can it be?” 

He paused. “I can float you for a while,” Bob said quietly. “You don’t have to take a random job. I’d rather you find something you’re passionate about.” 

“I don’t want to be your burden.” 

“You’re my sister,” Bob said. “And I love you and I want what’s best for you.” 

“I’m a big girl, Bobby,” you whispered, a tear springing to your eye. “I need to figure out how to take care of myself?” 

“Why?” 

You shook your head. “I just do.” 

***

“Floyd!” Bradley clapped Bob on the back as the two of them headed back toward the training room. “You coming out tonight?” 

Bob shrugged. “Not sure. Y/N is acting a bit odd. I don’t know if she’ll want to go out.” 

“Odd?” Phoenix popped out of the corner door, shaking out her hair from her helmet. “How so?” 

“I don’t know. She’s normally pretty bubbly, happy. She’s been sad almost. I think she’s stressed about finding a job.” 

“Didn’t she go to Sewanee?” 

“Yeah. But she got a history degree. And it’s more than that.” Bob poured himself a cup of tea and sat down on one of the nearby couches. “She’s aimless. It’s not that she doesn’t have a job. It’s that she doesn’t know what she wants to do or who she wants to be.” 

“Do any of us?” Phoenix asked. 

Bob frowned. “I’ve wanted to be in the Navy since I was six.” 

Bradley nodded. “Same here, but younger than that. The first time I remember seeing my dad in his flight suit.” 

From across the room, Jake added, “I’ve wanted to be an aviator my whole life.” 

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “You three are so cliché I want to throw up.” Bradley laughed. “She’s twenty three. Don’t you meatheads remember what it was like being twenty three?” 

“She’s different,” Bob said quietly. “She acts tough, but she’s still just a little girl.” 

“Maybe you just see her like that because you’re her brother,” Jake interjected. Bob shot him a dark look. “What? I have sisters, I know how it is.” 

“You have no idea,” Bob replied. 

Phoenix raised her eyebrows. “How about I take her out,” she said. “Girls night or whatever.” 

“That'd be great.” 

She smiled at Bob, before shooting Jake a glare. “It’s a date.” 

***

“So, what made you move to San Diego?” 

You and Phoenix had exhausted the usual questions within the first twenty minutes of your friend date. What your favorite color was and if you liked Taylor Swift and whether or not Bob snored when he slept. You tapped your fingers against the table as the two of you waited for your drinks to come. The waiter shot you an impatient glance over his shoulder as he delivered a dish of calamari to the table three down from yours. “Spend more time with Bob,” you replied. “Change of pace.” 

“What’s Tennessee like?” she asked. “Bob doesn’t talk about it too much. He talks about you, but that’s it.” 

That felt like a loaded question from the way Natasha was looking at you. There were two ways to answer her question. You could talk about the mild weather, the hordes of bachelorette parties in Nashville, Graceland, how good hot chicken was, what it felt like to drive through the mountains. 

Or you could tell her what she actually was curious about. Why Bob was the way he was. The fact that he had practically raised you as his own child, while being a child himself. That your mother was a single mom, an ER nurse by day, and sometimes by night. That more than once, Bob had been the person to go out to the store to buy mac and cheese and stir it for you while you finished your homework at the chipped kitchen table. How the two of you had become a team, united, from a young age. 

“What do you really want to know?” you asked, leaning across the table. 

Her gaze softened as she said, “How you’re doing.” 

How were you doing? You were twenty three and pregnant out of wedlock, a secret that no one yet knew. Usually, Bob was the first person you told your secrets to. But this one was too big to burden him with. 

Instead, the secret was weighing you down. A small, egg-shaped secret buried within your center. “Tell me about Jake,” you said.

Phoenix leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I told you, you don’t want to go there.” 

“Humor me.” 

She sighed. “Jake is Jake. He’s cocky. He’s confident in himself. Too confident. He’s a bit of a jackass.” 

You heard something in her voice. “But?” 

“But underneath it all, there’s a guy who wants people to like him. Who is desperate for it. That’s what you don’t see at first. It’s why he gets dismissed or boxed up as simply an asshole.” 

“Did you love him?” you asked. 

Her gaze found yours. “No. But I probably could have.” 

You nodded. “What’s the story between him and Bobby?” 

“That I don’t know,” she said as your food arrived. “You’ll have to ask your brother.” 

“He won’t tell me. He’s weirdly coy about that kind of thing.” 

“Then maybe it’s best you don’t know.” 

“Maybe.” The smell of the chicken in front of you, which had sounded delicious on the menu when you ordered it twenty minutes before, made your stomach churn. You felt a wave of sickness running through your stomach, up your throat. “Excuse me.” 

You dashed out of your seat, Phoenix’s voice trailing after you as you practically jogged toward the bathroom, bursting through the open stall and emptying your stomach into the basin. The wave of nausea subsided and you leaned back against your heels, wiping at your mouth. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty and you rested your head against your arms, breathing in for a moment, collecting yourself. 

Back in the dining room, Phoenix looked up, eyes wide with concern, her veggie pasta cooling in front of her, uneaten. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

You nodded, sitting back down, draping your napkin over your lap, hoping to God that you didn’t smell like vomit. “Yeah, totally. Just really had to pee.” 

Phoenix’s eyes were laser sharp as they scanned your face, searching for the lie. But instead of calling you on it, she turned her gaze to the plate in front of her and started eating. 

Keeping this secret was going to be harder than you thought.

***

“Sure you don’t want to come?”  

You looked up from where you were sitting on the couch wearing a pair of sweats, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you. “Yup.” 

Bob stood in the doorway, frowning. He had on a button up shirt and a pair of jeans and boots, hair combed neatly, glasses crooked on his nose as always. You took a mental photo of him in that moment. Once he found out about the baby, nothing would ever be the same. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Go, please. Meet some girl, buy her a drink. Enjoy being a cute Navy guy for once.” 

Bob rolled his eyes. “Text me if you want me to come home early, OK?” 

“Go have fun.” You waited for the sound of the front door shutting softly before melting into the couch in an exhausted heap. You were tired all the time. And nauseous. 

27 Dresses played in the background as you dozed in and out of consciousness on the soft couch. It wasn’t until the scene in the bar when you heard the doorbell ring, waking you from your light slumber. 

“Fuck off!” you groaned, closing your eyes but the ringing picked up and you grunted, pausing the movie and pushing yourself upright toward the door. “What?” you exclaimed, tossing open the door. 

Jake stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “God, you’re crabby.” 

You stepped back. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“It’s me,” he replied. “Can I come in?” 

You frowned. “I guess.” Stepping back, you let Jake in before closing the door. Your hips pressed against the kitchen counter as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Well?” 

“You really don’t like me, do you?” he asked. 

“Like has nothing to do with it.” 

“Then what is it?” Jake demanded. 

“What are you doing here?” “I came to check on you,” he replied and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “Bob was worried. But he also was talking to some girl and hitting it off, so I said I'd save him the trip home.” 

“And he let you?” 

“She was pretty hot.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well I’m fine. So neither of you has to babysit me.” 

“You know what?” Jake ran one hand through his golden hair before pulling it down over his face, massaging his temples with his eyes closed. “You’re fucking hot, too. But you’re absolutely insane. You sleep with me. You tell me to pretend it never happened. Then you jump me in the Hard Deck bathroom before running away. Now you act like you can’t stand the sight of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing here to be honest.”

Jake turned, putting one hand on the door. Your voice stopped him. “I’m pregnant.” 

He turned, slowly, green eyes wide. Terror filled every inch of his beautiful face. “Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m not a slut,” you snapped. “You’re the only person I’ve been with in six months.” 

Jake was as frozen as a statue. You watched the color drain from his face. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing for the door handle, yanking it open. “I’m sorry.” 

And then he was gone, disappearing into the California night. Your breath in your chest felt heavy. And that’s when you realized you were going to do this alone. 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @mycobrakai1972 @xomrsalliej4787xo

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Soup or Salad

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: See I TOLD YOU GUYS I was still writing

Edmundo Díaz is literally the stupidest, lamest, most annoying man you’ve ever met in your life, and that’s saying something because you know Evan Buckley. 

Right now Eddie’s made it his life’s mission to not be touching you. He stands way too close in the kitchen, he sits too close at the table and he always takes the seat on the couch next to you. He’s even resorted to holding his finger right above your arm and making little faces as he says “I’m not touching you” and you scream for Bobby to make him stop. 

Yeah, life at the firehouse is fun. 

Today’s prank consisted of leaving a toy snake in your locker. The high-pitched scream and sound of Buck and Eddie’s laughter from upstairs got all three of you called into Bobby’s office and those two got their asses chewed out while you sniffled in the chair next to them. 

Which- okay kinda made Eddie feel bad. He didn’t want you to cry, he just wanted to scare you a little. 

“Hey so-” he stops you outside Cap’s office, he holds your arm, his rough fingertips so different from your soft skin. 

“I know he made us apologize and all, but I really do want you to know- without the pressure of him being here, I really am sorry Y/N” 

He’s not even really sure why he wants you to know he’s sorry, but he just does. You give him a polite thank you and walk away, still wiping at your eyes. 

That’s the third time he’s felt his heart flutter at the sight of you. A feeling he ties down, chains up, and rams as far down into the teeniest tiniest corner of his heart as he can. 

You do the exact same thing when your heart flutters when you catch him working out with Buck later. The way his body moves as he kicks the bag… it’s something else that’s for sure. 

“I know you’re all ready to get some sleep, but it’s nice you’re all here anyway,” Bobby says as he serves up the plates of spaghetti. You purposely pass the plate to Hen instead of Eddie and he rolls his eyes and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Listen, since you’re all here. Athena wants to have a nice dinner this weekend with everyone. She’s got a reservation at LaRue’s for all of us, including a plus one for you and Hen” he says as hands Chimney his plate. 

“What about us?” Buck huffs and Bobby chuckles 

“You three are as single as they come” 

“Especially Eddie,” you say as Bobby hands you your plate 

“Yeah, sure. When was the last time you got laid, Princess?” He throws a piece of garlic bread at you and you just barely catch it. 

“I don’t know, ask your mom” You wink at him and he kicks you under the table and you squeak before kicking him back. 

“I got laid last week,” Buck says nonchalantly, shoveling his spaghetti into his mouth. 

“Hold up what?!” Hen chokes on her apple juice and you turn to him, shaking his shoulders as Eddie pats her back, his mouth wide open

“Spill!! Now” 

“Can you hurry the fuck up?!” Eddie groans at you as you drag your feet back to the truck. 

A call had come in right around 4am, and you’d been curled up on the couch with a soft blanket you didn’t remember putting on but very much so welcomed. Everyone was up and ready to go in five minutes flat and they were off. 

Usually, everyone made sure you and Eddie were on opposite ends of the truck but it was too damn early to fuss with it and you ended up right next to him. It’s quieter than usual too, probably because it’s literally 4am and it’s slowly putting you to sleep. Your head falls over onto Eddie’s shoulder and he freezes for a second, looking over at you.

“Glad I could make a good pillow” He mumbles before turning his head to look out the window. He doesn’t exactly wake you up though, and he slouches down a little so your neck isn’t at a weird angle. 

The truck comes to a stop and everyone hops out, except you and Eddie. 

“Dude come on! This is-“ Buck comes back in, Eddie’s head is on yours with his hand in your lap and you’re cuddled into his side. Buck grins widely and pulls out his phone. 

“Oh I can’t wait to print this and plaster it all over the station”

He wakes you both up with an annoying little giggle and gently pokes at you two so you purposely wake up slowly and in each other's arms 

Which is how he ends up on the ground later while you and Eddie beat him up. 

“Do you always have to leave your clothes all over the place when you shower??” Eddie rolls his eyes at you 

You called dibs on the showers first when you got back to the station because the men’s showers had the best water pressure and that’s important okay. 

“I don’t know, ask your dad” You flick him off as you climb into the truck and plop down into the seat across from him. Everyone is already in, Buck is literally leaning on Hen completely asleep and she’s fading just as fast. 

“Do you ever shut up” He sighs as he pulls his knee to his chest and you pull off your gloves just to throw them at him.

“Do you ever stop whining?”

“Isn’t it a bit early for this?” Chim mumbles to Bobby who just shakes his head as he starts driving 

“Do you ever stop leaving your shit all over the floor?” He retorts, throwing your gloves back at you and you snatch them out of the air 

“You tripped over my shoe once!” 

“Three times actually. But who’s counting!” 

“Apparently you are, loser.”

“That’s the best you’ve got? Loser?” Eddie laughs at you cruelly 

“And you’ve got something better at 4am?!” You scoff and he grins widely 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty! Bitch? Useless? Human mattress?” 

Buck snorts and your head whips over to him as you slap his leg “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, the human mattress was funny. Okay okay I’m going back to sleep I’m sorry please continue” 

Eddie smiles smugly at you and your hands curl into fists. “You can call me whatever the fuck you want. You know? Maybe this is why your last girlfriend left you. Because you don’t know how to fucking respect women. Oh no, no it was the cheating, wasn’t it? She found someone with a better dick who actually knew how to use it!” 

“Oh shit” Chimney whispers from the front seat and Bobby nearly jumps from the truck just to get away from you two. 

“You little fucking-“ Eddie doesn’t even finish his sentence before Bobby is pulling over. 

