#Nights On The Town Limo

[suvondemandd]

Book SUV on Demand with our premium Black SUV Transportation services in Atlanta and North Georgia. Whether it is airport transportation, wedding transportation, luxury limo services, hourly limousine services, or point-to-point travel, date night, prom night and more, our services and pricing are unbeatable. At SUV on Demand, we know the importance of comfortability and luxury during your travel experience. Our objective is to exceed our clients expectations every step of the way.

[limorentalnyc101]

Why Concert Transportation in NYC is the Best Choice for Safety and Comfort

New York City is a hub for world-class concerts, with top artists performing at iconic venues like Madison Square Garden, Radio City Music Hall, and Barclays Centre. Whether you’re attending a sold-out show or an intimate performance, one thing is certain—getting to and from these venues can be stressful. From navigating through heavy traffic to dealing with crowded public transportation, concert nights can quickly become a logistical headache. That’s why booking professional New York Concert Transportation with Limo Rental NYC is the best choice to ensure both safety and comfort for your night out.

In this blog, we’ll explore the benefits of choosing Concert Transportation NYC for your next event and how our services like NYC Private City Tours and Night on Town Transportation can make your concert night even more memorable. Let’s dive into why comfort and safety should be your top priorities when attending a concert.

The Importance of Safety and Comfort for Concert Transportation

Concert nights in NYC are meant to be fun and exciting, but they also come with some challenges. Heavy traffic, packed venues, and large crowds can make navigating the city difficult, especially when safety is a concern. Here’s why opting for professional Concert Transportation NYC is the best way to prioritize both comfort and safety during your night out.

1. Avoid Stressful Driving and Parking

NYC is known for its congested streets, and concert nights are no exception. When you drive yourself, you not only have to deal with traffic but also the headache of finding parking near the venue. Parking garages can be expensive and often require you to walk long distances to the concert hall. With New York Concert Transportation, you can leave the driving and parking to a professional chauffeur. You’ll be dropped off right at the venue entrance and picked up afterward, eliminating the stress of finding parking.

2. Safe and Professional Chauffeurs

One of the biggest advantages of booking Concert Transportation NYC with Limo Rental NYC is the peace of mind that comes with professional chauffeurs. Our drivers are fully trained, licensed, and experienced in navigating New York City. They prioritize your safety, ensuring that you arrive at your concert venue securely and on time. After the show, you won’t have to worry about driving through heavy traffic or navigating busy streets—your chauffeur will be ready to take you to your next destination or safely home.

3. Travel with Friends Comfortably

Whether you’re going to a concert with a partner or a group of friends, having enough space to travel comfortably is important. Our fleet includes a variety of luxury vehicles, from stretch limos to party buses, that offer plenty of room for everyone. Instead of cramming into a small car or standing on public transportation, you and your group can enjoy the ride together, chatting, listening to music, and relaxing before and after the concert.

4. Skip Public Transportation Hassles

Public transportation may be a go-to option for some, but it’s far from ideal on concert nights. Trains and buses tend to be overcrowded and noisy, and after a long night of standing and dancing, squeezing into a packed subway car isn’t exactly a relaxing way to end the night. Concert Transportation NYC allows you to avoid the discomfort of public transport and travel in luxury and style.

How Concert Transportation Enhances Your Comfort

Comfort is key when it comes to making the most of your concert experience. At Limo Rental NYC, we provide vehicles equipped with luxury features to ensure your journey is as enjoyable as the concert itself. Here’s how our New York Concert Transportation service enhances your comfort:

1. Plush Seating and Spacious Interiors

After spending hours on your feet at a concert, the last thing you want is to squeeze into a cramped vehicle. Our limousines, SUVs, and party buses offer spacious interiors with plush leather seating, allowing you to relax and unwind after the show. Whether you’re heading to an after-party or home, you can travel in total comfort.

2. Onboard Entertainment

Keep the energy going with premium sound systems and onboard entertainment. Our luxury vehicles are equipped with advanced audio systems, so you can continue listening to your favorite tunes on the way to the concert or back home. For larger groups, our party buses even come with LED lighting, creating a fun atmosphere that lets the party continue long after the concert is over.

3. Climate Control

New York weather can be unpredictable, but your comfort is guaranteed with climate-controlled vehicles. Whether it’s a hot summer evening or a chilly winter night, our chauffeurs ensure that your ride is set to the perfect temperature, so you can travel comfortably no matter the season.

Additional Services to Elevate Your Concert Experience

Beyond providing a safe and comfortable ride to and from the concert, Limo Rental NYC offers additional services to make your night even more special. Consider adding one of these options to create a full VIP experience:

1. NYC Private City Tours

Arriving in New York early for your concert? Why not explore the city’s iconic landmarks before heading to the venue? With NYC Private City Tours, you can take in sights like Times Square, the Empire State Building, Central Park, and more, all from the comfort of a luxury vehicle. It’s the perfect way to make the most of your time in the city, especially if you’re visiting from out of town.

2. Night on Town Transportation

After the concert, don’t let the night end. Extend the fun by heading out to some of NYC’s hottest nightlife spots with our Night on Town Transportation service. Whether you want to visit a trendy rooftop bar, enjoy a late-night meal at a chic restaurant, or dance the night away at a nightclub, we’ve got you covered. Your chauffeur will take you to multiple locations throughout the night, ensuring that you have a seamless and enjoyable experience.

Why Choose Limo Rental NYC for Concert Transportation?

At Limo Rental NYC, we pride ourselves on offering top-tier New York Concert Transportation that prioritizes both safety and comfort. Here’s why we’re the best choice for your next concert night out:

1. Reliable and Punctual Service

We understand that timing is critical when it comes to attending concerts. Our chauffeurs are dedicated to arriving promptly and ensuring you get to your venue without any delays. After the concert, you can count on us to be waiting, ready to take you to your next destination.

2. Diverse Fleet of Luxury Vehicles

From sleek stretch limousines to spacious party buses, we offer a wide range of vehicles to accommodate groups of any size. Whether you’re celebrating a special occasion with friends or heading to a concert with a date, we have the perfect vehicle to match your needs.

3. Experienced and Professional Chauffeurs

Our chauffeurs are skilled professionals who know New York City’s streets inside and out. They prioritize your safety, comfort, and satisfaction, making sure you have a smooth and enjoyable ride from start to finish.

4. Customizable Packages

We offer flexible and customizable packages that cater to your unique plans. Whether you want a private city tour before the concert or late-night transportation afterward, we can create a tailored package that fits your schedule and budget.

How to Book Your Concert Transportation with Limo Rental NYC

Booking your Concert Transportation NYC is easy with Limo Rental NYC. Here’s how:

Visit Our Website: Explore our fleet of luxury vehicles and choose the one that best fits your group size and preferences.

Contact Us: Give us a call: (917) 722-1119 or fill out our online form to discuss your concert transportation needs, including pickup times, destinations, and any additional services like city tours or nightlife stops.

Confirm Your Reservation: Once you’ve selected your vehicle and customized your package, we’ll handle the rest, ensuring you have a seamless experience.

Final Thoughts

When it comes to attending a concert in New York City, safety and comfort should always be top priorities. By booking New York Concert Transportation with Limo Rental NYC, you can enjoy a luxurious, stress-free ride that lets you focus on the music and fun. Whether you’re heading to a concert with friends or making a night of it with NYC Private City Tours or Night on Town Transportation, we’ll ensure your experience is safe, comfortable, and unforgettable.

Contact Limo Rental NYC today to book your concert transportation and make your next night out in NYC truly VIP!

[limousinelink]

Experience Luxury with Ventura County Limo Service - Hollywood Playnight, Your Trusted Choice

Elevate your travel experience in Ventura County with Hollywood Playnight, your go-to source for premier limo services. Our Ventura County limo service ensures a seamless blend of sophistication and comfort, promising a memorable journey for any occasion.

Discover unparalleled luxury as our professionally chauffeured limousines navigate the picturesque landscapes of Ventura County. Whether it's a special event, corporate gathering, or a night on the town, Hollywood Playnight guarantees prompt and reliable transportation services.

Indulge in the opulence of our meticulously maintained fleet, designed to exceed your expectations. Hollywood Playnight takes pride in being a trusted provider of Ventura County limo services, delivering a seamless blend of style, comfort, and reliability. Make every moment unforgettable by choosing Hollywood Playnight for your transportation needs in Ventura County. Experience the epitome of elegance with our premier limo service.

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 2)

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

summary: Logan is a man of his word. You and Logan have your first date in the only nice restaurant in town, except it doesn't last long because you want him the food hot to go. Ch. 1 Ch 3 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, pet names (doll, baby), oral (fem! receiving), fingering, praise kink, light slapping, logan's claws come out, set after the events of Logan (2017) except he doesn't die, some angst it's all in logan's head dw. wc: 4k

Logan mindlessly traced the glass of water he'd been nursing for the past hour. The circular rim numbed his finger as he theorized all the reasons you might've been late.

He tended to foster seeds of doubt within his mind, an old habit that was built by decades of loss and betrayal. Romance was almost always an empty promise.

Logan checked the clock on the wall without moving his head, not wanting the other patrons to assume he was being stood up. He enjoyed wallowing in his solitude by drinking alone at dingy bars, but that was before he met you. Now, all he could fantasize about was showing you off to every establishment in town, softly guiding you to each bar counter by the small of your back.

The Italian place on fifth street, 8PM, you recited after exiting Logan's limo last night. Before opening the door, you checked your phone. 7:50 PM. You would've arrived twenty minutes earlier, but you didn't want to seem too eager, so you decided to touch up your makeup before heading out.

Logan noticed the restaurant's comforting hum cease when you entered the lobby. He's pretty sure he could hear some poor guy choke on a meatball, stunned at the sight of your little black dress.

You were busy exchanging information with the maître d', nervously darting your eyes around the room to find your date. When he realized you mouthed the word, "Logan," he sprung up from the booth and briskly walked to the lobby.

"Evening, doll," he beamed, extending his arm. A faint blush settled on your cheeks as you looped your hand around his bicep. He stole glances at your outfit as he guided you to the booth, suddenly leaning down to whisper, "You look stunning. I'm glad you came."

Logan gestured towards the seat opposite him, but you motioned for him to scoot further into the booth so you could sit alongside each other.

He raised an eyebrow, confused by the unusual arrangement. You explained, "I want to be next to you, if that's okay. Sitting across from you feels way too formal after last night."

Logan inhaled sharply, suddenly reminded of the intoxicating drag of your skin against his. He replayed the heavenly echo of your debauched whines in his head, silently praying that you'd let him hear them again.

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, sliding to the end of the booth.

You followed, leaving a small gap. The urge to connect your thigh with his was strong, but you tried to maintain decorum for the other patrons. Your eyes briefly met Logan's before surveying the table, noticing that the candle in the centerpiece was comically short.

"How long have you been waiting?" You asked, peering up at Logan's relieved face.

He stroked his beard, contemplating whether to be truthful or lie to save face. "About an hour," he responded. Logan decided that you deserved the truth; he wanted the foundation of your budding relationship to be built on candor. "You weren't late, I arrived way too fuckin' early. Haven't been this nervous for a first date since . . . well, ever."

You pouted your lips and gently placed your right hand on his thigh. He instantly flexed, surprised at the abrupt contact.

"Aw, baby . . . " You doted, slightly leaning to whisper into his ear. "There's nothin' to be nervous about. You already know I like you enough to suck your co-"

Logan swallowed the end of your sentence, his left hand cradling your jaw to angle your lips into his. You gasped into his mouth, earning a playful bite on your lower lip.