“Are we home?” Buck mumbles sleepily looking around 

“Up front Diaz. Now” 

Bobby’s using his scary Captain voice and you both know you’re gonna get a talking to when you get back. Eddie throws his seatbelt off and slams the door open, switching seats with Chimney. 

As soon as Bobby pulls into the station Eddie is out of the truck and throwing his stuff into a pile in front of his shelf. 

“Eddie you can’t just-“ Bobby sighs as he goes storming into the back room and slamming the door shut. He turns to look over at you, and you walk quietly over to Eddie’s shelf and start to hang his stuff up neatly. 

“You two are constantly at each other’s throats,” He says, putting his hat up “This needs to stop or else I’m going to have to change one of your shifts. And I love you Y/N and the way you work with us but you were hired last” 

“I know, I know. He just. He’s so annoying! And he’s rude and pushy and- and-“

“Super hot” Buck walks past, to his shelf and you throw your hands in the air 

“Exactly!- wait- fuck” 

Everyone stops and you shake your head, waving your hands wildly “No. No, I did not fucking mean to agree with that absolutely heck no-“

“Oh my god, you like him” Chimney scoffs “And he likes you?!” 

Your mouth drops open, it’s moving but no words are coming out as you stare at him. 

“There- no- no fucking no-“ You splutter and Hen comes over now, putting her hands on your shoulders 

“It’s okay honey. We all know how you feel about each other”

“A-are you shitting me?!! I’d rather jump in a boiling lake of lava than sleep with Eddie!!” 

“I mean… no one said anything about sleeping with him” Bobby mumbles and Buck who’s been suspiciously quiet snorts and pushes Bobby’s shoulder. 

“You’re not supposed to be encouraging this!” You snap, stomping your foot “You guys freaking suck!” You storm away to the supply room to refill the truck with all fucking four of them singing “Eddie and Y/N sitting in a tree” behind you 

They leave you both alone for an hour at least as you angrily refill the truck, occasionally kicking the large tires and grumbling to yourself about how stupid they all are 

You do not like Eddie, and he’s definitely not super hot. He’s stupid, and pigheaded, and annoying. He’s tall, and smelly and- okay well that’s not true he actually smells really good. And well now that you’re thinking about it it’s not very nice to you know say he’s not at least cute. Because, yeah sure, you guess by, societal standards he may be slightly a teeny tiny bit attractive… 

“Fuck. No” You shake your head, pissed off. There’s absolutely no way you’re into that asshole or that he’s into you. This is the man who ruined your last four dates! He always had some stupid reason as to why you couldn’t make it, he even gave your last date the wrong directions to the firehouse to pick you up! 

No. No there’s no way you two could ever be interested in each other 

Eddie comes over to the truck and swings the door open before stepping inside. You look at the open door and sigh, okay, yeah it was a pretty low blow. 

You pull yourself up into the truck as Eddie sits down in his seat, going over his checklist. 

“Uh… hey” you stuff your hands in your back pockets 

“Hey” 

He doesn’t look up, barely even acknowledging you at all. He just keeps looking at his stupid list. 

“Can- um. Can we talk?” 

“Go ahead” He shrugs and you take the clipboard from his hands 

“I’m being serious Eddie!” 

He yanks it back from you, standing up. He towers over you, especially in this tiny ass space. 

“Don’t touch my shit” 

“It’s a clipboard!” You slam it against his chest and he stumbles back a little 

“It’s my clipboard so don’t fucking touch it!” 

“You know what- fuck this! I’m here trying to apologize to your bitchass and you can’t-“

“You’re what?” He stops arguing and looks at you, blinking slowly 

“I’m trying to apologize” You draw the words out and he holds the clipboard in both hands in front of him, looking down 

“Why?” 

You flinch a little because his tone is different now. It’s deeper, smoother maybe? There’s just this weird bass to it you’ve never really noticed before 

“Uh-“ you start, looking down at your hands “Well. It’s just-“ you fold them in front of you and take a deep breath before looking him in the eye. 

“The comment I made? About the whole girlfriend thing? That was low. I know how much that hurt you, the breakup- and like. That was so mean and-“

“I accept your apology,” He says quietly, a little smile on his face “I know how hard this is for you” 

You roll your eyes and push at his chest “Anddd you ruined it” he laughs and holds onto your hand and you gulp, blushing a little. Your fingers flex in his hand, feeling the hard chest underneath them and he looks at you, tightening the hold on your hand. 

“Do you have a ride to dinner? With the team? I uh- I know your cars in the shop. I’d like to offer a ride as an apology” 

This is the first time in your life Eddie Diaz has ever made you swoon. He bends down a little closer to your height, his cologne swirling in the closed air around you is starting to make you kinda dizzy. 

Dizzy??? Over Edmundo “The biggest fucking asshole” Diaz 

“I guess I accept your apology too…” you mumble, suddenly realizing just how close you’re both standing. You take a little step back, pulling your hand away. 

“Thanks. Six thirty work for you?” You clear your throat and go to leave the truck now, is it hot in here?? Why is it so freaking hot the AC is always blasting 

“Six thirty is fine,” He says as you hop out and turn back to him 

“Okay… uh- see ya??” You awkwardly salute him with two fingers and cringe inwardly as he snorts and does it back 

LaRue is a fancy-ass restaurant which is how you know Bobby and Athena definitely have something to announce and you’re hoping it’s good, this is more of a celebratory kind of place so you’re sure it is.

That just really leaves you with figuring out what to wear. 

You take your time in the shower, lathering yourself with your best soaps and making sure to avoid getting your hair wet. Once you’re out you put on your Spotify and start getting ready, laying out all your tools on the counter and lining up your hair products.

You’re just finishing straightening your hair and dramatically singing “Man! I feel like a woman!” (Buck's favorite song) when your doorbell rings. You click your phone to see it’s only 5:30, so it can’t be Eddie?? 

“What the-“ You unplug your straightener and bring it with you, a hot, blunt, instrument!! Perfect! And pad out to the front door, trying not to smudge your toenails. 

“Who is it?” You call through the door, raising your straightener 

“It’s me, Y/N” Eddie calls through the door and you blink blankly at the door 

“Why are you here??” You swing the door open and Eddie looks at your straightener, and then at you, standing in a silky red robe. His eyes roll over your figure as he bites his up, he’s shamelessly checking you out and you feel your body flush with a weird, needy, kind of heat. 

“Hello? Earth to Señor Pervert? You’re early. Like really early” You wave the straightener in front of his face and he looks back up at your face. 

“My power went out, nothin I can really do about it. So I didn’t think you’d mind if I got ready here. Didn’t you get my text?” 

Your mind flashes back to the little “ting!” noise you cursed out in your shower for interrupting “Let’s hear it for the boy” 

“Ohhh….. that- that was you…” you say and Eddie nods along with you as you step aside and let him in 

“Well I’m kind of in the middle of getting ready” you gesture to yourself as you lead him to the bathroom “But if you don’t mind sharing the space, I'm pretty sure I’ve got all the products, and tools you’ll need” 

“I brought some stuff… but yeah thanks” He follows you, watching the way your hips sway as you enter the bathroom. He smirks at your layout and you scoot some of it over to make room for him.

“Cute” He nods to your mostly pink setup up and you flick his arm before plugging in your curler. 

“You’re such a hoe” You roll your eyes as it heats up and turn your music back on. He snickers and sets out his stuff before turning on his razor. 

“I swear to god you better clean that up when you’re done” You point with your wand before starting to curl. 

“I’m a damn gentleman, of course, I’m going to clean up” He glares, before going back to concentrating on his face and you stick your tongue out. 

Things are starting to feel weirdly domestic, like incredibly domestic. You’re both humming along to the music, he curls the back of your hair that you can’t reach (he’d done it for his cousins a billion times) and you help make sure his sideburns are even. 

He grabs your mousse and sprays a little in his hand and you giggle as he runs it through his hair. 

“Oh shut. up.” He gives you a look and you stop putting on your eyeshadow, looking up from the mirror in your hand 

“It’s funny!!“ you whine and he turns to you, his hair perfectly in place. He’s so close to you, his face inches from yours. 

“There is absolutely nothing funny about using-“ 

One little piece of hair falls against his forehead, and you both look at it. You roll your eyes and go to push it back, your fingers card slowly through his hair and he leans into your touch, his eyelashes fluttering a little as he sighs quietly. 

“Mousse” he finishes his sentence, staring into your eyes and it’s like the air has been sucked right out of your lungs. 

When did Eddie Diaz become this… gorgeous 

“You’re blushing” He raises an eyebrow and you blink stupidly at him 

“H-huh?” 

“I said” He whispers, you can feel his breath fanning across your face he’s so close “You’re blushing” 

“Of course I am” Your voice is so quiet, it shakes a little as you speak “I’m wearing blush” you explain. 

“Nuh huh” He taps the closed container on your counter “Didn’t put it on yet, haven’t even put on any highlighter” 

“You know a lot about makeup” 

“I have all female family members” 

“Oh” 

His eyes flick down at your lips, and then back at your pretty doe eyes like he’s asking something, something that’s really… really starting to freak you out. 

When the fuck did you develop a crush on this testosterone tower 

Your phone starts ringing and the spell is broken, you jump back and Eddie stands tall again, reaching over to turn off your alarm. His gaze lingers on it for a moment before turning back to you 

“Apparently you’re supposed to be putting on your dress right about now” 

“Well since you’re here I guess I have a little extra time” You shrug and snatch your mirror from the counter and go back to your makeup. He tosses his stuff back in his bag and leans against the doorway 

“I’m gonna change then? If that’s cool with you” 

“Yeah no that’s- so cool. Way cool, ultra cool” You stumble over your words and Eddie laughs, letting his head fall back as he leaves the bathroom and shuts the door. 

What the hell is going on?! If it wasn’t so perfect you’d pull at your hair and like bash your head into the mirror you don’t know it’s just weird okay. It’s just weird to be feeling these super weird things okay, especially the ache between your thighs. That you’re painfully ignoring. 

After putting on the finishing touches and setting your makeup you turn to the bag hanging from your bathroom door and unzip it. You’d gotten the floor-length champagne-colored dress for your cousin's wedding, and it was definitely fancy enough to wear here. The dress has two high slits going up to the top of your hips and you’re actually incredibly grateful this place has tablecloths. You fix the spaghetti straps and adjust the top to cover up the tape you’d used instead of wearing a bra. With everything in position, you spray your perfume and crack open the door. 

“Hey, can I come out? I need my shoes” 

“Yeah, I need help with my tie anyway if you can” He calls out and you shut off the lights, leaving the bathroom. 

Neither of you is prepared to see each other and that’s very apparent by the way you both freeze up, he’s never seen you look so… breathtaking. His eyes widen as he takes your dress in, those high slits making the front of his pants tighten. Which  just confirms everything he’d been thinking all afternoon since you’d apologized in the truck 

When the fuck did he develop a crush on the missing link 

“You-“ His voice falters a little “You look beautiful” 

You look down at your dress for a second and then back toward the bathroom “Uh- um. T-thanks? Thank you…. You um… you clean up pretty well too” You look at him again, his cheeks are as pink as your dress. You tiptoe over to your bed and grab your shoes, waving them. 

“Im gonna- I'm gonna put these on and like I can help with your tie in a second” 

“Let me help?” He rushes toward you, pushing you back gently onto the bed. He takes your shoes from you and gets on one knee, taking your leg in his hands. His hands run down your smooth calf and around your ankle before slipping your shoe onto your foot and tying it back up your leg in a pretty little bow. He marvels at the way your skin sparkles in the light of the sun coming in through your windows courtesy of the shimmering oil you’d put on. 

“Eddie I- I can do it my-“ 

You feel his lips on your other leg, kissing softly, slowly up your leg as he slips your shoe on, your breath hitches in your throat as he looks up at you, his hands creeping further up your leg and over your bare thigh. 

“What are you doing?” You bite your lip and he kisses your knee before placing his chin on it 

“Dunno, just couldn’t help myself” He admits, looking up at you like a lost puppy. You can feel your resolve melting as you lean forward and smooth his hair back. 

“You needed help with your tie?” 

You scoot forward off the bed and he moves back a bit, as you stand up. His hands go to your hips, holding you in front of him as he’s on his knees. 

“This feels weird,” you tell him and his grip loosens 

“Shit. Shit I’m sorry that was so forward I didn’t mean-“ He’s getting up and you push his shoulders back down because you like him on his knees 

“Wait no! That’s not what I meant!!” You put his hands back on your hips and tilt his chin up 

“Okay well, it’s sort of what I meant… I just- you’re really freaking hot” 

Eddie chuckles and brings you forward by your waist, resting his head on your torso 

“Yeah so are you. Who knew you’d be so pretty under all the death stares and bitchy comments” 

“Who knew you’d be so sexy under all the bad attitudes and general stupidity” You grin widely and allow him to stand up now, he gives you a look and puts his tie in your hand

“Oh teehee you’re so funny” He rolls his eyes and you giggle, putting the tie around his neck 

“You started it” 

“Mhm, and I bet you wanna end it huh?” He pulls you against him as you finish tying it and setting it straight. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty” He murmurs in your ear as you clasp your hands behind his neck and he leans forward, nuzzling his nose in your neck and toying with your necklace. 

“You really thi-“ Your sentence is cut off by your phone ringing again, you groan and try to let go of Eddie but he just holds your waist tighter grabs your phone for you, and holds it up to your ear.

“Hey Buck what’s up?” 