"You wanna give me a heart attack, doll? Jesus Christ." He muttered, releasing his grip on you and straightening himself in the booth.

You smirked, removing your hand from his thigh. A waiter appeared, acknowledging your arrival. "Ah, good evening, signorina," he beamed. "Mr. Howlett has been patiently waiting for you. Welcome to Frizzante."

While placing two menus on the table, he started reciting the specials, emphasizing the last item. "Tonight, our chef has prepared a Festa degli Innamorati. Lover's Feast," he translated.

Logan wanted the seat cushions to swallow him whole. Frizzante's sous chef was a personal friend of his; the bastard must've seen his name on the reservation and whipped up something special to embarrass him.

You stifled a laugh at the sight of Logan's dumbfounded expression. "It's served family-style, with two separate plates so you can share. It's a beautiful spaghetti dish blended with the savory roe of sea urchins and fresh margherita tomatoes. I assure you, it's an incredibly rich and unique experience."

"That sounds wonderful," you chimed, appreciating the waiter's suggestion.

Logan couldn't help admiring the sweet smile that spread across your face. He slid the menus towards the waiter before responding, "We'll take the Lover's Feast, thank you." He silently cringed at the feeling of the special name rolling off his tongue, but he found himself willing to curtail his pride if it made you happy.

The steady hum of the restaurant lulled you into a comfortable silence. The waiter soon returned with a glass of water and a warm basket that filled the air with the savory scent of flour and butter.

Logan picked it up, offering you a slice. "Would you like some bread?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." You giggled as you retrieved a slice.

After you sunk your teeth into the aromatic bread, he took a slice for himself. "What's so funny?" He asked, playfully raising his eyebrows.

You chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the dough. "You're being so . . . proper. I'm not used to guys treating dates like . . ."

". . . A date?" Logan finished, perplexed by your response. "Those guys don't know how to treat a woman." He huffed, wondering how anyone could fuck up the privilege of courting you.

Your eyes raked over his clean blazer, following the strong curve of his arm before landing on his wrist.

"You're wearing cufflinks . . . " You murmured, in awe of the lustrous material.

Logan moved his arm closer so you could feel them. "You gotta expect more than the bare minimum, baby." He chuckled.

You slowly swirled the round cufflinks with your middle finger. "So-" You paused, shifting closer so your bare leg finally grazed the cool material of his slacks. "-If you're so traditional, why didn't you pick me up?"

Logan cleared his throat, stunned by your confidence. "I would've, doll, trust me. Then I figured that you might've been uncomfortable if I asked where you lived. Best to meet in a public space," he reasoned.

His concern for your safety was undeniably attractive. You stopped tracing the edge of his cufflinks before whispering, "I fucked you within an hour of meeting you. I would've been comfortable giving you my address."

The fragrant smell of your pasta dish wafted through the aisle, momentarily relieving Logan from having to respond.

"Attached at the hip already?" The waiter quipped, noticing your proximity to Logan. He delicately lowered the platter onto the table, followed by two silverware sets and the most intricate plates you've ever seen.

"Buon appetito." The waiter gestured towards the dish with a grand flourish of his hand and then promptly walked away.

Logan waited for him to be out of earshot before saying, "I want to get to know you, but you're making it extremely fuckin' difficult with that dirty mouth of yours."

He used his utensils to scoop a large portion of pasta onto your plate before serving himself.

You bit your lip, picking up a fork to slowly twirl the fresh noodles. "Alright, what do you wanna know?" You asked, lifting the fork into your mouth.

"What do you do for fun? Besides fucking strangers within an hour of meeting them."

You choked on your food, shooting an accusatory glare towards Logan. "Okay, okay . . . you got me good. Um, I like going to shows. Punk, country, pop . . . I just love to feel the music in my bones."

Logan put his fork down and rested his chin on his palm, invested in your answer. He briefly envisioned your hips swaying to the soulful twang of Willie Nelson. "Live music, huh? I know a club around here that promotes every genre under the sun. We should go some time."

His left hand traced gentle circles on your knee. "This okay?" He asked, briefly pausing his movements. You rested your fork on the plate. "Mhm," you chirped, pleased by his courtesy.

"I also enjoy making art," you continued. Logan leaned closer. The majority of his past was dedicated to destroying things and harming people. He'd always admired those who used their time on earth to create.

"What kind of art?" Logan asked. You were distracted by the warmth of his palm, which was now splayed over the broad expanse of your thigh.

"I, uh- I like drawing, painting, making collages . . . mostly drawing, though. It's peaceful, you know? Making something out of nothing." You chewed the inside of your cheek, flustered by how intently Logan was looking at you.

He was daydreaming about making space for a studio back at the smelting plant, bringing you tea while you worked well into the night. The domesticity that he secretly yearned for manifested itself in your image.

"You're so beautiful, you know that? Could listen to you talk forever."

You smiled and bashfully looked down into your lap. "Thank you . . . " You lingered, focused on how he absentmindedly stroked your thigh with his thumb.

"What about you? What do you do in your free time?" You asked, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

"After work, I usually head to a bar and pop a couple of quarters in the jukebox to hear Cash while I drink."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of your favorite country artist. "Cash? Like, Johnny Cash? I love him."

Logan couldn't believe that you didn't make a snide remark about his "hobby." He elaborated anyway, not wanting to seem lazy in comparison.

"Yeah, exactly. I also like fixin' old motorcycles and gardening. Keeps me in shape, I guess." He didn't miss the way your thigh flexed, reacting to his words.

You loved a man who was handy . . . in more ways than one.

"You wanna get out of here?" You asked, desperate to relieve the palpable tension that settled in the charged space between your bodies. Your senses were overwhelmed again; the heady scent of his cologne mixing nicely with the smokey tendrils emanating from the candle.

Logan smirked. "I thought you'd never ask. My place or yours?"

Although your apartment was only a short walk's distance from the restaurant, you wanted to immerse yourself in a slice of Logan's world.

"I'd love to go home with you, if that's okay." You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He fished out his wallet and haphazardly threw more than enough cash to cover the bill and your waiter's tip. The velvet material of your dress bunched around your thighs, further exaggerating the short hem.

Logan averted his eyes as you slid out of the booth. You turned around and tilted your head, realizing why he wasn't looking at you. "You're such a gentleman," you praised, straightening your dress.

Logan didn't feel like a gentleman when he helped you into the passenger seat of his limo. He almost opened the back door, reminded of your first night together.

Your eyes grew heavy an hour into the drive. You yawned, soothed by the soft turns of the road and the limo's plush headrest.

"Sorry, doll. My place is a bit farther, away from the city." Logan apologized. "Feel free to rest up. I'll wake you when we get there," he continued.

You surrendered to your fatigue and closed your eyes. "Mkay. Thanks, Logan."

He smiled, glancing at the passenger seat a few times to admire how peaceful you looked.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was Logan's callused hands supporting the back of your knees and your spine. You felt pleasantly weightless above the ground, realizing that Logan was carrying you past the threshold of a doorway.

"Mornin," he joked, noticing you scanning your surroundings. It was still late in the evening.

"Didn't want to wake you," he whispered, gently setting you on his bed. The smooth texture of the sheets contrasted with the rough corrugated walls of your environment.

"Where exactly do you live?" You asked, puzzled by the industrial nature of his home.

"A smelting plant north of the border. People leave me alone out here," he chuckled.

Logan exhaled as he sat on the edge of his bed, turning to meet your shocked expression.

"You mean I'm in Mexico right now? Logan!" You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm.

He caught your wrist, weaving his large fingers through yours. "You're lucky I'm such a gentleman," he teased, reiterating your choice of words a few hours prior. Your hand relaxed into his.

"First, you followed me into my car. Tonight, you fell asleep while I drove to fuckin' Mexico. Now, you're in my bed wearing nothin' but a cute little dress," Logan smirked, letting his hand fall on his knee. His back ached from turning to caress your palm.

You blushed. "I can tell you're a good guy. I wouldn't have gone home with you if I didn't."

Logan doubted your praise. I'll force myself to pretend that's true, he thought.

The comforting chirp of cicadas serenaded you from outside. Linen curtains gently billowed above your head; the cool night air swathing your body like a translucent blanket. Logan suddenly averted his eyes, exposing the rugged plane of his neck. You breathed in notes of fresh cotton and bourbon as his potent cologne fanned out across the room.

"I need you, Logan." You sighed, slowly drifting onto your back and languidly spreading your legs. Your dress prevented you from fully relieving the throbbing sensation in your core, so you settled for tracing the inside of your thigh instead.

You faint sighs cascaded over your arched form and into Logan's ears like a siren's song.

Too many fuckin' layers, he thought, quickly unbuttoning his blazer and dress shirt before tossing them onto the floor.

He groaned when you skimmed the hard outline of his torso, gently tracing a prominent scar that ran across his ribcage. Logan leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and releasing hushed breaths.

He could get used to you tending to his wounds.

Logan strained his back to grip your legs, swinging you around so that your lower half hung over the bed.

"Can I take this off for you, baby?" He whispered, gathering the material of your dress by your hips.

"Mhm . . . " You nodded, hooking your knees over his shoulders for support. His palms firmly slid up your thighs and effortlessly shimmied the dress below your ass, pausing when the hem caught on the underside of your breasts.

He purposefully pressed the material harder against your torso before exposing your tits, forcing them to bounce harshly against your chest.

"You're so pretty," he sighed, cupping your breasts and leaning forward to gently tug on your nipples with his teeth. You bit your lip, knitting your eyebrows together as you admired how content he looked.

Logan's cock twitched in his slacks when your breath hitched in your throat after a particularly hard tug.

"You like when I make your tits sore, hm? Want me to make it all better?" He cooed, blowing lightly on your stiff nipples before enveloping them with his mouth.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head when you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

You crossed your arms, hastily moving your dress over your head. Logan paused, realizing that your shoes were still on. He slowly released your tits as he slinked down your body, his hot breath raising goosebumps along your stomach.

"Fuck," Logan moaned, now eye-level with your cunt. Your cotton underwear was soaked, clinging to the outline of your lips.

It was the simplest pair you owned, but Logan marveled at it like it was the most expensive set in the world.

He pushed closer, resting his chin on the edge of the bed. He arched his back slightly to accommodate the stretch.

"Can I taste you, baby?" He pleaded, staring at your dilated pupils.

"'Course you can, Logan . . . You can do anything to me, I-" He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your underwear, tasting the wetness that escaped the material.

The delicious pressure of his tongue cut off your response. "I trust you," you continued.

You whined when Logan distanced himself from your core to unbuckle your shoes.

"Shhh, let your old man make you more comfortable," he doted, placing a sweet kiss on your heel.

He resumed a kneeling position, sliding his hands under your thighs and bringing your clothed cunt closer to his hungry gaze. The intoxicating musk of your arousal unlocked a primal instinct within Logan.

A primal groan ripped from his throat as his claws unsheathed on either side of your face. His cock bucked into the unforgiving material of his pants.

After realizing what he'd done, Logan quickly withdrew his claws. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, doll, I could've hurt you . . . won't happen again," he apologized profusely.

You propped your elbows on the bed to get a better look at the bloody slits between his knuckles. "Oh my god," you gasped, eyes widening in fascination. "Are you a mutant?"

Logan's eyes slowly met yours, initially afraid to be met with a fearful expression. "Yes, I am. I've always had these claws, but they weren't always this-" Logan flexed his arm, a faint snikt sound filling the air. "-sharp," he continued.

Logan held his breath as you slowly ran a finger along the blunt side of the blade, admiring the way it reflected the moonlight.