Your hand takes the phone and he wraps his arms back around you properly. Eddie is clingy apparently. Which doesn’t surprise you with his stupid “I’m not touching you” game 

“Uhhh yeah, I'm sure it’s fine. Okay, we’ll see you soon!” You hang up and Eddie takes the phone from you and slides it into his pocket 

“What does he want?” You feel him nibbling your ear and you giggle, pulling him closer for once 

“He needs a ride, solely because he’s lazy and doesn’t feel like driving tonight. He said it’s better for the environment.” 

“He just wants me to be the designated driver” He rolls his eyes, finally pulling away. His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, he hasn’t kissed you yet and it’s driving you slightly crazy. 

“I guess we have to go get him” He sighs, and takes your hand, pulling you with him out of your bedroom. The click of your heels as you follow behind is oddly erotic to him, he helps you put on your little coat and hands you your purse before opening the door for you. 

“Ladies first,” He says and you walk past him, floating on a cloud of your perfume. 

“Really? Because last time you said it was Lizard people first” You snicker as he opens the truck door for you and helps you in, you cross one leg over the other as he gets in on his side and goes to buckle up. His eyes are practically glued to your thighs and you smirk leaning against the center console with your chin in your hand. 

“See somethin' ya like?” 

Apparently yes, because the next thing you know his lips are pressed to yours. He kisses you slowly, you look so goddamn adorable when you’re blushing like this. He deepens the kiss a little, his tongue licking at your lower lip as he draws you closer to him, like he wants you in his lap and admittedly that seems like a very… very nice place to be 

He pulls away and chuckles when you chase him, pecking his lips again 

“Do we really have to go tonight?” You mumble and he boops your nose 

“Yeah kinda. You want everyone to know we stayed at your place? What would they think of us?” 

You look at him, crinkling your nose “Yeah I guess… and there’s no way we’re telling anyone about this right?”

“Oh fuck no. They’d never let us live it down.” He pulls out of the driveway and holds his hand out to you 

“Which admittedly brings us to that very awkward “what are we?” Thing” 

You take his hand and hold it in your lap, tracing the back of it and drawing little shapes 

“Well- and just listen. Would it be so much of a leap… to be like I don’t know…boyfriend girlfriend? It’s not like we don’t know each other… disgustingly well already”

“24-hour shifts man” Eddie sighs and you snicker, leaning your head against his shoulder 

“Literally. Like that one time, I walked in on you taking a colossal-“

“If you finish that sentence I swear to god I will hit the ejection seat button” 

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you really had one though like”

“Do you want to find out?” 

You roll your eyes but keep quiet anyway and he chuckles, holding your hand tighter.

“So we’re just gonna jump to being together huh? Not even gonna take me to dinner first?” 

You snort and lay your head against the headrest, looking over at him 

“You want me to take you on a date Princess?” You tease and he raises his eyebrow at you for a moment before looking back at the road 

“Damn right, I do. Want the whole enchilada baby girl. Including drinks at your place afterward” 

“So your tipsy ass will have to sleep over?” You laugh and he grins 

“Hell yeah! Better put me in one of your T-shirts too” 

“Fucking bet my man, I will woo your ass” You poke his arm as he pulls up to Buck's place and texts him to come down 

“Saturday?” 

“Saturday” you agree with a wink. 

Before Buck comes down to the car Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, pulling you in to kiss you again. He smiles a little, pecking your lips softly again when you giggle. 

“I can’t wait… but I hope you know teasing you is about to be a whole lot different” He makes his point as he trails his fingertips over your shoulder and down your arm sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean” You whisper against his lips and he smirks, moving his hand to your exposed thigh now, squeezing gently. 

“Oh you’re gonna find out tonight sweetheart” 

He pulls away just in time for Buck to come out, he gives you two a weird look, you’re in the front seat and not killing each other. 

“Hey thanks for getting me,” Buck says as he closes the door and buckles in behind you. 

“You owe me” 

“Why doesn’t she owe you!” Buck points at you childishly and Eddie smirks 

“I don’t take payment from sewer rats. She’s suffering enough” 

Your mouth drops open and you punch his arm “Sewer rat?! I look like a damn goddess right now!”

“Goddess of sewer rats maybe” he mumbles and you reach over and shut the truck off and throw the key at his feet so he’d have to get out to reach it. 

“Ahhh…There’s my best friends” Buck laughs as Eddie throws his door open, grumbling and you two go back to normal. 

Once you get to the restaurant, Buck opens the door for you and helps you out, letting out a low whistle. 

“Jesus Y/N, you tryin’ to make me fall in love?” He laughs as you do a little spin for him and toss your hair over your shoulder 

“What this old thing?” You joke as he holds out his arm, Eddie gives you a look as you take it and you feel goosebumps trail up your arms at the way his eyes darken possessively. You swear to god you’re gonna jump that man before the night is over. 

The man at the front leads you three over to the table, and you seem to be the last ones to arrive. You wave at them and do another cute little spin as they ooh and aww at you. 

“Yassss Queen!” Chimney says, high-fiving you while Eddie pulls your chair out (Athena does not miss that) and you sit down in it. You look up at him for a split second (Bobby doesn’t miss that) and he sits down next to you as Buck sits on the other side. 

“Doesn’t she look amazing!” He practically fawns over you and you giggle

“Maybe you’ll be my plus one” he winks and suddenly you feel Eddie’s hand on your knee 

“Y-yeah!” You laugh nervously, “Maybe!” 

Everyone is laughing and talking but you’re way too distracted, taking a sip of your wine as you feel his hand softly rubbing your thigh, his fingers creeping higher and higher, feeling the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

You don’t even know how he’s doing it, keeping a straight face while laughing at something Hen said and dragging his fingers lazy on the inside of your thighs. You feel his fingers brush over your panties and you jolt a little, glancing at him for a second before going back over to whatever story Maddie is telling everyone. 

He just keeps teasing you, gently brushing his fingers over them. You can see the little smirk he has from the corner of your eye and you wish you could just slap it off. It’s not until the waiter comes to take all of your orders that you feel his fingers sink inside you, the second the man gets to you, holding his pen and paper with a polite smile on his face while Eddie pumps his long fingers in and out slowly. 

“Miss?” He asks again, and Buck nudges your shoulder. 

“Hurry up before I forget mine” he snickers and your mouth gapes open, still nothing coming out. 

“I- uh- I’ll-“ 

“Like you’re not going to be a basic bitch and order your chicken Alfredo” Eddie pinches your clit and you snap your mouth shut to keep from moaning right there. 

“No calling people basic bitches at the dinner table Eddie” Bobby scolds him and Buck snorts before slapping his hand over his mouth. 

“Sorry,” He says in a singsong voice and makes a little face and the waiter moves onto Buck now. 

“I’m surprised you’re not ripping him apart right now” Hen chuckles and Eddie speeds up, his fingers working your clit faster as they all start talking again, you start to squirm against him some, gripping the edge of the table. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Buck leans over, whispering quietly, draping his arm over the back of your chair. Eddie’s fingers freeze for a second and you nod slowly. 

“I-I’m great, just- just peachy!” 

“Are you sure?” He looks so worried, his hand starts gently rubbing your arm and Eddie starts his assault again, his fingers dipping deeper inside you again and moving against that spongy spot in fast little strokes. You squeeze your thighs together, moving your hips subtly. You turn your head to look at Eddie and he looks down at you, and then over at Buck. 

He wants you to tell him. 

“I-I’m- it’s just-“ Your voice is so quiet, your words shaky and weak 

“You wanna go get some fresh air?” He scoots his chair back and goes to move yours but you put your hands on his arm, gripping it tightly as your orgasm washes over you, your eyes shut tight as Eddie works your clit faster, and you have no freaking clue how no one else can tell what’s going on 

Well… no one except Buck. Who’s mouth drops wide open as he realizes what’s happening to you right now, even if he’s not sure how it’s happening 

Eddie eases his hand from your soaked folds and wipes it on your inner thigh before putting his hands back in his lap like nothing happened. He grins at you widely as Buck helps you up

“Everything okay?” Bobby asks, sipping his wine and all attention is now on you as you hold onto Buck's arms, your legs a little wobbly 

“Yeah, everything okay?” Eddie has the biggest shit-eating grin and you glare at him 

“We’re just gonna get some fresh air” Buck holds you to him “I think she just had a little too much to drink”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re a lightweight?” Eddie says over his glass and your mouth drops open 

“You little-“

“Come on” Buck rolls his eyes as he pulls you outside with him. He helps you over to a pretty white bench and you both sit down. 

“So…. What the fuck” Buck turns to you and you let your head fall back, pinching the bridge of your nose 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

“Fuck no” 

“That’s what I thought” You look at him and he whines, running his hands over his face. 

“Okay. Okay this one yeah, I promise I can do this” 

“Eddie was fingering me under the table we just got together this evening before we came and got you and I want to rip his hair out” 

You say it as fast as you can, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you shake him slowly. It doesn’t matter though because he’s literally not even moving, he’s completely short-circuiting as he stares into the distance 

“Buck? Earth to Buck” You wave your hand in front of him and he blinks slowly 

“Do you mean to tell me-“ Buck speaks slowly “You and Eddie are finally fucking dating”

“You can’t tell anyone!!” You say putting your hands over his mouth “Eddie is the bane of my fucking existence!!! No one would ever let us live it down!!” 

“Firemgodldckingreson!!!!” Buck yells into your hands and you tilt your head 

“Huh?”

He shoves your hands away and throws his in the air “I said For good fucking reason!!! You two are crazy! You guys have never liked each other ever! Eddie literally came to me like three weeks ago losing his mind over the fact he had a big ass crush on you and-“ 

“He did what?!” You get up from the bench and Buck slaps his hands over his mouth 

“Nothing!! He did nothing it’s nothing! I don’t know what I’m talking about!!!” 

You push past him and go right back into the restaurant. Buck is hot on your heels begging you to not say anything and he totally said it wrong but you’re not listening. 

You get back to the table and everyone stops talking to look at you 

“You’ve liked me for three weeks?!” 

Eddie drops his fork on his plate and groans “Buck!!”

“She cornered me!!!” He whines and you whirl around on him 

“I did not!!” 

“Can you three maybe take this outside??” Athena hisses and Hen puts her hand on her arm 

“No no. Let them cook” 

Eddie stands up now and Buck sits down fast, hiding behind his napkin and trying to avoid being murdered by his best friends. 

“No. I have not liked you for three weeks” He says, taking your hands 

“Oh shit” Chimney whispers and Maddie slaps his arm 

“I’ve liked you for longer than that” 

The entire restaurant literally gasps, which is an exaggeration. Because Steven, the host was in the bathroom. 

“Y-you’ve what?!” You splutter and Eddie runs his hands over his face 

“I’ve liked you for a long fucking time Y/N. And whilst I wasn’t going to tell you tonight-“ he glares at Buck “I- I know I’ve been no better than a schoolboy tugging on your braids-“

“Neither has she” Bobby mutters and Athena glares at him 

“But like. Shit, I really do like you okay? And I- I don’t mind” his voice lowers “I don’t… mind telling them about-“ he takes your hand again, stepping closer 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You mumble and he shrugs 

“I thought you hated me” 

“You wanna tell him or should we?” Athena gestures between her and Hen and you let your head smack against Eddie’s chest 

“IrrealjylIkwdypauto”

“Gonna have to speak up sweetheart” Eddie snickers, tilting your head up with his fingers. 

“I really liked you too and I don’t mind telling everyone we’re dating,” you say clearly, whispering it to him. 

“Hey! Hey propose for a free dessert” Buck hisses, shoving a ring into Eddie’s hand.

“I’m not gonna-“

“They have chocolate lava cake”

Eddie gets on one knee, kissing your hand and you nearly crumble to the floor laughing. 

“Y/N Alicia Maria Vanessa Nash. Will you make me the luckiest man in the world and be my wife?” 

The entire restaurant holds their breath… and this time it really is! Steven is back!

“I-“ You sniffle, making yourself cry and shake your head fast “Yes!!! Oh god, Eddie yes!!!” 

He stands up and scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around and kissing you and everyone claps for you as you sit back down. 

“I get half the cake right”

“Oh definitely” 

“You watch that ring with your life” Athena points at you and you wiggle your fingers. 

“Will do boss” You grin as Eddie holds a forkful of lava cake to your mouth

[fruitcoops]

Clean Slate

Ah, the passage of time. If anyone has been here since the first phone call, you may be entitled to financial compensation (or an AARP membership). Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Reg?”

On the first ring, as always. “Hey.”

“…hi?”

“I was thinking about going back to Gryff for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Surprise, but pleasant surprise. Regulus shook his pan of sausage. “Yeah, sounds good. You always have a room here. Or were you staying with the cubs?”

“With you.” He stretched his neck from side-to-side. Tension bled out of his forehead and shoulders at the familiar roll of French on his tongue. “If that’s okay.”

“Always,” Sirius answered immediately, almost hasty. Regulus wasn’t sure they’d ever get past that. Ah, well. The damage was done.

The line remained quiet for a moment. Sausage sizzled, and he turned to the pile of green beans on the cutting board. Leo had taught him how to snap the ends off with his fingernails, and though he was better now about not chewing them to the quick, he still didn’t like the feeling of stuff stuck beneath them. Regulus had really only called to clarify plans.

“How—how are your friends?”

“Good.” Sirius liked to talk, even if he wasn’t very good at it. “Jax and Kris set up the living room last night.”

“Do they still have that stupid poster?”

Regulus snorted under his breath and carefully sliced the tip off another bean. “They tried to hang it in the window.”

Sirius groaned.

Regulus grinned. He supposed he could have a little mercy. “Don’t worry, it’s under my bed.”

“Somehow, that’s worse.”

“I can’t get rid of it. It’s their favorite possession. They have a thing for your long hair and the murder face. Jax is still waiting for the day you spontaneously get divorced and need a hot young college student to rebound.”

He wasn’t sure whether the gagging sound Sirius made was real or exaggerated. As long as he was in mild torment, Regulus was happy. A simple, ever-amusing perk of long-distance communication.

“I hope your classmates are less in tune with pop culture.”

“Hockey, yes. Pop culture, no.” Regulus eyed the pan, then added another knob of butter to be safe. There was nothing worse than a burnt vegetable. “And my classes are going well, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter that Sirius couldn’t see it; the message would certainly get through.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You always make faces.”

Regulus stuck his tongue out at the microwave above the stove.

“I can feel you doing it again.”

“That was a different one. I’m taking physics 3 this year and it’s making me want to eat a doorknob already.”

“You’re anemic enough that it would probably help.”

“I take my supplements!” Regulus argued, shaking his pan. “Not my fault we were force-fed protein in fucking sun-less Canada.”

“We had sun, you just never went outside,” Sirius countered, like it was some sort of argument. “I don’t have to take supplements.”

“Well, you’re perfect and bulletproof, as everyone knows.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus angled his face at the dark phone screen when he pulled a face this time. It was a good one. Pity that Sirius couldn’t see it. He should’ve gone for FaceTime.

“Are you starting a fire?”

“I’m making dinner.”

“So…yes?”

“Not all of us have a home cook.”

“I can cook now.”

“Oh, you’ve been housebroken.” Regulus blew out a mouthful of steam as he tested a piece of sausage. “How thrilling for Lupin.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one. I learned that last week.”

He could feel Sirius shaking his head. “Knutty is formally banned from teaching you new slang.”

“You’ve never said ‘no’ to him in his entire career.” Regulus let the line hang silent for another half-minute as he turned the burner off and began scraping his dinner into a bowl. It still bore a faint orange tinge from last year’s finals-week spaghetti run. He fished a piece of pasta out of the water and popped it in his mouth, grimacing at the heat on his tongue. It was cooked well enough—at least, he was hungry enough to forgive a more al dente texture.

“By the way,” he started, as if his stomach wasn’t stuttering. “I think I’ll be back in time for family skate.”

The shuffling sounds on Sirius’ end came to an abrupt halt. “That’s nice,” came the faux-casual answer.

Anxiety made a valiant effort to claw up and silence his tongue. “I was thinking about going.”

“Well,” Sirius began, then paused. Regulus swallowed a few times to clear the block in his throat while Sirius pondered. “I—yeah, sounds good.”

“I want to.”

“Good.” Sirius’ relief was audible. “Okay, good. You can change your mind.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” Regulus ordered as he toed his slippers on and made his way to the apartment’s tiny coffee table. They’d get chairs at some point, but for now three pillows sat on the floor beside it.

“I’m never weird.”

“Boo, liar.”

“Freak.”

“I’m telling Lupin.”

“Do it. He likes me better. I can cook.”

“I’m—” Regulus caught himself at the last second and felt Sirius’ breath hitch on the other end of the line in anticipation. “—not joking, I actually want to go and play stupid ice fetch with your irritating friends, and nobody is making me feel pressured.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t sound so…” He wrinkled his nose and stuffed a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Smiley.”

“It’ll be good to have you home.”

“If you’re weird, I’m staying with Leo,” Regulus threatened. “For real, this time.”

“Right, because you love being around people who are engaged and anywhere near a holiday, or mistletoe, or the magic of Christmas—”

His loud groan silenced Sirius’ words, but not his laughter. “Get your laughs in now, before I whoop your ass on the ice.”

“Would love to see you try.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“Everyone else is going to underestimate you. I won’t be nice like that.”

“You’re never nice,” Regulus lied.

Sirius let him eat in peace until he was scraping the last bits of cheese from the bottom of the bowl. He heard the faint beeping of the dishwasher buttons in the background and glanced at his own sink, nearly overflowing with haphazard dishes from the first chaotic weeks of their senior year. The apartment was a pleasant change from living on campus, such as it was. Jax and Kris had offered to pay rent—tried to strongarm him, really—but a few withering looks had finally made them relent. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was his. Theirs.

The string lights lining the ceiling weren’t strictly allowed, but Regulus liked their gentle blue cast. The blanket Remus and Sirius had sent as a housewarming gift sat cozily on the back of their couch. Curtains from Jax’s mother let in just the right amount of light in the mornings.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

The sound of Sirius’ voice in his earbuds startled him. “Yeah,” Regulus said. “Yeah, sure.”

“Even for laundry.” Sirius tried for wry, and it made Regulus crack a small smile, but it was gentler than either of them intended. “Don’t shrink your clothes. Check the tags.”

Always do, he thought, but kept it down. “Good advice. No centipedes here, yet.”

Sirius’ laugh was a little weak. “You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Eugh, don’t say that.” Regulus blinked fast, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “Hey, this washer even has a ‘normal’ setting, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, wow. Lucky you.”

Picking up the phone on the first ring, always. For four years straight. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“We can come up in October, if you want.”

Of course Sirius had the academic calendar on-hand. “I’ll be gone that weekend with the guys. We didn’t want to be around all the new parents. They’re very damp.”

“And you melt when water touches you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Sirius let out a quiet breath. “See you at Christmas, Reg. Call me when you have flights.”

“Mhm.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do here,” he corrected.

“Fine.”

“Miss you.” The streetlights down the road were just starting to come on. “Say hi to Lupin for me.”

“He’s in the other room,” Sirius offered. “You can say it yourself.”

“I’ll talk to you both enough at Christmas.”

“Call any time. And let us know when you hear back about graduation tickets.”

What a terrifying thought to leave for the end of the call. “I’ll forward it to you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Okay. Bye.” And before he could second-guess himself—“I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Sirius answered. Regulus heard the truth under it. “And do your laundry.”

[rileyslibrary]

Taking initiative.

Synopsis: While the rest of the team sees it as just another get-together at the local pub, this particular night is important to you; tonight, you will confess your feelings to Simon.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,511

Notes:

I’ve wanted to write this for a long time but couldn’t find the strength.

Warning: This is not what you think it is. It’s pure angst/hurt, guaranteed to break your heart into a thousand pieces. Proceed with caution. (And no, no one is dying; calm down, jeez.)

———————————————————————

Your right hand is resting on your hip. The other is gently stroking your chin, taking care not to ruin your subtle makeup. You look at your wardrobe with a mixture of confusion and worry. It’s an oxymoron to have so many clothes but nothing to wear. Or, to put it another way, nothing to wear for the occasion.

This is the night. You’re about to do something you’ve never done before. You will attempt to flirt with Simon for the first time in two years. You can say it however you want: test the waters, confess your attraction, show him you care. Regardless of how much you teased your other teammates, it was something you’d never done before with him. Which brings up another oxymoron unrelated to fashion: why were you always so open with Gaz, Soap, and Price—the ones you only saw as friends—but so closed off with Simon, the one you actually wanted to attract?

You unhook a short, silky black dress with thin spaghetti straps. It will look great with your high-heeled sandals. You tilt your head at the dress and shake your head. No, it’s too sexy. Also, the weather forecast predicted rain for tonight.

You put it back in the closet and take out another dress, this one red, long and with a plunging neckline. You scoff; you’re going to the pub, not a gala dinner. It might be better to go with something a little more... inconspicuous.

Your phone dings. Soap just send a text to the group chat.

“Where the hell are you guys? I’m all alone.”

Then another ding. It’s Soap again.

“Never mind, Price just arrived.”

You put down your phone and return your attention to your wardrobe. You don’t want to be the last one to arrive again. You’d better make a decision soon.

So you choose something that makes you feel good rather than something that portrays you in a different light: a pair of light blue jeans and a cute green blouse. You wear it with your beige mid-heeled boots, grab a small clutch bag, and head to the bar.

You text Soap, telling him you’re on your way to the pub and he replies with a thumbs-up emoji. He must be pissed.

Walking towards the pub, it begins to rain, and you curse the clutch bag in your hands; choosing a purse that could only fit your ID and some cash while knowing it would rain was a foolish decision.

You quicken your pace as you notice the pub’s entrance. You open the door and take cover in the warmth of the room. It’s crowded, but you don’t mind; the more, the merrier, you think, especially with what you’re about to do.

You hear someone whistling and turn to see Soap’s hand waving at you. Price and Gaz are also here. Simon has yet to arrive, and you suspect he is stuck in traffic, especially if he chose to ride the bus instead of his motorbike due to the rain.

“You’re drenched.” Soap says as he examines you from head to toe.

You open your arms so he can admire your current condition. “Oh no, can you tell?” You mock him and excuse yourself to go the loo to ‘get yourself together’. A vague statement with multiple meanings—to them, you were going to dry yourself up. To you, ‘getting yourself together’ was mentally preparing for tonight.

“You’ve got this,” you tell yourself as you look in the mirror, “you can do it.” You take some paper towels from the dispenser and pat yourself while whispering encouraging words.

But then the restroom door opens, and you immediately stop the pep talk. You turn to face another woman who is in worse shape than you. You smile, and she smiles back, acknowledging each other’s presence. You take a few more paper towels from the dispenser and hand them to her. She chuckles and thanks you before taking your offer.

“At least it didn’t get my hair.” She comments, and you smile at her. At least you didn’t hear me talking to myself, you think and exit the restroom to make your way to your table.

You notice him from across the room, sitting with the rest of the team. You’ve seen him without his mask before. He repeatedly trusted you with his identity. He’s shown you numerous times how much he’s willing to risk for you and the rest of the team. How can you be so afraid? Perhaps he feels the same way. “You just have to take the initiative,” he’d tell you on missions, “don’t wait for them to strike first.” What if this was an indirect way of telling you that he wants you to take more initiative regarding the two of you?

As you get closer to the table, you perk up and decide to sit in the chair next to him; you’ll be able to “strike” more effectively this way.

He notices you and shoots you a slight smile that sets your insides on fire.

“Hello ther-” you start to greet him but stop when you see the chair you’re about to sit in.

A motorbike helmet is on—an extra one from the one Simon holds in front of him.

“At least it didn’t get my hair,” you reflect on your conversation with the girl in the washroom, and your heart sinks. You raise your head and notice her approaching your table. This is her helmet; she didn’t get her hair wet because of it. Simon gave her this helmet so she could hug him from behind while riding on the back of his motorbike. To protect her and bring her here to meet the rest of you.

“Y/N,” Simon says, looking up at the woman beside his chair, “this is Daphne.”

“We met at the loo, but didn’t properly introduce ourselves,” she explains, extending her hand to you.

Neither should we, you think and stare at her hand like a landmine, ready to detonate at any moment.

Pools begin to form in your eyes, and a lump seeks refuge in your throat. But you muster the courage to take her hand in yours. You squeeze it, perhaps a little too hard, and smile at “Daphne” with all that’s left of you.

“I-I’ll go get me a drink,” you say shakily and dash to the bar.

You stare blankly at the counter and rest your forearms on it to keep yourself from collapsing. You try to control your breathing while fighting the tears. Fight back. Fight them off. You’ve fought tougher enemies before; now fight the tears.

A finger taps the space between your forearms; It’s the bartender asking for your order.

You raise your head to meet her gaze, and her warm smile gives place to an empathetic frown. She’s seen that look before. She’s seen many people in your shoes—sad, pained, hurt.

“What can I do for you, love?” she asks quietly.

Your eyes well up with tears, and you shake your head.

“I need to go,” you say, and she nods as if giving you permission.

You race to the door, taking a quick glimpse at your table before leaving. Soap is on the phone with whoever he decided to booty call this time. Price looks at Gaz, who is still babbling about something, and Daphne is speaking to Simon.

But Simon ignores her. Two dark brown eyes have been following you the entire time, just as they do when you’re on a mission together, waiting for you to look back at them.

He says something to her and stands up, but you open the dorr as soon as you see him approaching.

It’s pouring outside, but you don’t care anymore. You unlock your phone and send a text message to Soap.

“Something urgent came up; I’ll catch up with you later.”

Lies. Straight-up lies.

You quicken your pace and don’t dare to look back. You don’t want him following you; you want to get lost.

But who are you trying to fool? You are the one who lost him.

Your tears blend with the rain, and you reflect on his words. “You just have to take the initiative; don’t wait for them to strike up first.” Well, Daphne has beaten you to it and struck first.

You hug yourself and feel the green blouse you so carefully chose for tonight. Green; the colour of new beginnings and the colour of envy. Another oxymoron.

You picked a good colour for tonight.

———————————————————————

A/N: To those asking if I plan on making a part 2, here’s the answer!

[literary-motif]

hi vic, first off, just wanted to say, love your works! <3

i'd like to request an nsfw fic when isaac finds pickle in his clothes and he gets all possessive (he prob has a lwk marking kink)

Mine (NSFW)

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Absolutely agree. Also, pardon that I got around to writing this nearly four whole months after you had requested it.