"They're beautiful, Logan." You carefully guided his right hand to rest on your thigh. "Can you tear this off?" You asked, lightly snapping the underwear elastic against your hip.

"I don't want to hurt you, doll." Logan's claws hesitantly hovered over your skin.

"I trust you, remember?" You pulled the elastic away from your body, allowing him to lightly twist his wrist and cut through the fabric.

You gasped as your underwear scattered on the bed. Your cunt fluttered around nothing, suddenly exposed to the cool night air and Logan's unwavering gaze.

Your empathy startled him. Those who had gifted him their trust had often suffered, cursing him to an eternity of self-loathing. He felt undeserving of your kindness.

"Wanna make it up to you," he promised, moving your legs onto his shoulders.

The tantalizingly slow drag of his tongue against your folds made your thighs quiver against his head. He chuckled, prying your legs apart with his callused palms.

He gently lapped into your eager hole, moving his head up and down to increase his range of movement.

You mewled when the tip of his nose bumped against your clit.

"Oh, fuck. My girl's rosebud is so sensitive . . . " He groaned, lightly kissing your clit before sucking it into his eager mouth.

His right hand inched up your thigh, teasingly stroking the apex of your leg.

"How many fingers can you take, doll?" He slowly slid his middle finger inside, palm flushed against your sensitive folds. His lips were still stimulating your clit, now adding the delicious drag of his finger.

Your hips raised off the bed, eagerly meeting his thrusts. "Ah!" You whimpered after Logan pulled out before adding a second finger. He spread his digits, satisfying the hollow throb in your core.

"Three . . . I need three," you elaborated, biting your lip to stifle your needy moans.

His fingers slipped out of your cunt with an embarrassingly loud squelch before easing into your pliant mouth.

"Wanna hear you, baby. That's it," he cooed, making you enjoy the taste of your own slick.

Your tongue trailed the crook of his fingers, mimicking the patterns you traced on his cock last night.

You whimpered when Logan used your saliva to guide three fingers into your weeping pussy.

"Holy fuck, Logan . . . Mm," you babbled, eyes glazing over at the overwhelming feeling of his thick fingers stretching your walls.

If you could sit upright, you'd wipe that cocky grin off his face.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me, doll. Takin' me so well," he praised, focused on increasing the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Oh, I know you want my thick cock, baby . . . Is that why you chose three, hm?" Logan taunted, abruptly pausing his movements.

You whine, spreading your legs even farther apart to invite him back in.

"Yes, fuck-" you admitted, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of fingers returning home.

You felt Logan smirk into your clit as he confessed, "You think you can come without my cock? Tonight's all about you, doll."

The growing pressure in your abdomen threatened to burst, spurred on by Logan's filthy words. He enthusiastically lapped at your cunt, collecting the wetness that pooled near the base of his fingers and gliding up your folds before licking your clit.

He lightly slapped your pearl, motivated to usher in your release as you clamped your knees around his head.

"Holy shit, doll . . . your pussy's singing just for me, hm?" He hummed, referencing the vulgar sounds emanating from your folds with every thrust.

He expertly twisted his wrist as his fingers glided through your cunt. The new movement stimulated the sensitive nerves of your walls, earning a guttural moan.

"Oh my god, I'm . . . I'm coming," you whined, throwing your head back against the mattress.

Logan intertwined his left hand with yours, silently permitting you to squeeze it through your orgasm.

Your back arched, overstimulated by Logan's relentless attention to your pussy. You were too busy rocking your hips against his mouth to register him burrowing his cock into the sheets, a ragged growl escaping his lips as he spurted into his slacks.

"It's too- fuck, too much, Logan . . . " You stuttered, pawing at his forehead to distance yourself from his tongue.

You raised yourself on your elbows just in time to witness him savoring the taste of your cum, his tongue darting against the sensitive pads of his fingers and swallowing with a content moan.

"Mhm . . ." He drawled. "Sweeter than sugar, baby."

You covered your eyes and slumped against the mattress. Logan made you feel hopelessly giddy, and you loved it.

"Stop it, Logan . . . " You cringed, aware of the rosy blush that adorned your cheeks.

He scooped your knees with his right hand and supported your back with his left, mirroring the stance he assumed when he first laid you on the bed. You nuzzled your cheek against the soft pillow, thoroughly satisfied and exhausted.

The small twin-sized bed couldn't support the full breadth of his back, so he turned on his side, lovingly bumping his nose against yours.

You lazily stroked his graying beard, noticing that the whiskers closest to his mouth were damp with your arousal.

You blushed. Again.

"I usually don't even let guys kiss me on the first date. You should be grateful," You teased.

Logan lightly kissed your wandering fingers. "Trust me, princess, I am. Thank you.

Princess . . . that was new. You draped your left leg over the strong muscle of his thigh, suddenly needing to be consumed by his warmth.

He just coaxed an explosive orgasm from you using his mouth, and he was thanking you?

Words failed you. You decided to snuggle closer into the inviting expanse of his bare chest. Logan shamelessly gripped the supple flesh of your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

"I think our first date went well, hm?" He cooed into your ear. Your breathing slowed to the point where Logan assumed you had dozed off.

You felt his body still to avoid waking you up. He whispered, "I hope we get to go on a million more."

Your ears perked up at his covert promise of devotion.

I hope so, too, you thought before finally falling asleep.

Thanks for sticking around for Ch. 2 of Meet-Cute!

an: Their banter was so fun to write. Also if you don't go to shows (I'm talkin' small clubs, not stadiums) or make art shhhh wdym, you're literally reader?! Anyway, I specified those hobbies because everyone can do them, yay! The FBI-level questioning that usually occurs on first dates was shortened to keep this a true reader insert (my reasoning for reader's vague background.) *The jukebox bit is canon, from Wolverine Vol. 1 (Benjamin Percy.)

tag list: @th3mrskory @fairiebabey @bratscave @elflutter

[nyclimocarservice]

Elevate Your Events and Nights Out Night on the Town with Limo Rental NYC

[reallyromealone]

Title: free days

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x male reader

Fandom: batman

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, omega male reader, fluff, no heroes au, bat children are children, implied that they are (name)s bio kids

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

It was the ideal.

Giant alpha with a brooding expression and cold demeanour and peppy Omega who had enough conversation of six people, Bruce reading the morning paper as (name) enjoyed his breakfast sleepily in one of Bruce's shirts and a pair of boxers, both periodically taking sips of their drinks; Bruce a hot cup of black coffee and (name) a cup of (drink). "The zoo's snow leopards had cubs" Bruce mentioned casually, following the family "no bad news till after ten am" rule, (name) humming as he glanced to see the photo of the tiny cub "we should take the pups to see it" (name) mentioned, the Wayne family having donated a few million to help the conservation efforts the zoo was focused on.

"We can make arrangements, my darling" Bruce said to the other who beamed sleepily to his mate, Bruce feeling his heart warm at this.

The pups slowly piled in one by one, the smaller less formal dining area filled with sleepy littles, tweens and teens "Cassandra, stop stealing your brother's bacon" (name) said calmly as he stared off slightly, finally waking up a bit more as the pups ate their breakfast and Damian tried to copy how bruce are clumsily, the toddler absolutely fixated on Bruce these days "your lunches are on the counter in the kitchen, Dick remember that you are going to be accompanying your father today after school, Jason you are going out with your friends yes? I want you back home by 9:45--""ten?" "Get a good score on that test today and I'll consider it" "deal"

(Name) gave his kids their iteneraries as everyone ate and got ready for the day, little Damien and Helana letting their parents carry them to the nursery to be dressed for the day "alrighty little doves, let's get you in your outfits!" (Name) said to the two toddlers who let their parents dress them in clothes that they weren't worried would get messy, Damien in an adorable pair of shorts and a little shirt with a dog on it and Helena in a skort and a shirt that had Carmen Sandiego on it "you two ready?"

Today was their first class in martial arts, something all the children took as Bruce was consistently worried for their safety "they need to be able to defend themselves, what if we aren't there?!" He fretted behind closed doors, Damien looking excited and Helena bouncing as they and the rest of the family went to driveway "Tim, Jason behave or you drive with Alfred" and Alfred didn't get McDonald's before class, the two immediately stopping their nonsense as they followed Dick to his car and the others into the main family car, a town limo where the driver was ready for them. (Name) was thankful Damien kept his shoes on, sitting in his car seat separated from his sister with Cass between them "mama!" He yelled seriously "what is it dames?" "Oweo?" He asked almost confused and (name) tried not to laugh at the boys question "we can get Oreos after your lesson, yes"

Toddler martial arts was mainly just getting the little ones used to it, very clumsy and often times the little ones were more interested in their own feet than actually doing the lesson but it was a start "remember when dick was this little? He would only do anything if you held his hand?" (Name) said as they watched from the glass, little Damien and Helena practicing listening with the instructor and even learning the absolute basic stances, both excited to make noises and give wobbly little stances.

Bruce was happy when he could make time for his family, the tots passed out in their arms as they went to the limo "I'll be going to the office, prepare for the shadowing" Bruce gently kissed (name)s forehead and then lips as they smiled at one another "good luck" and with that they parted.

When night came, (name) was in bed reading a book when Bruce came in "how did it go?" (Name) asked as he blatantly watched Bruce undress into his boxers "it went well, he has been preparing for this since he was 11" Bruce walked to the bed and got in, moving (name) so he layed his chest against Bruce's as they smiled fondly at one another and gently kissed, (name)s hands gently holding into Bruce's sharp jaw as they enjoyed their time alone.

"I think I want another pup"

"Darling we have six children already"

"But baby?"

"Darling, the youngest two are just getting out of potty training"

"Fine" (name) playfully pouted as they cuddled, anyone outside the family would be intimidated by Bruce, though for his mate he was putty.

They weren't the perfect ideal of an alpha and omega but they were their ideal and that's all that mattered.

[highonmarvel]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

[sunny-mercya]

Wasted

Poly! Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Masterlist

H a v i n g t h e T i m e of my L i f e !

D i g g i n g t h e D a n c i n g Q u e e n

«Where's [Name]?» a question Billy shouldn't have asked Stu—he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, wide eyed and a flicker of realisation and panicky fear in them.

«Stu. Where is [Name]?» Billy repeated again, harsher this time, demanding even. Giving his boyfriend a expectantly look, brow raised, a sort of glare it was—the kind of which a parent would give, when they aren't being amused and mildly disappointed with what their child did.

Stu feels like this metaphorical child. His hands getting clammy, eyes darting around from side to side, everywhere and anywhere—even focusing on those, in his humble opinion, absolutely ugly paintings which hung on the walls alongside the staircase, just so he doesn't have to look at Billy and getting this....this look of disappointment from him. Though when Stu accidentally did, he winced visibly.

Now, this was a situation—one of the rare occasional ones—where Billy, who's normally an composed person, was feeling restless and a tiny amount of fear spiking up in him.

This wasn't one of Stu's many parties, where they have established unofficial rules to what was allowed—in drugs and alcoholic beverages wise and where they have control over everything—this was the party of an stranger, a person Sidney (or had it been Tatum or another one of their friends?) was acquainted with, from over next town.

A party, where the two couldn't keep a proper watch over you. Couldn't keep you out of harms way—and it wasn't like, that you neither could hold your own or defend yourself in dire times of need. You're perfectly capable of such things. But, for them, you're their precious little boy—which they just, if they could, would love to lock up and keep safe.

And Stu had one fucking job this night, keeping you near him. Yet in the end, Stu had failed in it, managed to lose you in this crowd.