The downside to wearing shirts was having to iron them. It was an aggravating inconvenience that made Isaac consider switching his wardrobe to iron-free clothes every time he retrieved the steam iron from its place in the closet. In the end, although he hated setting up everything and waiting an eternity before the iron cooled down enough to store it away again, part of him appreciated the mindlessness of the task. It allowed his thoughts to wander, and more often than not, it gave him the necessary peace of mind to look at his cases from another perspective and deliver the missing piece that made it all fall into place. 

His extensive collection of dress shirts consisted of nearly every color. The mountain of white shirts was a clear indication of his preference, however. He had worn one of his black blazers to a meeting with Asirel, and Isaac frowned as he looked around the laundry room. He could not find the dark red shirt he had put on to go with it. 

“Pickle,” he called, stepping into the entrance hall and calling up the stairs. You were in the bedroom, he knew. 

Both of you had just gotten back from a tiring meeting, and while Isaac had looked forward to putting his thoughts in order while ironing shirts, you had wasted no time in taking a relaxing shower. 

He knocked, waiting for your muffled reply to enter before pushing open the door to the bedroom. “Hey, have you seen my—?” Isaac froze in the doorway. His eyes widened when he saw you, clad in one of his white shirts with a black tie and matching suit jacket. You had even helped yourself to a pair of his dress pants, neatly tucking his shirt away.

You were fastening his belt when he entered, a smirk on your face as a few strands of wet hair hung in your face. You raised your gaze to look at him through the mirror. 

You put on a serious expression. “Pickle,” you said, imitating his tone of voice, “the spaghetti is overcooked.” You turned around to face him properly, making a show of fixing your collar and tie. “I think it is time I do the cooking while you crack all the cases and— mhgmp.”

He cut you off with a kiss, crashing his lips against yours with a burning passion you had rarely felt coming from him. His arms encircled you, pulling you into his chest as he deepened the kiss, stealing your breath. 

“A double Windsor even, I’m impressed,” he praised when you broke apart panting, glancing at his tie around your neck. His pupils dilated, taking in your appearance again. Isaac licked his lips, his mouth watering at the sight of you. 

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand his sudden reaction to seeing you in his clothes. “Do you think it suits me?” you asked teasingly, growing self-conscious under his intense gaze. 

It had been a silly little thing, and you were not even sure what possessed you to rummage through his side of the closet, lest of all put on his clothes. You had thought about making him laugh, stepping down the stairs with your best imitation of the long yawn he let out each morning before leaning casually against the wall of the laundry room and letting compliments tumble from your lips like he usually did when he observed you working. 

The hunger in his gaze made you realize that you had imagined him to have the wrong reaction. Instead of the laughter you expected, Isaac looked famished, ready to devour you whole.

“You’re stunning in everything,” he said genuinely, his voice a little raspy. “But having you in my clothes suits you more than anything.”

You gaze a low chuckle, leaning into his hand as he buried it in your hair, tugging slightly to tilt your head to the side. His mouth was on your neck in an instant, pressing slow kisses against the sensitive skin there. “Do you like me in a suit and tie?” you asked breathily, your eyelids fluttering shut to savor the feeling of his lips on you.

“I love you in everything,” he murmured, one hand traveling downwards to rest against the swell of your back. His warm breath fanned across your neck, making you shiver as he leaned closer to your ear, “What’s special about the way you’re dressed right now is that it shows that you are mine.”

Your grip on him tightened. His lips found your neck again, his gentle kisses turning more intense as he pulled you closer to him. You could feel his bulge straining against his dress pants. “I don’t think I need clothes for that,” you said, grinding your hips against him. 

He groaned. “I’ll make sure you don’t,” he rasped, latching his lips to the sensitive spot under your ear and sucking on it gently. You squirmed in his arms, gasping at the sensation. “I want everyone to know that you are mine. Mine,” he said, grazing his teeth against your skin and making you shiver. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. You felt him lean into your touch, chasing the feeling of your hand on him as you tilted his head upwards, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

The gesture made him smile, a softness blossoming in his heart at your sweetness despite the passion cursing through him. If he could give you the world, he would drag it through the front door and lay it at your feet. The love he felt for you was so all-consuming that it clouded his mind sometimes, your eyes, your smile, your touch intoxicating him enough to lower all of his defenses and surrender himself to the feeling of having you around him — of having you love him and loving you in return.

You let out a soft sigh as your back hit the bed, shifting to get comfortable as Isaac unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off before joining you. His knees were on the mattress on either side, straddling you as he let his gaze linger on your figure beneath him. 

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, loosening your tie before your hands slipped up his bare chest. The many hours you spent ogling him as he swam in the pool or toiled on the treadmill came to mind as you looked at his physique. If he turned your knees weak, then seeing his muscles flex and imagining those strong arms holding you close, the picture you had of him now made it impossible to tear your gaze away. “I confess, I quite like mine.”

He chuckled, fingers already working to undo the lower buttons of your shirt. “I’m not sure, actually,” he said, feigning a contemplative tone as he tugged your shirt free, exposing your stomach to him. “I don’t know if I like this better or if I want you bare. It would be a shame to ruin all the work you put into assembling this outfit. How long did the knot take? Five minutes?”

“Two, actually,” you said, a little annoyed that he was right and you had to look up how to tie the double Windsor. 

His hands worked to open your belt, hesitating as he unbuckled it to look into your eyes. Isaac might have been teasing before, but his expression was serious now. He gazed at you, moving to no longer straddle you, as his expression silently asked for permission to take things further. 

You moaned at the tent in his pants, the thought that he was already so painfully hard from kissing and finding you in his clothes making you lift your hips to aid his endeavors. “Go ahead,” you breathed, the need for him getting harder to control with every second. 

Isaac wasted no time, pulling his dress pants off of you in one swift movement alongside your underwear. “There you are,” he murmured, drinking in the sight before him. You clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle a whine, spreading your legs under his gaze. He smiled, reaching out to caress your hips before letting his hands trail lower. 

“Don’t tease me,” you pleaded, sinking into the mattress as he caressed the inside of your thighs, brushing his thumbs over the dip and getting frustratingly close to where you needed his touch the most. 

“My Love, you have been teasing me,” he said, lowering his head and placing a lingering kiss against your flank before moving downward to your abdomen. “What do you think finding you in my clothes does to me?” His lips met the sensitive skin just above your hip bone, making you gasp. 

Isaac halted. You felt him smirk against your skin. 

“Isaac— ah—” you groaned, hands fisting the sheets beside you as he sucked on the sensitive spot. Your body tensed, and you fought the urge to squirm under his touch as he left a hickey where you were sure to feel it for days to come.

Once he was satisfied, his hands settled on your thighs, prying them apart further. He held onto them tightly as he kissed his way down to your pelvis, occasionally stopping at a spot that made you squirm to latch his lips onto it and leave you a whining mess as he littered your skin with marks. 

“Mine,” he murmured, glancing up to look at your blissful expression — your beautifully parted lips, breathing the sounds that made him lose his senses and your eyes, squeezed shut to savor the feeling of him pulling you apart — and he realized that you had not been marked enough. 

You were his to cherish, his to love. There was not a single instance in which he doubted your complete devotion to him — as there was none in which you had doubted his. The knowledge that he had you, that you were his as he was yours, made a feeling so searingly possessive rise in his chest, it came to a head when he saw you dressed up in his clothes. 

“Isaac, please,” you whined, raising your hips to search for friction that he had so wickedly denied to you. “I want you, please.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips, and as he rose again to look at the work he had left on your skin, he found the sight nearly overwhelming. It made him pant, knowing he had marked you up, seeing how the evidence of your love stayed on your skin. 

He shrugged off his pants, discarding the underwear that had been stained with a large wet spot to free his leaking cock. You cracked your eyes open, mouth watering at the sight before you. 

You opened your arms, wrapping them around his neck as he leaned forward, bracing himself against the mattress to be chest-to-chest with you. Having you close while he sunk his cock into you was his favorite part, feeling you clench around him, pulling his hair as you got closer until he would feel your whole body tense and shudder as he finally made you come. Nothing could compare to the intimacy of gazing at you, seeing your face scrunched in ecstasy as your eyes rolled back while he made you feel good. 

“I— I— ah—” you panted, feeling like you would dissolve into the mattress if Isaac loosened his hold on you. His hips worked at a vicious pace, burying his cock into you again and again until you felt your toes curl, your hand in his hair tightening. 

He buried his face in your neck, breaking your kiss to suck a final bruise on your skin as his hips continued thrusting and you clenching around him made him tumble over the edge as well. 

When he lay next to you exhausted, listening to your quick breathing and the fond chuckle you let out as you turned your head to kiss him, he could not help but let his eyes linger on the marks he had left on you. The heaviness he felt in his bones vanished in an instant.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. His hands reached out, expertly untying the double Windsor and unbuttoning the upper part of his shirt on you before helping you slip out of it. 

“It burns a little,” you admitted tiredly, sighing in contentment as your back hit the soft pillows again. “It’s not too bad, though. I feel a little sore, but it was worth it. I liked that, Isaac.”

He smiled at you, appreciating your effort to lessen the guilt tugging at his heart. “I’ll fetch something for the bruises,” he said, placing a kiss against your forehead. 

You wrapped your arms around him, making him fall against your chest. “Wait,” you said, not giving him much of a choice as you trapped him in your arms. “I would like to feel you close a moment longer.”

[mischiefandlies]

A lesson in culinary disasters...

Loki x Reader

Masterlist

Notes: Thor is the embodiment of the phrase "thirty going on three". Also, I really had to work to find things that could go wrong with making spaghetti. Luckily, I work with children, so know how sevearly idiotic people can be.

Warnings: nilt

Enjoy!

“There's spaghetti on my ceiling.”

Both Loki and Thor looked away sheepishly.

“WHY IN FUCKS NAME IS THERE SPAGHETTI ON MY CEILING?”

“… well, m’Lady-”

“Darling, I didn’t-”

“I left you two alone for ONE DAY!”

They each share a glance.

“What?” you say dryly.

Thor sighs and turns away, while Loki comes over to you. “My love, me and Thor will deal with this shenanigan. I promised I’d make you dinner, and I'll make you dinner. Just go and relax and I’ll come and get you when the time is right. Perhaps watch another one of those comedic films with Lang, the two of you seem to enjoy those.”

“Thought you got jealous when I watched movies with him?” you said.

“Angel, Lang couldn’t find a single hostage in training yesterday. If he is unable to locate a human sized test dummy, I don’t hold out much hope of him finding a clitoris. Besides,” he continues “I'm sure his penis is just as small as the rest of him.”

You just roll your eyes as he ushers you out the door. “And don’t burn my pans! And so help me God if you break my stove, I’m going to shove that blender straight up your-”

The front door slammed shut behind you. “Loki, I don’t think she is happy with us,” Thor stated. “I see very little chance of you being able to seduce her if you continue to act so childishly.”

“Remind me again who threw pasta at the ceiling?” Loki said through gritted teeth.

“Well, me, but Jane said it is important to use the pan to flip what you are cooking.”

“What Jane failed to mention, you ignorant buffoon, is that is for cooking pancakes.”

“Loki, pancakes are eggs and flour. Pasta, according to this detailed list on the packaging, is eggs and flour. I see no reason why the rules would change.”

Loki put his head in his hands. “Thor, how about I handle the cooking from now on?”

“And what are we making?”

“Spaghetti.”

“And balls of meat?”

“No Thor, just spaghetti.” Loki says, “Let’s not walk before we can run.”

Thor gasped. “But where are the balls of meat? Jane always makes balls of meat to go with spaghetti.”

“Thor, we have no meat.”

The blond just smirked. “I can assure you brother, I have plenty of meat. It is not my fault you are of such scrawny, runt-like nature. Why, do you not remember in our youth when we would play, and you would always…”

Loki left him to his prattling, and used his magic to clean the kitchen, remove the strands of spaghetti from the ceiling, and refill the kettle. He had wanted to make you something homemade, and so had asked his brother to assist, thinking Jane would have taught him something. Unfortunately, Thor was even less equipped to be sue-chef than him. Since you had left them to their own devices, they had made your kettle explode, set off the fire alarm, and Thor had cut his hand. They had since given up on making a tomato sauce and had lowered their standards enough to consider plain spaghetti a meal.

“Thor, snap the spaghetti in half and put it in the pot.”

Thor picked up a handful of spaghetti and instead of holding it in the middle, he took it by the ends, snapping it in front of him and spraying the kitchen in broken spaghetti pieces. His brother just looked on, muttering insults in their mother tongue. He took a pot down and filled it with the water out the kettle while Thor scuttled around on all fours picking up shards of pasta.

“Thor, for the love of all things holy, just put the spaghetti in the pan.”

Thor turns to the pot on the stove, and sticks his fist full of spaghetti into the boiling water, completely submerging his hand.

“AAAAH LOKI MAKE IT STOP”

“Take your hand out the pan Thor.”

Thor flings his arm up, spilling the boiling water all down himself.

“LOKI IT BURNS!!!!”

“Of course it does, its boiling water.”

“FIX IT.”

“No.”

“LOKI I AM KING OF ASGARD. YOU ARE UNDER OBLIGATION TO HELP ME. YOU WILL FIX THIS THIS INSTANT.”

“Thor, as the prince of Asgard, I am not obligated to do shit. Perhaps do as the Midgardians do when they are burnt. Run it under cold water.”

Loki turned away to magic up the complete shambles his brother had managed to achieve (again), and –for the fifth time today- boiled the kettle to make pasta. Thor had clearly misinterpreted his instruction, because he was running the pan under the tap.

“Loki, I fail to see how this is helping, I am still in a great deal of pain-”

The dark-haired god swiped the pan back. “Your arm, you utter cretin. Run the cold tap and hold your ARM under the water.”

Having distracted his brother enough to successfully put spaghetti on to boil, he began to grate some cheese.

“LOKI, I WANTED TO DO THAT.”

“You’d get blood in the cheese.”

“I won’t. I promise. Pleeeeeeaseee?”

“Fine.”

Thor enthusiastically leaps over to grate the cheese, while Loki stirs, drains and dishes out the pasta. In this time, not only has Thor zested the cheese instead of grating it, he has also zested a whole block of cheese and the top layer of skin on his fingers. The cheese was completely sodden with blood.

"Thor, what did I just say?"

"Pretend it's tomato sauce brother? She will never know!"

When you finally return from Langs, you find Loki, Thor, Strange, and Stranges medical kit all sat on your sofa. Thor's entire arm is bandaged, and Wanda and Steve are chatting away in your kitchen, making something that smells delicious.

“Fucksake Loki.”

“I’m sorry darling.” he says, “I tried, I really tried, but it just never worked, and I-”

“I know, love,” you cut him off. “Just tell me if you need cooking lessons, yeah? I can’t say I’m fond of coming home to find my kitchen in a disaster. I’ve just had a long day. I shouldn't've snapped. I’m sorry.”

He wraps you up in his arms. “Me too love.”

“Lo?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Have you ever heard of take away?”

[dollfaceksj]

clover stop playing w me , give it to me (also let me be the mention this time 😭😭😭)

okay!!!

can’t afford love | myg (m) #9

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

“you lied to me?”

…

ugh

you did

but only because you were hoping to have sex one more time before your next ovulation

and you were worried he was not gonna be in the mood if you’d told him the truth

you sigh and close the door

you lean your back against the door

with your hands behind your back

and you glance up at him

“i didn’t want you to think i was doing something underhanded. i just need time to… you know. ease my mom into the situation.”

he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs quietly, glancing at the floor for a few seconds before back at you

“i’m sorry. i was gonna tell her soon and i just didn’t want to worry you.”

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair

“i get it but now your mom thinks we’re dating again. what if she thinks i just knocked you up and ditched you?”

he’s 100% right

you should’ve just told him that she didn’t know

you shake your head. “i’ll take full responsibility, yoongi. i swear.”

he drops his hands to his hips and stares up at the ceiling

the view in front of you is exactly what you’d gotten used to seeing whenever you pissed him off or disappointed him

you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down

and ur getting more anxious by the second, fingers fidgeting behind your back

he starts nodding. “okay.”

:(

ugh he puts up with too much of your shit

so swallow your pride NOW!!!

you slowly reach out to his hand, holding it out for him to take

what… are you doing…

he stares at your hand for a few moments

your fingers twitch with the urge to take your hand back and act like you didn’t just do that

but he takes it

allows you to lead him to the dining table

:(

you go back to where jun’s seated in front of the tv

“you hungry, baby?” you coo at jun, squatting down to his level and rubbing his cheeks

he nods. “what eating?”

“we’re eating spaghetti, baby.”

he smiles and claps his hands but continues to play with his toys

you glance over your shoulder to look at yoongi

who’s just staring at you with a frown and crossed arms whilst sitting at the dining table

wait

you used to always attempt to make him laugh or flustered when he was mad at you

maybe you could just…

💡

you turn back to look at jun. “you happy that daddy is here?”

jun nods and glances at his father with a sweet smile

you can tell yoongi can’t help but smile back at his son even though your back is to him

“do you want daddy to come more often?” you ask, playing with the shell of jun’s ear

he nods again but continues to slam his toys into the floor. “mommy too?”

???

is he asking whether you want yoongi to start coming more often too?

well

here goes nothing 😘

you say,

sheepishly,

“hm. i want daddy to come more often too.”

you hear a quick exhale coming from behind you

satisfied, you rise to your feet and glance over your shoulder at yoongi

he’s just staring at you with his tongue rolling against the inside of his cheek

he looks mad still

but you know that type of humor is right up his alley

you start setting the table

“you need help?” he grunts, clearly still mad but wanting to help nonetheless

“no, mr. grumpy. just sit there like a good boy and wait until you get your food.”

ouuuu

it’s silent for a while which makes you look at him

he stares at you for a fat second before shaking his head whilst trying to fight the grin that’s threatening to creep onto his lips

😇

you guess knowing each other like the back of your hands is a gift and a curse

except you lie to yoongi so often and he keeps falling for it

or does he?

maybe he just wants to believe you

….

you start placing the loaded plates

you cut jun’s spaghetti in smaller pieces and hand him a fork

you sit across from yoongi

and he thanks you for the food

and the rest of the dinner

is quiet.

you suppose it’s your own fault.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

jun has seemingly fallen asleep in front of the tv

you put jun to bed while yoongi cleans up

you make it to the kitchen and you’re just in time to watch him finish the dishes

“you didn’t have to do the dishes,” you quietly say as you cross your arms and rub your elbows in comfort

he shrugs his shoulders. “no big deal.”

he tosses the towel over his shoulder and takes a deep breath

“so,” he starts

“so..” you add…..

“i guess i’ll,” he pauses as he looks around. “i’ll go?”

you shrug. “you can but third time’s a charm, no?”

he tilts his head to the side. “you want to have sex when jun’s here?”

“i was joking,” you mumble but then glance at yoongi. “as if you wouldn’t.”

he blinks at you a couple of times and shoves his hands into his pockets. “i mean,” he pauses as he shrugs. “we’ve done it before.”

you start playing with the strings of your bathrobe in a way that is nothing other than teaseful

his eyes drop to the strings in your hand, along the way, his gaze lingers on your cleavage for a bit before shaking his head. “you haven’t changed a bit.”

hmm

you suppose he’s right

after all this time you haven’t changed a bit

you being a tease

you being the cause of his high blood pressure

being sneaky?

a liar?

“was i supposed to?” you lean against the counter and cross your arms

he seemingly thinks about his answer a few moments. “no.”

you nod your head in mock agreement.

he adds, “i married you for a reason.”

oh.

Oh.

okay😂

change the topic before we get emotional xx

you start, “so, won’t you give me what i want?”

he’s confused now. “and that is…?”

“a baby.” you roll your eyes with all the sass you’ve got

he’s even more confused now. “aren’t i already doing that?”

you stare at him for a moment longer. “i meant right now.”

it’s quiet for a while

you’re both just staring at each other

the tv is softly playing in the background

he says, “i thought you said you were joking.”

you nonchalantly shrug your shoulders. “liars tend to lie.”

aurrr….

he stares at you with the ‘what am i gonna do with you?’ look, eyes occasionally dropping down to your body

you know he’s had absolutely enough of you for one lifetime

but you also know he can’t get enough of you

and you can’t either

so you push. “come on, we won’t have another chance until over a month.”

yeah go ahead and blame that

not like you’re extremely horny.

damn ovulation!!!

and you being horny was never really a problem

yoongi and you had always been sexually active

like

really active

and so, you’d usually solve your problems by having sex

not smart nor healthy but it seemed to work for the both of you

no it didn’t. you’re literally divorced. ???

“besides,” you start, “if we’re lucky we won’t even have to wait until next month.”

‘lucky’

you don’t even want this to end you dirty liar

he throws his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

good. then you won’t have to see him with anyone else

??

what are you saying

yoongi can be with whoever he wants

the days that you had something to say about that are over

and he can be mad about you lying to him all he wants later

right now the priority is having sex while you’re ovulating

so just communicate better after tonight.

just.

one.

last.

time.

“if you die, who’s gonna knock me up?” you ask, pretending to think about it. “i think seokjin’s genes are immaculate. jimin’s too.”

his head shoots back to look at you again

he stares at you with a frown for a few moments before pushing himself off the counter and strutting up to you until the distance between you two is gone

“no one but me is gonna put that goddamn baby in you.”

he stares at you with a deep frown, black feline eyes being the only thing you can see now

“well, i–”

he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he wraps his fingers around your wrist and starts dragging you out the kitchen

you can’t help but let out an excited giggle as he pulls you towards your room and closes the door behind you two to minimize the noise making

before you know it, you’re pushed face first onto the bed

you can’t even let out a squeal when his weight is on your body, seated on your ass and chest pressed into your back

he leans over, lips grazing your ear. “you piss me off so much,” he mumbles, hips continuing to grind into the swell of your ass

hm.

“the feeling’s mutual,” you retort

but you both know you’re the one always making his blood boil and not vice versa

“oh, is it? what’s pissing you off? not getting fucked enough?” his lips right next to your ear makes a shiver run up your spine

it’s like he’s inside your head

you merely grunt in response, worried that if he keeps talking to you like this whilst grinding into you is going to have you respond louder than you’d prefer

it doesn’t take long before your silk robe is hiked up to your waist again, exposing your leaking sex to him

and his pants and underwear are ditched

disregarded somewhere on the floor

with a deep exhale, he pushes into you

and you accidentally let a loud noise escape your mouth

he reaches around your face and drapes his fingers over your mouth in order to keep you quiet

pounding into you relentlessly with his hand minimizing your cries

“remember the college days? i fucked you just like this when your family was in the house.” he brings up the events from when you were in college, living at home

always promising each other not to have sex if he came over because he has a dorm room, if u wanted to have sex you could just do it there!!!

but the promises were always broken within an hour of being with each other

hand on top of your mouth as he fucked you silly

proving to you that you’re his and no one else’s

and the feeling is eerily similar right now

too familiar

but you’re too far gone to really think about the effects it will have. you just want him to keep going

and you’re both treating this

like it’s the last time

so what’s the harm?

he continues to thrust, ragged breathing in your ear

his hand shielding your mouth does a good job of keeping you quiet but not perfect

occasional moans and sobs are still too loud

so he plunges his index and middle finger into your mouth

you automatically wrap your lips around his fingers, turning your head to the side to look at him

and his face

is right

next to yours

….

hair sticking to his forehead

lips parted as heavy breaths leave his mouth

his dark eyes scan your face like a predatory animal

committing it all the memory

your brows furrowed

eyes big and doe like

tears pooling in your waterline

lips pouty as they’re wrapped around his fingers

tongue sliding in between his fingers, coating them in your saliva

“fuck,” he whispers as his eyes drop to your lips, how well they wrap around his fingers and then back up to your eyes. “i’m still addicted to how fucking pretty you look with me in your mouth.”

fuck

ah shit

it’s coming

it’s bubbling up the back of your throat

to be continued.

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[domnamewoman]

love love love your submissive mk writing. 😽😽😽 Please write femdom!reader and sub!Johnny, girl I’m begging.

Title: Let Me Please You

Summary: You feel like Johnny hasn’t been making you a priority lately, so you make him regret it. (I don’t know 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Johnny Cage, Smut, 18+ 

Word Count: 1,937

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

You place the last fork on the table and stand back to admire your work. The table is elegantly set for two, with lit candles and a floral centerpiece as decoration. You smooth your hands down your silk, spaghetti-strap dress as you check off your to-do list in your head. The table is set, candles are lit, dinner is cooling on the counter, drinks are chilled, and the Bluetooth speaker is emanating some smooth romantic jazz throughout your home. The only thing missing is Johnny. Your cell phone buzzes as if on cue.

“Right on time.”

You happily jog to the kitchen to retrieve your phone from the island. Smiling to yourself, you unlock your phone and open Johnny’s message. Your smile quickly turns into a frown once you read its contents.

Johnny:

Hey babe, I won’t be home until later. Producers are going out for drinks.

You:

Johnny, we were supposed to have a romantic evening together. I made dinner and everything.

Johnny:

I know, I’m sorry hun, but Daniel Evans is going to be there. I’ve been trying to brush shoulders with him for a while. It’s the perfect time to pitch him the screenplay I’ve been working on. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

“Urrgh,” You groan as your eyes roll. Sure you supported Johnny’s career, but you can’t help feeling like you are constantly being put on the back burner.

Annoyed, you don’t bother responding and put your phone back on the island. Whatever, you won’t let Johnny’s absence ruin your night.

You walk to the table, collect Johnny’s dishes, and put them away, then grab your plate and walk over to the homemade lasagna resting near the stove. You serve yourself some pasta and grab a piece of garlic bread. After pouring yourself something to drink you sit at the table with your food.

Taking a bite of lasagna, you moan around your fork as flavor explodes on your tongue. You did your thing, sis! You compliment yourself as you take your time, savoring every bite. Johnny was truly missing out.

After you finish, you blow out the candles, then take your dishes to the sink and clean them. You might as well, right? You place the leftover lasagna into a Tupperware container and put it away. You turn off the Bluetooth speaker on your way to your bedroom.

You sigh as you slip out of your dress. You really didn’t think you would be undressing yourself tonight. You enter the connecting bathroom and start to run yourself a bath.

You pick up Johnny’s favorite bathbomb and toss it into the tub. If only Johnny knew just how much you planned for him. The jerk.

Reaching over to shut off the water, you climb into the tub and take a seat. The warm water envelops you and you feel your muscles start to relax. You breathe in the calming scents of jasmine and vanilla and sink further into the tub, splashing water over your neck and shoulders. You really were in need of a pamper evening.

You soak in the water until it turns cold and your fingers are pruney. Unstopping the drain, you exit the tub and wrap your fluffy towel around your body. You make your way to the bedroom feeling completely relaxed.