Billy was craning his neck, straining his muscles and he even could feel a pull at it. Trying to find you in that cramped mass of human strangers. Stu, standing behind Billy on the staircase, being a lot taller then his friend, swirled his head from right to left. He too trying to spot you, your mop of (h/c) hair or the clothes you are wearing. No avail.

An underlaying panic, deep buried in their pits of stomach, sets itself free. Rising up and giving them side stabs. Leaving goosebumps on their skin and a tingle down their spines.

«Fine. We're going search for him together. [Name] can't be that far.» a string of cruses left Billy's mouth afterwards.

~~~

You swayed from side to side, trying to find your way back to the house as you wandered through the backyard, a rather big one with lots greenery, some trees and a stony path. You hoped at least that you were still in the backyard, sight a bit too blurry to tell what all the difference blobs are.

A hiccup here and there left your mouth. Swallowing your own salvia and taking another sip from your cup, drowning the last rest. Wanting the sandy dryness to get away.

A few minutes later and your mouth was dry again. You drunk enough to have your body being hydrated. More limo and soft drink than alcoholic beverages, besides a few shots and one or two cups of beer.

So getting a dry mouth within seconds was a bit weird, so you thought. Did you always had such a excessive sweating? And since when was the night so warm?

You stopped your walking, just standing there wherever that was, because it sure doesn't look like a backyard anymore (and perhaps it never has.)

Taking one step forward, still wanting to continue your way back and in the next moment of seconds, you felt a wave of air around you. Falling and your face hits the asphalt.

The small shock shook your mind awake form the haze. Turning onto your side, you tried to sit up. Needing a few tries before you accomplished it. The few glass shards, which laid around, digging into your palms—leaving bloody cuts.

Huh, funny, the blurry dots which comes flying nearer and nearer, reminded you a bit of your boyfriends—the colours seemed to fit the dots so well.

You snorted loudly at this thought, falling onto your side again. Giggles left your mouth, waving a hand at your dot boyfriends. Dot boyfriends. Another snort.

~~~

It had taken some time till Billy and Stu had found you. First they searched inside the house, checked every room—interrupting a few people by two things; sex and taking a piss. Then they took a look around the backyard and pool area, but nothing.

A few fleeting thoughts, what if imagines came to their minds. Non of them pleasant at all. You could have been kidnapped or you going back all on your own or you even going with someone else.

They came to the same conclusion. You're wandering somewhere on the streets around and on their way out of the house—passing through the mass crowd, bumping shoulders—Billy sneered at Sidney when she gave them a confused questionably glance.

If it weren't for Sidney, this wouldn't even be happening. Not Stu was at fault.

All of this was her fucking fault.

Billy thanked whatever god might be existing above there. They didn't had to ventured through the streets for too long, till they saw you sitting in the middle of the street.

Stu helped you sit upright again, keeping his hands on your shoulders to give you hold.

Billy crouched down in front of you, holding your face into his hands. Scraping the small bits of shards away and drawing circles with his thumbs over your cheeks. You leaned into his touch—a contrast to your warm skin.

«....It's so warm....» you mumbled, blinking owlish at Billy, eyes dropping every so often.

«What happen [Name]?»

Billy watched patiently how you opened your mouth, trying to form words but all it came out was a jumble of unintelligible sounds.

Billy was concerned, even if you were drunk—fully intoxicated—you would still be able to say intelligible words.

Though you didn't look too good either; laboured shallowed breaths, ghostly pale, sweat trickling down your skin, shivering—besides you complaining about the chilly night being way too hot—pupils dilating and your nonchalantly about the cuts.

Noticing the empty cup next to you, Billy had a hunch and hoped he was wrong. The bit of leftover drink in the cup, a slight purple colour with a bitter smell, had proving his hunch correct. Drugs.

Billy narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips into a line. He crushed the cup in his hand, throwing it away. Whoever fucker had done this, they would pay this. Dying a long and painful death.

«You carry him Stu, though lets find the fucker first.»

~~~

«Bills, let us go home. [Nickname] needs to sleep and getting the drugs out his system» Stu whines a bit, adjusting his hold on your thighs again to carry you more evenly on his back. All the while you nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck, moaning out complains—with a few giggles and in between incoherently talking of something—how damn hot it was, how thirsty you are and that you want some cuddles.

Stu, to keep you delighted and from falling asleep, nodded and agreed along to whatever you were saying. Giving you seriously meant answers.

Billy let go of Ben's—the asshole who drugged not only you, but also Kelly—shirt collar, leaving him leaning against the wall. Ben snickers, smirking at Billy, practically a invitation of dare.

«Aww, c'mon a bit of drugs hasn't harmed anyone. Don't get yer panties in a twist. Pretty boy is taking well, isn't he?»

A wave of anger took over Billy's face, contouring into a grimace of furiousness. Without wasting another second, Billy punched him across the face. Breaking Bens nose in process, a satisfying crack being heard.

«Try to drug him again Benny boy and I will make sure that your nose isn't the only thing I will break.

~~~

«Ya think some good ol' horror films will help our darling babe to fall asleep faster?»

«No Stu. That wouldn't be such a good idea, not with the intake of drugs. Could mess with his mind.»

Stu laid you down onto the bed, crawling next to you and pulling the covers over you and taking you into his arms. Billy coming back in the room, placing a glass of water and some pills onto the nightstand. Putting a cool washcloth onto your, already burning up, forehead.

Bill sat on the edge of the bed, caressing your cheek, swatting away Stu's hand from himself for a moment. Deciding after all in the end, to lay down next to you too.

Ben would pay for this, Billy having planning the perfect death for him.

Though this could wait for a bit later, after all you're their first priority.

D a n c i n g Q u e e n, f e e l t h e b e a t

D i g g i n g t h e d a n c i n g Q u e e n

[ktkat99]

Interviewer- Mr. Wayne, do you care to comment on the rumors that you're dating Daily Planet journalist Clark Kent?

Bruce- What? I'm not dating him, that's ridiculous.

Interviewer- You were seen by several people having dinner with him at a very romantic five-star restaurant last night.

Bruce- That was a private interview. I hadn't eaten and neither had he, so it made sense to go eat. They just happen to serve my favorite prawns.

Interviewer- And last week? When you were seen picking him up from his job in your limo?

Bruce, sweating- Private interview. I happened to be in town and our schedules lined up for right then.

Interviewer- And what about a week and a half ago? When you were spotted in Smallville? The town Mr. Kent's from?

Bruce, panicking- Private interview...

Interviewer-...

Bruce-... I was... interviewing him. For a change of pace.

Interviewer- And then there's Christmas. When you were recorded staying at a resort together?

Bruce- P... private... interview..?

Interviewer-...

Yyyyy

Metropolis~

Clark, covering his eyes- I told him that was a stupid cover story.

[nayziiz]

Witness | CL16

Summary: In the shadowy world of Monaco's elite, the Leclerc family reigns supreme. Charles Leclerc, the charming middle son, maintains their pristine public image—until one rainy night, during a fit of rage, Charles does the unthinkable. A young woman witnesses his actions, and her terrified eyes haunt him. Consumed by guilt and fear of exposure, Charles embarks on a desperate search to find her before she can destroy his family’s legacy. As he delves deeper into Monaco's underbelly, Charles must confront his own darkness and the lengths he will go to protect his family.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x OC (name to be revealed)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst

Masterlist

CHAPTER 3

The youngest Leclerc brother, Arthur, was the wildest one. Known for his insatiable appetite for adventure and thrill, he thrived in the vibrant nightlife of Monaco. He had a habit of dragging Charles to parties, clubs, and casinos when Charles would have preferred a peaceful night in with a glass of wine and a good book. Arthur’s energy was infectious, his charm undeniable, and he revelled in the attention their family name commanded.

Tonight was no exception. It was a Saturday, which meant the city was alive with the promise of excitement, and Arthur had already set his sights on the night’s itinerary. He burst into Charles’s apartment, grinning from ear to ear, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Come on, Charles! You can’t hide away tonight,” Arthur declared, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’ve got us on the guest list at the hottest club in town. Everyone’s going to be there!”

“Arthur, I really don’t feel like going out tonight. I had a long day, and I just want to relax,” Charles sighed, switching on his television and clicking on one of the motorsport channels.

“Relax? You can relax when you’re old and grey. We’re young, rich, and Leclercs! The world is our playground, brother,” Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing the remote from Charles’s hands and tossing it onto the couch. 

Despite his reluctance, Charles couldn’t help but smile at Arthur’s infectious enthusiasm. It was a losing battle, as it always was when Arthur set his mind on something. Resigned, he stood up and grabbed his jacket, knowing there was no point in arguing.

“Alright, alright. But just for a few hours,” Charles conceded. “I have some business to take care of tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit! Trust me, you’ll thank me later. There’s nothing like a night out in Monaco,” Arthur clapped him on the back, his grin widening.

Arthur kicked the night off with a rented limo, already downing shots like nobody's business. The air inside the limo was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses as Arthur entertained himself, his spirits high. Charles, ever the responsible one, watched his brother with a mix of amusement and mild concern, knowing how wild Arthur’s nights out could get.

The limo took them to a restaurant, an upscale place known for its gourmet cuisine and sophisticated ambiance. The plan was to have a meal before diving into the night's festivities. As they arrived, Arthur, already a bit tipsy, made a beeline for the bar. Charles sighed, resigning himself to a quiet meal alone.

Charles found a quiet table and ordered a hearty meal, intending to line his stomach properly for whatever the night would bring. The restaurant's dim lighting and soft music provided a stark contrast to the wild energy Arthur radiated at the bar. Charles watched his brother from across the room, seeing him animatedly talking to strangers, charming everyone in his vicinity.

Charles savoured his meal, enjoying the brief moment of solitude. The rich flavours of the food helped to ground him, a small comfort amidst the chaos Arthur had undoubtedly planned for the night. He glanced occasionally towards the bar, where Arthur continued to entertain, his laughter echoing through the restaurant.

As Charles finished his meal, he reflected on how different he and Arthur were. Arthur's zest for life and adventure often pulled Charles out of his comfort zone, dragging him into nights filled with unpredictability. Yet, despite the exhaustion these nights brought, Charles couldn't deny the bond he felt with his brother, a bond that often made him go along with Arthur’s wild plans.

Once Charles was done, he walked over to the bar, where Arthur was still in high spirits, flirting with the bartender and regaling a small group with some exaggerated story. Charles placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving him a look that conveyed both amusement and readiness for the next part of the night.

“Ready, big brother? The night’s just getting started!” Arthur grinned, downing another shot before clapping Charles on the back. 

“Lead the way, Arthur. Let’s see what you’ve got planned,” Charles nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. 

The night was still young, and Charles knew better than to underestimate Arthur’s knack for creating unforgettable experiences. From there, Arthur dragged Charles and his friends to his favourite casino, a lavish establishment with opulent décor and a vibrant atmosphere. As they entered, the group filtered through the other guests and diplomats to the bar, the clinking of glasses and low murmur of conversations adding to the casino’s lively ambiance. Some of Arthur's friends gravitated towards the slot machines, their excited chatter blending with the mechanical sounds of the games. Others headed for the roulette table, eager to test their luck.

Charles, however, remained withdrawn from the main group. He slowly made his way around the casino, observing the scene with a detached curiosity. He watched as some fools gambled away their trust funds, their faces a mix of hope and desperation with each spin of the wheel or roll of the dice. The flashing lights and the cacophony of sounds seemed to create a world of their own, one where fortunes could change in an instant.