Running the towel over your skin, you collect all the droplets of water. Once dry, you throw the towel into the hamper and make your way to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, you pull out your favorite vibrator and caress it fondly. It's been a while.

You walk to the foot of the bed and splay out, not bothering to move up to the top. You drop the vibrator next to you as you feel your arousal from the past week hit you full force. You aren’t in a rush, you will take your time enjoying yourself.

You run your hands over your abdomen and knead the soft flesh. Your hands trail up to your boobs and you cup the lobes, giving them a gentle squeeze. You release a needy moan as you tease your nipples between your fingers. The pinches and twists send tingles of pleasure straight to your core.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you trail one of your hands down to your pussy and feel your wetness coat your fingers. Using your middle finger, you rub circles into your clit. Your head tilts back in pleasure.

“Yeees…” You moan out, increasing your speed.

“Baby?” You hear Johnny call out from the living room. When did he get back? You must have been too distracted to hear the front door open. Oh well, his arrival changes nothing.

Johnny opens the door to your bedroom and pauses in the doorway.

“Baby…”

You can swear you hear him gulp as his eyes rake over you. You know you are a sight to behold, spread out on the bed completely naked, hand between your thighs. Too bad. He could have had all of this had he come home. You ignore him and release another moan as you let your legs fall open a little wider. You aren’t above putting on a show.

“Look, I-I’m sorry for coming home late.” He tries, as he inches into the bedroom toward the end of the bed.

“I’m used to it,” You say as you slowly insert three fingers inside yourself.

“Come on, love…” Johnny rushes to the foot of the bed looking down at you. “It was a rare chance to get Daniel Evans to look at my work. You understand, right?”

“Of course I do, Jonathan.”

Johnny whines at the use of his full name and he sinks to his knees in front of you. “No, I’m your Johnny boy, Jon Jon, Sexy J-”

“When have I ever called you that?”

“-The point is, you never call me Jonathan unless you're mad.”

“Well, I’m not happy.”

“I’m sorry. I know we haven’t had a lot of time together recently,” He rushes to finish when you start to interject, “And that’s completely on me. I’ll make more of an effort to not let work interfere with our time.”

You could never stay mad a him for long. Softie.

“Ugh, fine. Now shut up, you are ruining the vibe,” You complain as you curl your fingers inside of you.

Johnny grips both of your ankles and pulls them up so your knees are bent and your feet are resting on the edge of the bed. Johnny starts running his hands up and down your calves as he kisses your knee and makes his way down to your thigh.

“You know, I’d love to help with your vibe.”

“Thanks, but my “vibe” doesn’t need any help,” You quip as you reach over and grab your vibrator from where you dropped it earlier.

“Are you serious?” Johnny asks incredulously.

“Absolutely, you still need to be punished for blowing me off earlier. You aren’t allowed to touch me until I say you can. Now hands off,” You say as you swat at his hands resting on your calves.

Johnny begrudgingly lets go and sits back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs.

You raise up and support your upper body with one elbow as you swipe the vibrator along your folds, coating it in your juices. You start to guide it into your entrance and look up at Johnny.

His eyes are trained on the vibrator slowly disappearing in your pussy. His tongue darts out and runs over his lips. You know he wants nothing more than to have his mouth on you. Johnny loved eating you out and pulling moan after moan from you. You loved letting him do it.

“Mmmh…” You begin to push and pull the vibrator in and out of you faster and faster.

“Please…” Johnny gasps.

You knew it wouldn’t take him long to start begging. The only kink that rivaled Johnny’s love of giving oral, was his need for praise. He felt as though every moan you made was a tiny compliment of how good he was and how good he made you feel. You know he can’t stand watching a vibrator give you the pleasure that he should be giving you and drawing out moans that he should be receiving. You decide to torture him a little more.

Using your thumb to press a button on the vibrator, you arch your back as it buzzes to life.

“Oh my… Yes! Ha-aaah… it feels so good!” You exclaim as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Please…” You roll your head around to focus your eyes back on Johnny. His fists are clenched tight in an effort to not reach out and touch you. “Please baby, let me make you cum.”

You smirk at him. “Hmm… I don’t know Johnny, this vibrator is doing a pretty good job. Mmm… Think you’ll be any better?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know I will.”

He stares at you with desperate determination. His carnal desire to pleasure you coils something in your stomach and is almost enough to make you cum right now.

“Prove it.”

Johnny snatches the vibrator out of your hand and tosses it to the side. He quickly pulls your legs over his shoulders and starts devouring you like a starving man.

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction so soon.

He takes your silence as a challenge and inserts three of his fingers into you, immediately curling them up and finding your G-spot. Johnny prided himself on knowing your body like the back of his hand.

You decide you have punished him enough. How can you not reward your baby when he is being so good and pleasuring you like this?

“Yes, baby… just like that! Mmm… you are doing so good for me!” You run your fingers through his hair and tug on it just the way he likes.

Johnny moans around your clit and the vibrations pull you closer to the edge.

“Uuh… Johnny… a-are you going to be a good boy… a-and make me cum?”

Johnny nods into you and starts quickly flicking his tongue over your clit and drills his fingers into you faster, hitting your G-spot every time. Your back arches and you grip his hair in one hand and the sheets in the other.

“Yes! That’s it, baby… Uuh you feel so good! Mmm… I-I’m so… close… Ah… Johnny!”

You clench around his fingers as you drown them in your release. Johnny slows to a stop and gently removes his fingers, kissing your inner thigh and looking up at you adoringly.

You moan, coming down from your high, and grab at him, pulling him on top of you. Johnny wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your neck and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“So, was I better than the vibrator?” Johnny asks, raising his head to look at you.

You playfully roll your eyes and huff out, “Yes Johnny, you were better than the vibrator.”

“Yes! Cage for the win. Nothing and no one can make you cum like I can.”

“Sure, sure. Speaking of, do you need some help?” You pointedly grind up into him and are surprised when you don’t feel his erection.

“Are you kidding? Do you think I can hear you moaning for me like that and not shoot a load in my pants?”

You shake your head as you chuckle at the fact he came untouched. “You are such a praise slut.”

“Hey, why do you think I’m an actor?”

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: trucker!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: It’s always a time when uncle Ari comes around

⚠️: uncle!Ari (just as damaging as dad!Ari and regular Ari lol) mention of nightmares, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: Hey guys! Another Halloween themed fic but this time with a softer Ari😌. This will serve as atonement to myself (and others who might be affected) for daring to make my fave dark in my last post lol. Hope you guys like it!!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pics used as they were all found on Pinterest*

As expected, four year old Grace had been attached to Ari since the moment you both arrived to babysit for the night. You wouldn’t say you were upset seeing that he was her uncle and that they’ve talked nearly every day since she could babble, but there was still a little sting every time you were greeted with a quiet “hi” or short wave before she was gone and you long forgotten.

Like now as they dug through their shared pumpkin emptying it’s stringy contents while you were in charge of decorating the sugar cookies waiting on the cooling rack.

“S’cold!,” she squealed dumping out her handful of pumpkin guts.

“Be careful of the seeds, you swallow one and a huge pumpkin’s gonna grow in your belly,” Ari warned to which little Grace quickly shook her head.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“No uncle Ari, we can eat. See?” Before either of you can say anything, she’s quick to set one on her tongue happily chewing until she can swallow it down rubbing her belly. “I’m fine.”

“I guess you showed me huh,” he chuckles tapping her nose and leaving some juice from his finger on her skin successfully turning it light orange. Grace is quick to retaliate though rubbing her hands on his cheeks to leave behind tiny pieces of string as she giggles - and you do too from the other side of the kitchen.

Honestly you couldn’t blame her for picking Ari over you as her favorite. You’d choose him too if you had to pick between the two of you.

“Alright, it’s pretty much cleaned out now. You want scary or funny?,” he asks watching as she adorably tapped her tiny finger to her temple in thought.

“Hmm…funny!”

“Got it,” he nods. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and help your aunt with cookies?”

“I got everything we could ever want Grace,” you smile reaching in your grocery bag full of decorating goodies. “There’s sprinkles - three different shapes I might add - glitter, edible stickers, and stencils to help us draw shapes!”

The way she gazed at the sprinkles with her mouth in a little “o”, you think you’ve got her. Finally able to bond with her over a shared love of cookies like you were in one of those Hallmark movies. Like a little happy family.

“Um..wanna stay with uncle Ari.”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh okay,” you answer successfully hiding your hurt behind your nonchalance. Ari still notices though giving you a sympathetic smile and mouthing, “sorry.”

You appreciated him trying, but maybe you were just meant to be the fun uncle’s wife that barely got a hello. And who tends to go overboard with cookie decorating supplies.

•

“Alright ladies are we ready?,” Ari asks sitting on the navy blue sectional between you and a bouncy Grace nodding yes. During your spaghetti dinner - made by Ari since apparently his was the best although he used your recipe - he suggested that you all watch a movie afterwards.

Specifically, Gremlins.

His thought process being what better way for everyone - more so you and Grace - to spend time together than to watch a movie? Especially a spooky one seeing that it was the night before Halloween. You, on the other hand, had a few concerns on his niece potentially being scared of the little troublesome creatures.

“She’ll be fine. It’s not that scary,” he assured kissing your cheek.

Freshly bathed and in her appropriately themed pumpkin pajamas, Grace couldn’t wait holding on tight to her Mickey Mouse blanket as she watched her uncle press play.

“Share with me!,” she smiles just as Ari spreads the bigger, cream blanket over both yours and his lap.

“I’m not gonna fit though bug.”

“Uh huh! Watch,” she states crawling into his lap and neatly spreading the grey blanket over her legs and his thighs. You - again - casted off to the side with your blanket as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “We fit!”

“Y-Yea, looks like we do.” He gives you another sympathetic smile draping his arm around your shoulders while you bundle deeper under the blanket.

“I’d rather be by myself anyway. Little does she know her uncle is a blanket hog,” you think trying to make yourself feel better.

•

Ari appeared to be right on Grace not being scared. She even fell asleep towards the end with her upper half on the cushion next to them and lower half still on his lap; mouth wide open pointed towards the ceiling. Ari was the one to tuck her in bed, while you cleaned up the blankets and plates of cookie crumbs left in the living room.

You were the last to enter the shared guest room to finally get ready for bed yourself. Your love struck husband taking turns gazing at you and the last period of some hockey game as you strode back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom. A small, dopey smile on his lips watching you wash your face and apply all your products.

“Share with me?,” he pouts with those puppy eyes making you giggle while sliding into the full sized bed.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I feel like Grace is gonna somehow come in saying how she wants you to sleep in her room instead because that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

Yes probably a little petty, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His tattooed arms bring you closer into his body pecking the top of your head as you settle between his pecs. A low “aw” vibrating in his chest while his hands rub along your back.

“I know I probably sound jealous, but I’m not. I love how you have a great relationship with your niece! But it’s like she hates me and I have no idea what I did.”

He knew that had always been a bit of a fear for you. Kids hating you for whatever reason, thus meaning you shouldn’t have them although you did desire to be a mother one day. It’s why you were nervous meeting Grace all those years ago, afraid that the smallest mess up would ruin everything.

It didn’t help that the minute Ari passed her to you, she began whining and squirming. Your coos of comfort and gentle rocks didn’t seem to help, only making her more agitated not getting what she wanted. She didn’t stop until she was back in Ari’s strong arms and you kept your distance the rest of the visit cautious of a repeat interaction.

If only he could get you to ignore that fear and really see how everyone you met - adults and children alike - had no issues with you. Some even left enchanted by the charisma you thought you lacked.

“I promise, she doesn’t hate you gorgeous.”

“She said so?,” you quietly ask lifting your head with a hint of hope.

“Well…no. But she didn’t say the opposite either.” He tried to soothe your qualms, but it’s not helping the way he hoped watching your head fall back to his chest with a light huff. “Trust me sweetheart. I guess she’s just attached to me because-,”

“You’re amazing and clearly the favorite,” you mumble making him chuckle.

“I was gonna say because I talk to her more, but I’ll take the compliment.”

It’s not long after that you’re both falling asleep lulled by the shared warmth from holding each other. Ari’s soft snores vibrating the side of your face still lying on his chest.

You think you’re dreaming when a mix of a whine and cry hits your ears disrupting your rest and making you groggily sit up. Hearing feet shuffling outside your door though confirms those sounds are in fact real, giving you more motivation to investigate.

Your husband’s too far gone in his own dreamland to be affected by your moving; still lightly snoring with an arm over his forehead and the other out by his side.

Quietly opening the door, you wrap your arms around yourself in your thin pajama set feeling the chill of the night air seeping into your sister in law’s house before carefully padding out to the living room. There, you notice something on the couch moving under the blanket you folded earlier causing you to freeze in place. It was then you realized you probably should’ve woken Ari up so he could be the one playing detective or at least grabbed something you could use to defend yourself.

“H-Hello?,” you call out to the dim space only lit by a couple plug in nightlights in the walls.

“Hi,” Grace’s soft voice responds with a short sniffle.

You also realize how you’re sleepy brain might not be fully thinking straight unable to conclude earlier how it could just be your own niece sitting there on the couch.

Stepping closer, you sit on the cushion next to hers peeling back the cotton throw until you see her splotchy face and red eyes. Water attached to her curled lashes and some still threatening to spill over. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream…gwemlins,” she answers using the blanket to wipe her eyes. You immediately hug her close as you coo and assure her everything’s okay.