Occasionally, Charles would take a seat at one of the tables, nursing a drink and simply watching the guests move about the dimly lit room. The casino was a microcosm of Monaco’s elite, a place where power and money intersected in a dance of chance and skill. Despite the bustling activity around him, Charles felt a sense of isolation, his thoughts drifting back to the incident and the woman he was desperate to find.

As he continued to observe, he felt a tug of responsibility and protectiveness towards Arthur. His younger brother thrived in this environment, effortlessly charming everyone around him, but Charles knew the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of their glamorous lifestyle. He needed to keep an eye on Arthur, ensuring that he didn’t get into too much trouble.

Arthur, meanwhile, was in his element, moving from group to group with an easy confidence. His laughter echoed across the room, drawing people to him like moths to a flame. Charles couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s antics, even as he felt a pang of worry. Arthur’s reckless nature was both his greatest asset and his biggest flaw.

She had perfected the art of the serene smile, a mask she wore to hide the turmoil churning inside her. Her hands moved deftly, expertly shuffling and dealing the cards with practised ease. The table was surrounded by a mix of regulars and tourists, their faces a blend of hopeful anticipation and steely determination.

“Place your bets, please,” she announced, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. She swept her gaze over the players, taking in their expressions, their tells. She had learned to read people well in this job, to see beyond the surface.

The cards were dealt, and she watched as the players assessed their hands. A middle-aged man in a tailored suit tapped his fingers on the table, a subtle signal for another card. Next to him, a young woman with a wide-brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses nervously bit her lip before deciding to stand. The tension was palpable, each decision a potential turning point in their fortunes.

As she revealed the next card, a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. The man in the suit smiled triumphantly, his pile of chips growing with his win. She congratulated him with a nod, keeping her expression neutral. The casino's glamour masked the desperation that often lurked beneath the surface, and she was all too aware of the fine line between triumph and ruin.

Her shift progressed in this rhythm of bets and deals, wins and losses. She maintained her composure, but the memory of that fateful night lingered at the edges of her mind. Every face in the crowd was a potential threat, every moment a chance for her past to catch up with her.

A sudden shout from across the room jolted her from her thoughts. A commotion at the roulette table drew the attention of the patrons, and for a brief moment, the blackjack table was deserted. She took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment of respite. The noise of the casino faded to a distant hum, and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.

But it was a fleeting reprieve. As the players returned, she resumed her role, her eyes scanning the crowd with renewed vigilance. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not when the threat of being discovered loomed so large.

A new player approached the table, a tall man with a confident stride and an easy smile. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second, she feared it was him, the man she had seen that night. But it wasn’t. Just another stranger in a city full of them.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her voice betraying none of her inner turmoil. “Care to try your luck?”

The man nodded, taking a seat and placing his bets. As she dealt the cards, she couldn't shake the feeling that her time in Monaco was running out. The sense of being hunted, of danger lurking just out of sight, was ever-present. But for now, she had a job to do, a role to play in the glittering spectacle of the casino.

She watched as the players made their decisions, her mind drifting slightly as she mechanically performed her duties. The table was busy tonight, a mix of regulars and tourists, their expressions ranging from confident to anxious.

As the night wore on, Charles’s attention was drawn to the excitement at the blackjack table in the corner of the room. The dealer, a young woman with an air of calm professionalism, skillfully handled the cards, her movements precise and practised. Something about her seemed familiar, but Charles couldn’t quite place her. He decided to approach, drawn by a sense of curiosity and an inexplicable pull. As he got closer, the woman looked up, their eyes meeting for a brief moment.

Her heart skipped a beat, a faint sense of unease creeping in, but she dismissed it as the usual paranoia that had plagued her recently. Charles took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the dealer. There was something about her, a nagging feeling that tugged at his memory. He watched as she dealt the cards, her hands moving with practised grace. The way she moved, the set of her shoulders, it all seemed so familiar.

“Place your bets,” she repeated, her voice steady but her pulse quickening.

She sensed his eyes on her, a penetrating gaze that made her skin prickle. She focused on the cards, trying to shake off the feeling. Recognition flickered in her gaze, and suddenly, it all clicked in her mind.

Charles studied her face, the way she focused intently on the game. And then, like a flash of lightning, it hit him. Her face. It was her. The woman from that night. The memory of her terrified expression, her wide eyes frozen in shock, came rushing back. His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as recognition settled in.

“Hit or stand?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she met his eyes again. The look in his eyes made her stomach drop. It was a mix of shock and realisation, a look she had seen before, in a dark alley under the rain. Charles swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Stand,” he said, his voice rough with the weight of his discovery. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, the woman he had been searching for, now standing right in front of him.

She dealt the next card with trembling fingers, her mind racing. He recognized her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension that now crackled between them. Her carefully constructed world began to crumble, the walls of safety she had built around herself now seeming paper-thin.

The game continued, but the atmosphere at the table had shifted. The other players sensed something was off, casting curious glances at Charles and the dealer. She forced herself to focus, to complete the hand, but her mind was spinning with fear and uncertainty.

While she was frightened, he was overwhelmed. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject with her without scaring her any further. He wasn't a horrible person and he hated the fact that she caught him at such a brutal moment in his life. He kept watching her, his mind racing with thoughts of how to handle the situation. He couldn't speak to her openly about it in front of so many people, so when the game ended and she quickly rushed towards the staff rooms, he caught up with her.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he called after her.

She stopped and hesitantly turned around. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she seemed ready to bolt at any second.

“I'm not quite sure how to go about this, but I would appreciate a moment to speak with you…privately,” he tried to keep his voice as gentle and non-threatening as possible, aware of the tension in the air.

She looked around, clearly nervous about being seen talking to him. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, curiosity, and a sliver of defiance. She had seen him at his worst, and now here he was, confronting her in a way she hadn't anticipated.

“Why should I?” She asked, her voice shaky but with an edge of determination.

“Please,” Charles said, lowering his voice even further. “I just want to explain. I need you to understand that what you saw was not who I am.”

Before she could answer, her manager strolled by and spotted Charles and her.

“Mr. Leclerc!” Her manager bellowed, interrupting the two.

She had to stop her jaw from falling to the ground when she heard his last name. Leclerc? The realisation sent a shiver down her spine, and the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. This man, the one who had haunted her nightmares for days, was one of the notorious Leclerc brothers.

“Is there something Marie or I can assist you with?” the manager asked, his tone shifting to one of eager politeness.

“Marie?” Charles repeated, turning to look at her with a mixture of surprise and recognition.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded.

“No, thank you. I, uh, was just looking for the restroom,” he lied, his voice steady despite the tension radiating from him.

“Right this way, sir. Marie, you can return to your station.” The manager smiled, oblivious to the undercurrents in the exchange.

Charles gave her a lingering look before following the manager down the hall. She watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest. The shock of his identity and the suddenness of the encounter left her reeling. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading back to the blackjack table.

As she resumed dealing cards, her mind raced with the implications of what had just transpired. Charles Leclerc now knew her name, and she knew his. The stakes had just gotten infinitely higher. She had seen a side of him that no one else had, and now he was aware of her existence in a way that made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

She had to figure out what to do next. Reporting the incident seemed even more complicated now, knowing the power and influence the Leclerc family wielded. But staying silent felt like a ticking time bomb. She was caught in a dangerous game, and she had no idea how to play it.

For Charles, the encounter left him equally unsettled. As he walked towards the restroom, guided by the manager, he couldn't shake the feeling of fate's cruel irony. The girl from that night was named Marie, and now she worked in a place he and his brothers frequented. He needed to speak to her, to explain himself properly, but the opportunity had slipped away.

Once he was alone, he splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had to find a way to reach her again, to make her understand. The fear in her eyes haunted him, and he couldn't let things remain as they were. Not knowing how she might react, not knowing if she might go to the police, was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

He returned to the casino floor, his mind made up. He would find Marie again, and this time, he would make sure they had the conversation he so desperately needed. The game had begun, and he was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

----------------------------

Taglist: @headinthecloudssblog

[limorentalnyc101]

Why New York Concert Transportation is Essential for a Perfect Night Out

New York City is home to some of the world’s best concert venues and attracts top performers from every genre. Whether you’re headed to Madison Square Garden, Radio City Music Hall, or a smaller, more intimate venue, a night out at a concert is always an exciting experience. However, dealing with the hassles of transportation—navigating traffic, finding parking, or managing public…

[campingwiththecharmings]

driver!jake x rich girl!reader

👀👀👀👀

i...am 99.9% sure @melodygatesauthor has probably written this (or something similar lol) but i am happy to put my spin on it as well 😌

---

You're wearing that skirt again.

The one he's sure you know drives him crazy, the one that's so short it barely covers anything, the edges fluttering slightly as you walk, granting him glimpses of the tantalizing treasure beneath.

He tries not to stare, really he does, knows it's not the most professional thing to do (especially as an employee of your father's) but...it's just so hard (in more ways than one).

You certainly don't make his job as your driver easy. Dancing and drinking into the early hours of the morning with your friends (all of whom have tried to pick him up at least once), drunkenly piling into his limo in your designer dresses and heels, giggling and screaming as he quietly drives you back to your penthouse (where the party will likely continue). If he wasn't paid so much, he might be more annoyed at the state of his backseat after he's dropped you off--more than once, he's had to have his (normally) pristine limo professionally cleaned after one of your overserved friends has puked all over his leather seats.

Yes. You're definitely lucky he's paid so well.

Tonight had started as it usually did, with you and your friends asking to be dropped of at some club downtown. It's 1 a.m., and Jake knows he still has a few hours before the club closes for the night. Deciding to stretch his legs, he exits the vehicle, shucking his jacket and tossing it in the driver's seat. He closes the door with his hip, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

Briefly, he considers taking a walk but this part of town is a tad sketchy and he's not too comfortable leaving his car unattended here in the street. Instead, he opts to lean against the side, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lights it, groaning softly as he takes a pull, the smoke filling his lungs as he inhales deeply. Jake closes his eyes to savor the pleasant buzz in his head from the nicotine, tipping his head back a little and exhaling slowly. He opens his eyes just as the last tendrils of smoke are blown away by the warm, night breeze, and sees you.

There you are, standing alone on the sidewalk in front of him, designer coat folded over your arm, soft smile on your lips. Jake starts, immediately throwing the cigarette down and stomping it out, his back going rigid as he stands to attention.

"Oh, ah--Ready to go, Miss?"

Your lips twitch, eyes dragging slowly down the length of him before you say, "Yes. Take me home, Mr. Lockley."

Jake nods, briefly wondering where the rest of your group is as he pulls open the door to the back of the limo for you. When you don't get in immediately, he looks back, questioning.

With a twinkle in your eyes that he hadn't noticed before, you tell him, "I'd rather sit up front this time, actually."

He nods slowly, wondering what game you're playing with him now. "Of course, whatever you'd like."

Jake closes the back door and turns, pulling open the passenger door for you instead. You make eye contact with him as you brush past, the delicious scent of you invading his senses.

Yeah. He's in big trouble.

Absently, he wets his lips, closing the door once you're inside. He takes his time making his way back around to the driver's side, trying to compose himself for the ride back to your penthouse.

You've always been a hard one for him to read. You've teased him before, sure, but...he'd always figured you were just having fun, that you were just toying with the hired help--that's just what spoiled, little rich girls did, right?

He tosses his jacket into the back and gets in, closing the door and pulling his seat belt on. The engine purrs to life when he turns the key in the ignition, the sound calming his nerves a little. He puts the car into gear, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You're looking out the window, head turned mostly away from him, body angled so you can rest your elbow against the door. He takes a moment to admire your profile, the soft line of your neck, the way the material of your skirt pulls against your thighs. Then, he clears his throat.