And surprisingly, she hugs you back.

Her tiny arms wrap tight around you - well, as far as they could with her adorably short reach - almost refusing to let you go.

“Yea, when they get angry they can be scary huh?”

She nods. “And have very very sharp teeth.”

“They do, but luckily they’re not real so there’s nothing-,”

A crash from the back room startles both of you making Grace scream, with the six year old nearly choking you now having her arms around your neck.

“It’s them!,” she cries hiding her face in your shoulder just as Ari limps into the living room holding his knee and appearing half asleep.

“Damn dresser,” he grumbles wiping his eyes that quickly fill with concern seeing both of you on the couch and his niece upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace had a nightmare about Gremlins,” you answer pointedly glaring at him as if saying, “I told you so!”

The slight wince on his face isn’t just from an uncomfortable knee as he walks forward to perch on the coffee table. “I’m sorry bug. I didn’t mean to show that to you to scare you.”

“Not nice uncle Ari,” she mumbles still attached to you.

“Forgive me?,” he pouts holding his arms out for a hug. “Peas?”

Wiping her eyes one last time, a small smile begins to spread on her lips as she moves from you to Ari. A fit of giggles rapidly escaping her mouth as his larger body practically swallows hers in a bear hug and he attacks her cheeks with kisses. A dramatic “mwah” sounding every time he made contact causing you to giggle as well.

And fantasize the undoubtedly joyful future you’d both have with your own children.

“Don’t do it again!,” she chastises when he stops. Wagging her finger inches from his nose making him chuckle. She was definitely her mother’s child.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Alright guys,” you sigh, “Since it’s gonna be a bit difficult to go back to sleep, I say we watch something happy.”

“Not Gwemlins!”

“No definitely not,” you chuckle. “I was thinking..Aladdin.”

“Yay! I love Aladdin!,” she claps in Ari’s arms as he picks her up so they both can sit on the couch. To both of your surprise, Grace crawls from her uncle’s lap and squeezes between you and Ari. “You like too?”

“Mhm, I even went as Princess Jasmine for Halloween when I was little.” You have to admit, seeing that gleam of admiration in her eyes as she gazed up at you made you silently thank Ari for showing her that movie. It was the reason behind this bonding moment that you didn’t think would happen.

As the movie played, you and Grace talked about the scenes and of course sung along to your heart’s content not caring if you were off key. All the while Ari watched you both with a soft smile on his pink lips loving how fast of friends you’d become.

And when you both fell asleep - you leaning on his shoulder and her across your lap - he couldn’t help but sneakily take a picture with his phone. Sending it to you with a message saying “looks like you’re amazing and a clear favorite too😉”.

[death-paint]

Spellbound

Leon Kennedy x Fem! Witch! Reader

Word Count: 2224

Warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff

Finally finished it! This fic has been in the works for months. Mainly because of writer's block and general executive dysfunction. It's definitely happier than my last fic, but I do also have another angst fic coming. This is my second time ever posting a fic on Tumblr, so please be gentle with any critique ;w; I hope you all enjoy!! Fic under the cut!!

Although this particular piece isn't NFSW, minors DO NOT INTERACT with my content.

dividers by @cafekitsune

You danced around the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, waving around a little stick of incense as the smoke wafted into the room. He scrunched up his nose at the smell, but stared at you affectionately from the doorway. The music you had playing only enhanced the mood as you finally set the incense in the holder before walking into the kitchen and setting it on the windowsill. You were in a good mood today, wiggling your hips as you washed the dishes, getting ready to cook dinner for the two of you.

Leon walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You swayed a little more dramatically as you felt his touch, humming along to the song that carried through the house as you spun around.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, "What's got you feelin' so good this afternoon?"

"Getting some new supplies in the mail," you reply. "Bought some stuff online from a small business that I've been waiting on for a while."

"What kind of supplies?" Leon asked, confused.

"You'll see." You giggled at his cluelessness. "I'll teach you everything you need to know once it's here."

"Aw, come on, babe you're killin' me," he groaned. "Just tell me."

"Nope." You stand firm as you finish washing the dishes from earlier that day, taking one of the pots and putting it on the stove for pasta. "You'll have to wait, baby."

He finally let it go and sat down at the dining table, watching as you worked your magic. You bent down into a lower cabinet, pulling out a mason jar full of water with writing scribbled on the lid, and poured it into the pot. Leon raised an eyebrow. Why would you need to jar water? Why was it labeled? Did it have something in it? How did he not see it in the cabinet before?

“Hey…What’s up with the jar?” He asked, curiosity ever-so-present in his voice.

“Oh, this?” You held up the now empty jar. “It’s a little bit of moon water I made last full moon.”

He let your explanation sit with him for a beat, but he was still confused.

“I-…Moon water?” You let out another giggle.

“Yeah, baby. Moon water. You put water in a clear container and let it sit outside at night during whatever moon phase you wanna make it in.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as you provided more information.

“And what’s that supposed to do?” He pressed further.

“Depends on the phase.” You answered nonchalantly, turning back around to salt the water in the pot before adding in the spaghetti noodles. Leon scoffed, giving a smirk and shaking his head even when you couldn’t see him. But you could hear it in his voice.

“I call bullshit.” He started. “You really expect me to believe that you think moonlight has some magical powers? Come on, babe.”

“I know it doesn’t…not in the way you’re thinking, at least,” you replied, now sounding almost sad. “I know, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

Leon immediately backtracked, taking note of how belittled you appeared to feel.

“Wait- no, I’m sorry, I…” He sighed, trying to find the words. “It’s just…an unfamiliar idea to me is all. I don’t mean to make you feel bad about it, hon.”

“Well…if you do it again I’m not gonna teach you,” you huffed, pulling cheese and a carton of heavy cream out of the fridge. You grabbed another pot, thought for a moment, and then put it back, deciding against making more dishes for yourself to clean. You turned to the windowsill, where the now spent incense lay in a pile of ash on its holder, next to the herbs you had in little flowerpots.

You plucked a few leaves of each. All for taste, as well as practising your craft. Rosemary, thyme and basil for love, oregano to strengthen the bond with your partner, garlic and parsley for protection, a little bit of onion powder for good health, salt and pepper to purify your energy, and a sprinkle of (common) sage to dispel negativity. You laid everything out on the nearby cutting board, wiping your hands and turning to the pot of noodles. The strainer was already in the sink, and you grabbed a measuring cup to fill it with some of the starchy water before dumping the rest down the drain, the noodles caught in the metal colander.

That same pot was used just moments later. You threw it back on the burner, quickly turning down the heat and throwing in just enough pasta water to cover the bottom. You were just about to pick up the block of cheese to grate it when Leon stood up from his chair, taking it from you and giving you a kiss on the cheek before grating it himself.

“Can’t have you doing everything by yourself, love.” It was your turn to scoff now.

“That was literally the only thing I had left,” you told him, eyebrows raised as you crossed your arms.

He shrugged.

“Just thought I should take care of the rest.”

“You’re an ass,” you playfully smacked his shoulder.

“You know you love me.” He looked up briefly from his task, grinning.

Soon enough, dinner was finished and the two of you curled up on the couch with full bellies, deciding to leave the dishes to be dealt with in the morning. The two of you took turns flicking through your usual channels, but nothing good was on tonight. You even flicked through some streaming networks, but to your dismay, still couldn’t find anything you hadn’t already finished or were even interested in starting.

“Hey…How about I give you a reading?” You asked, clasping your hands together and raising them to your mouth as you smiled, waiting for his response.

“First moon water, now the…card…thing?” He answered your question with another before giving a sigh. “Sure, why not.”

As soon as he gave his seemingly reluctant approval, you hopped up off the couch and quickly walked to the altar in the corner of the room. You’d done most of the decorating, seeing as Leon rarely had time (even when he was home) to worry about the aesthetics of his living space. He’d wondered what was up with all of the suns, moons and stars, the occasional seashell here and there, and just chalked it up to you having an eccentric taste– which, to be honest, wasn’t that far off. The wall above the altar was full of dried flowers, some from bouquets that Leon bought you, others foraged. If he was being honest, at first he thought they looked kind of creepy, but over time he learned to like it. He thought it was cute that you kept the flowers he bought you, figuring you putting them on display was your way of showing appreciation for his affection. Small animal bones and crystals were arranged carefully on the altar, along with candles of varying sizes and colors– some burned down a bit more than others– and little trinkets he’d brought home from missions as well.

Leon watched as you opened the drawer and pulled out a deck of tarot cards, taking in your excitement. He loved making you happy, even if it meant doing something he was a little skeptical about. He couldn’t help but crack a smile as he saw your own, affection filling his gaze as you plopped back down on the couch.

You pulled out the deck of cards and a notepad from its box, set the notebook down, and began to shuffle.

“Wait…Tarot readings tell you your past, present, and future, right?” Leon asked, bows furrowing quizzically.

“Not necessarily,” you explained. “Most readings will give you advice about a current situation. It might tell you what will happen if you don’t take that advice, though,”

“So…you’re giving me life advice…with cards?” He shot out another question. “Am I getting that right?”

“Well…yeah, pretty much.” You shrugged. “There’s different kind of readings, too. Financial readings, love readings, career readings…”

“Let’s just start with a general one, yeah?” Leon suggested, a bit nervous about being able to retain all that information.

“Alright…I’ll shuffle, you tell me when to stop, and I’ll pull a card. We’ll do that for a basic three card spread.” You picked up the pace, shuffling only a few cards around when Leon told you to pull the first card. You pulled it away from the deck and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. You shuffled again, a bit longer this time, rinse and repeat.

One by one, you turn the cards over. 

“Wait, this one’s upside down…” Leon reached over to turn the card around, but you gently pushed his hand away.

“It’s supposed to be, babe. It has a meaning that way, too.” You turned the rest of the cards over. “King of Swords in reverse…Three of Cups…and Strength.”

“King of swords, and strength, huh? I must be a pretty macho man.” He chuckled.

“Well…The King of Swords in reverse can mean that you’re…impulsive or manipulative, kind of just…irrational,” you corrected him, treading lightly on your words and trying not to upset him.

“Irrational? Manipulative? When have I ever been manipulative?” his tone was defensive.

“Shush, don’t take it so personally, babe. They’re just cards.”

“Okay…what about the other two?” Leon huffed.

“Three of Cups represents happiness or overcoming some kind of hardship,” you turn to him, awaiting another response.

“Definitely have had a few of those,” he chuckled, calming down. “Alright, and the last one?”

“Strength represents…well, strength of course, and that you’re compassionate, patient, and that you can keep a cool head under pressure. Well, most of the time, seeing as you have the King of Swords in reverse as well.”

“Huh…well I guess that’s pretty accurate,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Can…I do one for you?”

“Of course!” You answered. “I can teach you how to read them, it’ll be fun!”

“Sure, okay. What’s next, you teach me spells?” He asked jokingly.

“I can!” Leon laughed briefly at your answer, before realizing you were serious.

You pulled up a website with a list of the meanings for the cards, and shoved the three cards from the previous reading back into the deck. You then handed the deck to Leon, having seen him shuffle cards before and knowing he was fairly good at it. He made a show of it, knowing you liked to watch as his skilled fingers cut the deck and shuffled effortlessly.

“How you want me to deal ‘em, pretty girl?” He smirked, finishing up when the first card fell out of the deck.

“You can do it however you feel is best, Leon,” you said. Leon nodded, opting to just pull the next two cards from the top. “I was thinking of asking about how things would work out between us, though.”

“Do you really need cards to tell you that?” Leon asked. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Let’s see…”

He flipped the first card over.

“The moon…What’s the moon gotta do with us?”

“Ooh…The Moon…” you repeat, your tone seeming to imply to him that the meaning was a bad one. “Complicated romance, uncertainty about love.”

Leon’s face dropped before he frantically turned over the next two cards,

“High priestess and queen of wands…”

“Keep patient, calm exterior with inner passion, intimacy…And for the Queen of Wands…an independent, cheerful and confident lover and… openness in the relationship.”

“And…What would that mean altogether?” Leon tilted is head with curiosity, his pretty blue eyes full of worry.

“Well, to me, it means that what we have is a bit hard to figure out at first, but if we stay patient with each other and communicate calmly, we’ll be okay.” You tilt your head back at him mockingly before continuing. “What’s the matter, mister? I thought you didn’t believe in this kind of stuff?”

“Pssh, I don’t” Leon scoffs. “Just…wanted to quiz you.”

“Mhm…sure, let’s go with that, love.” You shove the cards back into the deck and give him a kiss on the cheek before standing up to put the cards back on your altar. Leon goes through the collection of dvds on the shelf underneath the tv, and eventually pulls out something that looks like a shitty romcom. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What? Don’t like it?” he asks.

“Never been a romcom kinda gal, you know that, Lee.” You reply.

“Fine, what do you wanna watch, then?”

“Let’s just play a game together or something.”

“Alright, but I’ll just watch you.”

Soon enough, after a couple hours of trying to figure out a puzzle, you finally got tired (and frustrated) enough to go to bed. You took a quick shower, changed into some pajamas, and climbed into bed next to Leon. He pulled you closer, noses brushing together as you tangled your legs with his own.

“I love you,” Leon whispered.

“Even if you think my witchy stuff is silly?” you asked, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Of course, baby.” Leon kissed your forehead as the two of you closed your eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

“I love you too Leon. So much."