"Seat belt."

You look over at him, teasing smile returning to your painted lips as you look at him from beneath your lashes. For a moment, he thinks you're going to talk back, to argue, to tell him you can do whatever you want, but instead, you wordlessly buckle yourself in, eyes never leaving his. He nods, swallowing thickly as he returns his attention ahead.

Your penthouse isn't far from the club you'd been at, and it normally doesn't take long for him to make it back there after your nights out on the town, but he remembers too late that you left earlier than usual this evening and hits a little more traffic than he'd like. You've been quiet the entire drive, simply staring out the window, shifting in your seat every now and then. He can't be sure, but he feels like you might be doing it on purpose, to draw his attention to the fact that your skirt has ridden up so high on your delectable thighs that he can see a flash of the white lace panties beneath them. Jake fights the urge to groan, instead keeping his attention on the road a head of him.

He's relieved when he spots the familiar building that houses your penthouse, internally breathing a sigh of relief as he smoothly halts at the entrance. The doorman rushes out to open the door for you, but you wave him off, instead turning back toward Jake, that gleam still in your eyes.

"Would you mind walking me upstairs, Mr. Lockley?" you ask, your voice soft and far more innocent than the look in your eyes. "I'm not used to being up there all alone."

Jake pauses, considering the repercussions. If he says no, will you complain about him to your father? He could lose his job. But if he says yes, and you do what he thinks you're going to do, he'll lose it anyway, won't he? (that, or your father will kill him)

So either way he's screwed, it seems. Least he can do is have a little fun first.

Jake nods, wetting his lips again as he steers the car toward the garage beside your building. He parks in the spot marked for the penthouse (a spot that's conveniently located right beside the elevator), and helps you out of the vehicle. The edge of your skirt has risen up so high, he can see the curve of your ass cheeks peeking from beneath it as you walk ahead of him to the elevator. He stifles another groan, trying his best to remain professional just in case he's misreading this situation.

The ride up in the elevator is excruciating. All he can think about is pinning you up against the side and shoving his face between your legs. He wonders how you taste (he imagines something rich and sweet, like champagne), how you'd sound, how you'd look just as you're about to come.

The elevator chimes, startling him from his thoughts, the doors opening into the foyer of the penthouse. It's lavish, elegant, but also somehow understated. Perhaps a little like you, he thinks.

Inside he breaths a sigh of relief, thinking his task is done, that he's free to return to his car and go home for the evening...but as you step off onto the white marble floor, you turn slightly, waving him inside.

"Come in, have a drink with me."

Jake hesitates, and you must see it because you chuckle and say, "It's the least I can do for making you walk me all the way up here."

He smiles, nodding his thanks as he makes a waving gesture with his hands. "Please, Miss, there's no need. I'm just doing my job."

Disappointment clouds your eyes at his words and you look away with a quiet sigh, one he only catches because he's watching you so closely. Suddenly you look so....lonely. Standing there in this grand penthouse, all alone. He shouldn't feel bad for you, you have everything you could ever want, everything he doesn't, but...he can't seem to help himself.

Knowing he'll likely end up regretting it, he steps inside, his shoes squeaking slightly on the floor. Your head swivels back toward him at the sound, a light in your eyes when she realizes you've decided to stay. The sight makes something warm unfurl in his chest.

Half an hour later, you're both sitting in your living room (on the most uncomfortable couch he's ever had the misfortune of sitting on), glasses in hand and a bottle of Macallan whisky between you. Your ridiculous heels lay discarded on the floor, delectable legs curled up beneath you as you both laugh about something one of you had said.

Jake's always prided himself on being able to hold his alcohol but, honestly? He's pretty certain that, if he's not drunk now, he is well on his way. He can't stop staring at you, at the way your smile lights up your whole face, the way your eyes sparkle when you say something cheeky...the way your skirt is still riding up your thighs.

He takes another sip from his glass (which he should really stop doing if he's planning on driving himself home later), the liquid burning down his throat. Jake licks his lips, eyes glued to your thighs, wondering idly how soft your skin is, how you'd react if he pushed his calloused hand beneath the hem of your skirt, his fingers dancing along the edge of your panties--

"Jake?"

His eyes shoot back to yours, heat flaring in his cheeks at being caught. You're close (when had you gotten so close?), so close he can smell you, can feel the heat of you through your clothes.

He hums in response, not trusting that his mouth is capable of coherent speech at the moment. You smile, putting your arm against the back of the couch, the length of your body pressed along the side of his as you lean in to whisper in his ear.

"I want you."

Jake groans softly at your words, unable to contain himself any longer. He feels you smile against the side of his neck, your lips dragging along the skin there. You press a feather-light kiss just below the hinge of his jaw and he leans back a little, giving you more space. You hum, nipping at another spot and soothing it with your tongue. Your fingers find their way into his hair, plunging into his soft curls, and gently angling his head where you want it.

You kiss him and he groans again, eyes fluttering shut as your lips move tentatively against his. His hand cups your cheek and you sigh, the action making something tighten in his chest. Soon you're straddling his lap, skirt ridden up so far you might as well not be wearing it (which would be just fine with Jake). His hands are everywhere--cupping your face, slipping beneath your top, clutching your ass, pushing up your thighs toward the hem of your skirt--

You break the kiss with a gasp as his fingertips skim over the delicate lace covering your pussy, your thighs quaking on either side of him.

"Please," you whine breathlessly, mouth falling open as you chase his touch.

Obligingly, Jake slips a finger inside, groaning softly at how warm and wet you are. He swirls his fingertip around your clit, gently teasing it, and dragging the most delicious sounds from between your lips. He watches transfixed as you writhe in his lap, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted. You moan as he slips his fingers further south, briefly teasing your entrance before dipping inside. Your fingers clench in his shirt as you move against his hand, his name spilling from your mouth like a prayer.

"That's it, bebita," he breathes, his chest heaving a little as he watches you. "Take what you need."

You moan again as he circles your clit, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, breath fanning against his lips. You whine his name again and he groans, the sound going straight to his cock. When you come, he swears it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen, your breath hitching, mouth slack, eyes closed in ecstasy, body shaking as your orgasm rocks through you.

Jake brings his fingers to his lips as you try to catch your breath, moaning as the rich taste of you explodes on his tongue. He wants more, wants to devour you, to make you come over and over and over again on his tongue until he's swallowed every last ounce of your essence.

He wonders if you'd let him.

You kiss him then, slow and sensual, humming a little as you lick into his mouth. He groans when your hand slips inside his trousers, taking him in your hand.

"Need you, Jake," you pant, lightly rubbing your thumb over his tip.

He throws his head back against the edge of the couch, cursing under his breath in Spanish. He hears you chuckle, your delicate hands working him from his pants.

He clutches at your hips as you sink down onto him, that silly little skirt bunched up around your waist. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as you ride him, your hands fisting in his thick hair as you pull his mouth back to yours. You're squeezing him, your cunt fluttering around his length as he fucks up into you, searching for the spot he knows will fling you over the edge. You break the kiss with a gasped moan when he finds it, whimpering and whining into his ear as he hits it again and again ("Oh fu--right there, Jake. Yeah, just like that. Oh God. Oh fuck---"). You gush around him when you come, soaking and squeezing his cock. He follows you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a broken groan.

He ends up staying the night (and if he makes you come a few more times before the sun rises, well, who's to say?).

**apologies for any mistakes, this was absolutely not proofread lol**

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

PART 2

[zweiginator]

Thoughts on forbidden love with Patrick?

i’m thinking patrick’s dad is a politician of sorts, running for a local election. your dad is his opponent. they despise each other, even with similar policy goals. it’s all in the name of the game.

you have to go to a gala. your father says it will look good for him if his kids are there. makes him look like a family man. he’s never been very involved in your life so you scoff, but eventually agree to go. an excuse to wear a nice gown and drink champagne can’t be half bad.

you arrive in a limousine; your father gives you and your siblings a pep talk. speak to people. mingle. smile and look happy.

you all agree, half heartedly. in reality you can’t wait for it to be over.

you see your father’s opponent step out of the limo parked adjacent to the one you’re in, holding his arm out for his wife to grasp onto.

and their son, whom you’ve never met, steps out from the other door, a cigarette limp between his lips. he cups his hands around it to light it. his father shakes his head, plucking it out of his mouth and throwing it away.

“patrick. have some decorum. at least wait until you can step away.” his father is stern, much like yours. always so concerned about image, like his son smoking is a blow to his campaign, a horrible, unforgivable moral failing.

patrick is his name, you guess. he looks handsome in a freshly pressed suit. his tie is crisp and his shoulders look strong and broad but you can tell he’s uncomfortable. that much like you, he was dragged here. a token, a symbol of a good family man. one that is fraudulent.

you step out of the car, and your father is obviously amused by patrick being scolded by his father. to him, it’s a point for his own campaign. an adult son smoking a cigarette, how awfully scandalous.

it’s all so fucking ridiculous.

patrick eyes you. your royal purple gown is perfect; your mother paid for it to be tailored and hemmed so it fits you in a way that nothing else ever has.

the whole night, patrick seems to be near you. he mingles with other families, pretends to find their monotonous conversations about summer homes and investments interesting. he tells them about tennis; you didn’t know he plays. but then again, he does look familiar, like maybe you’ve seen him around at the country club your dad is a member to.

patrick’s hand ghosts over your lower back when he moves past you; you notice he’s going out of his way to be near you. he raises his eyebrows at you over his flute of champagne.

you exchange glances all night, knowing glances of boredom and the exhaustion of meaningless talk with the most insufferable elites in your town.

you follow him when he leaves to go outside. he shows you a box of cigarettes, but you figured that was his plan before they left his breast pocket.

“we shouldn’t be speaking.” patrick says, taking a drag. he offers you one but you decline. if your father smells it, he’ll berate you for days. then again, if he sees you alone with patrick, his reaction will be far worse.

“is it against the rules to speak to an opponent’s kid? i don’t think it is, necessarily.”

“shouldn’t be. but our fathers would kill each other if it were legal.” patrick taps the ashes next to his shoe.

“i don’t care about my dad’s stupid campaign.” you respond. patrick is tall; he towers over you. his hair is messy and his jacket is slung over one of his shoulders. he shakes his head, taking another drag. this one is long; it stays stagnant in his lungs until his next breath.

“i don’t care either. in fact, i hope they both lose miserably.”

patrick knows your father knows who he is. the local tennis prodigy and son of his worst enemy. he has a few drug scandals, a couple incidents regarding public sex. all things that his father paid to suppress. but your father knows about them. patrick has a reputation for spreading a wildfire through everything he touches. he’s talented and handsome and charismatic—he gets it from his father. and that’s exactly the reason why your father’s cheeks heat up as he sees you alone with him by the river.

patrick sees your father watching; he’s facing him, but your back is turned, your shoulders peppered with goosebumps. patrick drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders and tilts your chin up. kisses you softly at first. and then he’s more needy, his hands roaming the soft expanse of your back, covered in pretty satin.

[oracle-of-dream]

Your Admirer

Minors DNI

Summary: Recently, you've been receiving gifts left at the door of your apartment. From a secret admirer. You're too busy trying to guess who's gotten a small crush to notice how mad he is for you, and there's no telling how far he'll go to get to you.

Warnings: Stalking, Manipulation, Use of Aphrodisiacs, Unprotected Sex, Stomach Bulge, Breeding, Mention of Pregnancy, Daddy Kink, Size Kink

Wordcount: 4.4k

You woke up with the sunlight peeking from behind your curtain as the wind coming in from the window blew them open. Slowly, you managed to find the strength to roll out of bed and shut the window. You don’t remember opening the window, but it was weirdly hot while you slept so you figured that you must’ve gotten up in the middle of the night to open it. You swiped your phone off the charger and walked into your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face off. After wiping your face, you checked the time. The clock said 9:30 am. It was another workday, so you needed to get moving before you were late. You only worked every other day, so you were able to spend most days at home. But Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you had to come into the office to check in with your boss for the projects for the week to get finished on time. You put on your outfit for the day. Another perk of the job was the lack of strict work uniforms. You put on dark denim jeans, a sleeveless white shirt, with moon earrings, and a YXL chain to go around your waist. You couldn’t afford YXL products on your salary, but it was just another gift you’d gotten from someone who’s been leaving you gifts at work. 

    The gifts would get delivered a bunch of different ways, so you were never able to find out who was the one sending them. First, it was flowers delivered to the office, then your favorite snacks and the most recent was the YXL chain. Each gift came with a handwritten letter, which you kept. You thought it was sweet that someone was so interested in you to try and get your attention in some way, but you wanted to find out who it was. None of your coworkers were your type, but it had to be someone there who knew which floor you worked on, right?

    Your alarm to head out went off, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

    You rushed out the door of your apartment to catch the bus to take you further downtown. The bus was always a little early, so you managed to get the timing to arrive just when it did so you could get the perfect seat. You set your bag down in the seat next to you, waiting for your friend to get there. But he always was one of the last people to get on the bus, so you scrolled through TikTok while waiting for him.

“Hey Y/n, good morning!”

 You heard his voice, which made you look up from your phone. “Soobin! Good morning!” 

You met Soobin a little after you moved into this part of town a few months ago. He was nice to you, so the two of you got pretty close easily. Soobin was wearing a black and white flannel, a black undershirt, blue jeans, and black glasses. His hair was messy like he was rushing to get to the bus.

“Running to catch the bus again?” 

“Yeah, I woke up late again,” Soobin laughed. He sat down next to you, holding your bag for you as he messed with his hair. That’s when he clocked your new chain belt. “Whoa! I didn’t know you had money like YXL, why don’t you take a limo to work?”

You punched his arm playfully as he teased you. “I didn’t buy it! It was him again.”

Soobin rubbed his arm where you punched him. “So you don’t know who this guy is?”

You shook your head.

“Are you sure it’s someone from your job?”

“Well, of course. Only my coworkers know which floor of my job I work in. You need a keycard to get up to the 5th floor where our offices are. None of the other businesses use our floor, the only other people I could think of are like… janitors.”

Soobin chuckled. “Hey, maybe he IS a janitor! Don’t break his heart.”

“Well, if a janitor can afford YXL gifts for his crush. Then I think I at least owe him dinner.”

“Dinner?” Soobin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you’d be okay dating a janitor.”

“A rich janitor!? Why not? I don’t mind being a house-husband. I’ll cook and clean at home like the perfect spouse.”

Soobin laughed even harder. “I think you’d be pretty sure in a little maid costume, waiting for your husband to come home.”

The two of you cracked a few more jokes before the stop where you needed to get off arrived. The both of you stepped off the bus and parted ways. Soobin worked at a cafe a few blocks down from your office building, but he always insisted on walking with you before walking in the opposite direction to his job.

“Okay, Soobie, I’ll see you around lunch.” You waved as you walked into the building.

Soobin waved back, waiting until you were in the building before heading back the way he came.

Work was just a bunch of boring service meetings, going over goals for the next few weeks. But you couldn’t focus as you kept staring at the clock. It was always a little before your lunch break at 12:30 pm that someone would come by and drop off the gifts from your admirer. You nearly fell out of your chair when you saw the parcel delivery man walking into the 5th floor. 

You stopped him as he got to the door of your offices.

“Hi there! Anything for me today?” You asked politely.

The man looked through the boxes he had, “No, sorry. I don’t see anything.”

Your shoulders dropped at the thought that you didn’t get another gift. Maybe you’re admirer found someone else they’re interested in… But at least you could go on lunch break.

You thanked the delivery man and went back to your desk to collect your things before leaving. You looked in your desk drawer at the letters you’d received from him. You looked at each, comparing them. The color of the card was your favorite color and it smelled sweet like roses. On a whim, you took them with you as you left your office. You left the building and walked a few blocks to get to Soobin’s cafe. 

Soobin winked at you as you walked in. “Hi, Welcome in!”

You smiled at him as you found an empty table. You set your things down and looked at the cards again. The handwriting all looked the same, even like it was written with the same pen. 

Soobin came over to you with a plate a sandwich and a warm cup of tea. “The usual for ya.”

“You know me so well…” You put the card down and took a bite of your sandwich.

“Well. You get the same thing every time you come here.” Soobin stuck his tongue out at you.

You didn’t notice as you were reading the card again. “Of course, I do because you’re the one who recommended it to me. And it turned out so good!”

“What’s this?”

“One of the cards he left me. The one that came with the flowers.”

The cards were nearly written, clean, and smelled good. Sometimes at work, you catch yourself wanting to just smell the card again. You didn’t know the scent, but it was something that made your body warm and fuzzy.

Dear Y/n,

The sweet flower that I’ve watched from afar. I hope this comes to you as warmly as you did into my life. I fell for you the moment I saw you and when you speak, I can only hear a symphony of your voice. My thoughts about you are truly impure, but as a man of honor and respect, I hope that earn your affection in your heart, mind, and body with my gift. And expect more from me.

Your new admirer.

Soobin read it. “I didn’t know that you were into this kind of stuff.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know if I am, but I know that I don’t hate it. It’s really sweet! But I also want to be able to see the person and know about them, instead of them just knowing about me.”

“You want them to show themself?”

You nodded. “Of course! How am I supposed to know if I like them back?”

“What if it's someone you’re not expecting? You said it’s a coworker, so what if it’s someone you’re close with as friends?” Soobin’s voice was soft and deep, with his face spelling concern.

You pat him on the shoulder. “Why do you look so worried? I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m open to meeting people, even if it's someone I know. Because it seems like we’ve spoken to each other at least once according to this. I just want to give him an honest chance. And…”

“And?”

You shift nervously in your seat. “I’m kinda interested in this whole, impure thoughts thing. It’s kinda hot…”

Your last sentence hung in the air between the two of you. It somehow felt like the whole room got a little quieter.

You struggled to find your words. “That was a little…” 

“Out of pocket? Yeah. But, it's cool, I’m glad you’re into this guy. He’s lucky. So tell me how it goes if you get the chance to meet him.”

You nodded. “Yeah totally! I’d call you asap.”

“I don’t have your number…”

You cocked your head to the side. “How did that happen?” You reached into your bag, but couldn’t find your phone. “I think I left my phone at work, let me borrow yours, and I’ll give you my number.”

“I can’t, it’s not one me.” Soobin pulled out a napkin and pen from his apron and scribbled his number neatly on the napkin. “Here’s my number, you can text me when you get back to the office.”

You took the napkin and carefully tucked it away in your bag.

You finished your food as Soobin went back to work, he occasionally would stop near you to chat for a bit before going back to his job. After finishing, you left a tip in the jar since Soobin never let you pay for your meals. Then you headed back to the office.

You finished the rest of your workday and while packing your bag to head home you remembered Soobin’s number. You put the napkin on your desk while you looked for your phone, which somehow ended up in the drawer where you kept the other cards. You put the cards on your desk and added Soobin’s number to your phone. Naming him Soobie on your phone, you shoot him a text to give him your number.

“Yo, Soobie, I got the number. I’ll be over to pick you up real soon.”

You packed everything else on your desk and tossed it in your bag to hurry out the door to get the Soobin���s cafe before the bus started to get there. 

You walked into the cafe to see a different barista working. He smiled at you as you walked up to his counter.

“What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I’m not here for food–I’m looking for Soobin.”

The barista nodded in understanding. “He said he had to be somewhere, so he left early today. A little after 1ish.”

You pulled out your phone to text him, “Hey, is everything alright? You’re not at work, so I’m just going to head home. Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked the barista and walked about out the door, heading to the bus stop. It felt strange to go home alone again, like how it had been when you had first moved into town. Like you were alone but somehow someone was always looking at you. Even when you couldn’t see anyone looking, you could just feel the eyes watching you… But when Soobin started going with you, the feeling would be gone. His presence was nice to have around and protected you from whoever was out there…

You ride the bus back home, alone and in silence. The feeling makes your skin itch a little. You tried to distract yourself from the feeling by reading the letters again. Your head was foggy, your hands were damp, your body felt warm, and you realized your heart was racing. You somehow popped an awkward boner that you had to use your bag to hide. You got off at your stop, the bag still covering your bulge as you walked quickly to your apartment building. 

When you got to the door, there was a small bag at your doorstep. You looked around before picking it up. It smelled like roses and candy. It was a gift from him? But how did he know where you lived?

You looked around with a little bit of panic as you put in your door pin code and unlocked the door. You slipped inside quickly and locked the door behind you. You were home but didn't feel safe. Your mind was racing at the thought of someone following you home, the worst possible scenarios playing in your head. The sound of you getting a text broke your train of thought.

It was a text from Soobin! 

Soobie: Hey, sorry y/n! I had to take care of some stuff, did you get home alright?

y/n: Soobin!! This is crazy, and I’m freaking out! The admirer guy left a gift outside of my apartment!

Soobie: That’s crazy! Did you see anyone near your house?

y/n: No, I didn’t see anyone. But I think I’m gonna lose it. And my head isn’t right.

Soobie: Is there something I can do?

Soobie: Do you need someone?

y/n: I think I do… Can you come over?

Soobie: Yeah, of course. I’ll bring some medicine for your head too.”

y/n: Thanks Bin, I’ll send you address.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. You looked at the peephole to make sure it was him before letting Soobin in the door. You hugged him as soon as the door was locked behind him.

“Jeez, y/n. I didn’t think you’d get spooked so easily.” Soobin hugged you gently.

“It’s just weird!”

“Did this gift come with a letter?” 

You nodded.

“You haven’t read it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been too scared.”

Soobin patted your head. “That’s okay, let’s give you that medicine I brought.” Soobin gave you two blue pills and walked into the kitchen. He pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from your filter in the fridge.

You sat on the couch while he was in the kitchen, filling your glass of water. The letters were scattered on the coffee table in front of you with the unopened one waiting patiently for you. 

“Soobin.”

“Yea?”

“I think I wanna open it since you’re here now.”

“Let’s give you this medicine first…”

You waited for Soobin to come back with water and he brought a coaster with him for the water to sit on the coffee table. You swallowed the pills and a big gulp of water. 

“How much for pills?”

“Don’t worry about it, I was going to buy them anyway.”

You nodded. “O-Oh okay.” 

Soobin sat next to you on the couch, letting his body lean into yours. “You sure you wanna open it now? Or do you wanna wait?”

“I’m gonna do it now.” You snatched the bag off the table and looked inside the gift bag. It was a pack of King-size condoms!? And a letter. You tossed the condoms away and read the letter.

Dear y/n,

I know I’ve probably given you quite the scare with this gift, but I want you to know how much you mean to me and I wanted to know how you feel about me. I know I can never enter your home by forcing my way in, as I’d never forgive myself either. I knew that I’d only be okay being intimate with you, in your home, if you invited me over. I hope you understand me…

Your Admirer.

You could hear your heart in your ears. “Soobin…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be honest with me, yeah?”

“Always.”

“How did you know where I kept my coasters in my house?”

Soobin didn’t answer…

“Soobin!”

“I…” Soobin started but couldn’t find the right words. “Please understand me–” Soobin moved toward you, but you flinched away from him.

“Are you my admirer!?”

“I am,” Soobin said without blinking. His eyes were full and his expression was one you couldn’t understand. “Please try to get why I did all this. You said you’d give me a chance anyway, so please let me have this.”

“How long have you been following me?”

“Please don’t–”

“Answer me!”

Soobin sighed. “About two months. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you but I couldn’t find a good way to tell you. But when you started taking the bus, we ended up talking and getting close. I tried to give you hints. I wanted things to be different…” Soobin leaned in to kiss you, his hand slipping to the back of your neck to keep you from running. 

As your lips met, you could smell Soobin. Roses and sweet candy, just like the cards. You pushed away from him, but his grip on your next was like metal with his other hand snaking around your waist. He finally let you go so he could breathe.

Your body was warm, and you were so hard it was impossible to hide it. 

“The medicine’s working now too. It’s faster than I thought…” Soobin muttered.

You felt like you’d been slapped. “Did you drug me?”

“Yeah, I did, baby. But it was just to get you in the mood, I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll take care of you, baby.” Soobin pulled you in for another kiss, catching your mouth open just a crack to force his tongue into your mouth. 

You tried to fight the feeling, but your brain was starting to numb out and you felt yourself giving into the kiss, pulling Soobin into you as you laid back on the couch. Your hand moved to his cheek, continuing the make-out session. You were in charge, exploring the dark-haired boy’s mouth as the kiss started getting wetter. You broke the kiss, the two of your foreheads rutting against each other. 

“This isn’t right, you tricked me.”

“Only cuz I love you. Please, just let go. Let me do the rest…” Soobin moved his hips, rutting into your crotch to show you he was as hard as you were. Soobin moved to your jaw, kissing down your neck as his hands started to slip your shirt off. 

You started sobbing as Soobin started to explore your torso.

“Shh baby, there’s no reason to cry. I know you love me, just as much as I love you. I can feel it right here,” Soobin said as he started to suck one of your nipples. You squirmed and shook at how good it felt. “See? You like this!”

“Soobin.” 

“Yes, love?”

“It’s my first time…”

Soobin stopped in his tracks. “Really? You’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, tears running down your face. “I do like you, but this isn’t how I wanted things. This isn’t right.”

Soobin moved back up to your face, cupping it with both his hands. “I’m so sorry baby. I wasn’t considerate, was I?” Soobin kissed the tears on your face, tasting their saltiness. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am, can you forgive me? Daddy’s really sorry.”

You cried more, your body shaking like a leaf in his hands.

“Daddy promises he’ll take care of you. Forever, and whatever you want, you can have. Just promise to be my baby. I promise I’ll never do something like this again…”

You covered your face, wiping your face. 

“No, no, let me see you. Please, baby. Let me look in your eyes to show you how much I mean it.”

Soobin lifts you up, sitting you on his lap and holding you close to him. His large hands take yours and he looks deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry Daddy used tricks to get you, baby. If you forgive me, I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll buy you anything. And I’ll make sure I take care of you, always. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You didn’t know if it was the pills or Soobin’s look, but your heart melted at his eyes looking into yours. Your crying slowed to hiccuping and sobbing.

“There you are.” Soobin hugged you tighter. “I’ll do it right this time. Do you want to continue, baby?”

You couldn’t fight it. The way “baby” rolled off his lips did something to you. You gave in and nodded slowly. “Please, keep going…”

Soobin’s smile was bright and kind. He stripped off his shirt, and pulled you more onto his pelvis, letting you feel his cock under you. “You’re body is doing this to me. Do you feel it?” Soobin slowly shifted his hips up into you, making sure to poke you with his dick.

You nodded.

“Daddy’s gonna put that in you.”

You shivered at his words.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you…” Soobin laid you on your stomach and slid your pants off you. 

You heard a box opening and some clothes shuffling. You get impatient and turn over onto your back to see Soobin naked, you looked down to see his intimidating cock. The tip was swollen and red, begging to enter you while precum was leaking down the veins of it. Soobin was holding the box of condoms with one of them in his mouth.

“Am I making you wait too long, baby?” He looked down. “Don’t be scared, I’ll be easy with you.” Soobin brought out lube from his bag and coats his cock. “I’m guessing you’re not prepared, but I think I can handle that easily.” Soobin started coating two of his long fingers.

You took the bottle from him. “I can do it myself.” You sat up, but Soobin held you down.

“Nope. I’m taking care of you, so no extra work from you.” He smiled evilly before kissing you again. While distracted he slipped his fingers in together.

Your eyes rolled in your skull. “Holy–” 

“See? Isn’t it better when I do it?” Soobin swirled and stretched you with speed and ease, making you squirm under him while he held you down. But Soobin smiled more when you suddenly screamed in pleasure, telling him he found what he was looking for. “Say it.” 

You looked at him with confusion. “Say what.”

“Call me, Daddy, baby. I just wanna hear you say it.” Soobin hit the spot again.

“Oh, god. Please, again.”

“Again, what?” Soobin started thrusting his fingers but avoided hitting your spot again.

“Please Daddy, I–” As soon as the word left your lips, Soobin took his fingers out and put his tip at your hole.

“Oh, I’ll hit it again and again. So hold on.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and brace for him, trying to stay as loose as possible for him. And even with Soobin’s masterful prep, he was still stretching your walls. Soobin’s scent filled your lungs as he started to push into you, holding your body to his. The sweat made your bodies stick together. Your face streamed more tears and your eyes started to get hazy as Soobin kissed you through the pain.

“I know you can do it. Come one, for Daddy.” Soobin whispered in your ears as he kept pushing deeper. 

Soobin hit your spot and you came on the spot. “Please s-stop! Please! Don’t move anymore…”

Soobin froze, trying his best. His groans of restraint as his cock is almost in you completely. “You’re so tight–and somehow still squeezing more…” Soobin was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to let him move again. He could’ve cum from the sensation right there, but he wanted it all. He needed it. He tried to move a little deeper, but you hissed in complaint.

“Please! Don’t do anything, I need to… calm down.” You almost mewled as you were drooling from the sensations. 

Soobin was biting his lip, trying to keep himself in control, but seeing you like this was difficult. Surely you could take him, all the way? Even though it was your first time… He was sure he could make it fit.

You were taking deep breaths, slow ones. But suddenly flinched when Soobin flexed his dick. “Just… do it.”

“What was that?” Soobin, struggling to hold back, said playfully.

“You can fuck me, just do it…” You had your eyes shut, trying to focus again.

“You gotta say it right.”

You peeled one eye open to look at him. You could tell he was trying to hold it together too. So you pushed yourself deeper using the couch for leverage. You were slow… you needed him to do it. You couldn’t even make it an extra inch before you couldn’t go any further…

“Daddy… please fuck me…” You said in defeat.

Soobin’s brain snapped at “Daddy”, as he lifted one of your legs. “Try not to wake the neighbors,” Soobin said before pushing in the rest of his length. 

Your head flew back with your eyes wide open. You had used toys before, but nothing touched so deeply as Soobin did. You looked at your stomach and saw a slight bulge in your stomach. You watched as the bulge moved and pulsed as Soobin started slowly moving, fucking slow but deep. It was enough to make you scream like a lunatic. 

By the end of it, you knew you had come at least two more times before you heard Soobin whisper. “Oh, it’s cumming.”

You could feel Soobin’s hot cum shooting into you. Soobin broke the condom and was pouring cum directly into you. Pump after pump.

“Oh please, get pregnant for me. Be my housewife forever. Our little babies will be so cute.” Soobin moved as he fucked you through his orgasm.

If you could, you definitely would’ve been pregnant…

You don’t remember much after Soobin finished. You passed out from exhaustion shortly after. But you woke up the next morning in bed with new pajamas and Soobin sleeping next to you.

[pablitogavii]

Best friends little sister Pt. 4

It was another EXHAUSTING week!! Faking it all in front of Pedri who really took a liking of Jacobo, Pablo who hated him more than any madridista and even my family who came into town for Ballon Dior..ugh fuck!

"How are you explaining your fake boyfriend why he's not your date tonight girl??" Masa teased cause she was the only one who knew the real truth..I was doing all this to get Pablo's reaction obviously!!! I turned the music up so nobody downstairs can hear it.

"He's technically a real boyfriend, you know that right???" I chuckle as she finished my makeup spraying some perfume onto my chest.

"Not the kind you let between your thighs!!!" she laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes looking in the mirror thinking of the last time I was intimate..it was with Pablo obviously..and it made my head spin..fuck I missed him!!!

"Shut up loca!!!" I push her and we both laugh dancing to the music until my mom called from downstairs wanting pictures..surely Pablo arrived too. I wondered what he might say when he sees me in this dress..it was looking stunningly perfect on my body.

y.n.gonzalez tiktok

Ballon D'ior ready💗

comentarios:

pedrisister: she's stunning 😍😍😍

ballond'ior: gorgeous ❤️

masa.babyy: my makeup slaysss!!!

gavira.babyy.girls: @pablogavi do you think she's beautiful? liked by pablogavi

gavi.pablo: omg he liked!!😳😳😳

jacobo_bru: mia bebaaa!!

gavi.y.n.cute: shut up she doesn't even like you!!

gaviragirls: she matching pablo's suit??🤔

gavibabyy: omg you're right!! pedri wears black and gavi blue 😳

I walked down the stairs in my high heels and Pablo stood there utterly mesmerized..he looked at every curve on my body smiling when he saw my blushed face..damn why was my heart racing so much!??

Just as I was about to step off the last stair, I almost fell but Pablo caught me saying "careful pequeñita" while Masa giggled excusing herself and leaving home. Damn did I really fall straight into his arms!?

After a few pictures and me freaking out every time Pablo's arm wrapped around my waist, did I walk with my mom to the kitchen while we waited for the limo.

"Princesita mia..your heart aches for that boy" she said and I thought she was talking about Jacobo telling her to stop teasing me but then she held my hand and I looked at her gaze towards Gavi. I gulped..was I too obvious?

"Mom, that's Pedri's best friend..and I'm with Jacobo" Isay as she raised up my chin caressing my soft cheek .

"Jacobo is a good boy..very kind..but it doesn't matter what this tells you.." she touched my temple and then rested her hand on my heart "if this doesn't agree.." and then they called my name to join them.

"I love you mama" you say and she smiles nodding and watching as you left with the two boys for the ceremony.

I were sitting between them the whole night feeling Pablo's stare on me most of the times. He was shamelessly looking like I still belonged to him..it pissed me off..but it also made me wet underneath my dress.

"How's Jacobo?" he whispered during a break when Pedri went to grab some water and I rolled my eyes clenching my jaw in annoyance. He's playing with me on purpose but I wasn't gonna let him win!!!

"He's absolutely fine, thank you for asking!" I sass but Pablo was only encouraged to move closer resting his chin on my shoulder and whispering into my ear. I froze from that familiar manly scent and his warm breath.

"I'm sure he's fine..but what about you nena??? I know how your beautiful dark eyes sparkle..when you're satisfied" he whispered the last part under his breath and I fought an urge to moan..damn he was good at this!!!

"Hmm I love looking into your eyes so much..but my favorite is the way they shine just as you're about to cum..holding onto me tightly and begging..papi please don't let me go..hmm and I wouldn't..I wouldn't let you go for anything in the world cielo" the more he talked the wetter I got slowly closing my eyes and enjoying myself. When I heard the last part, I sobered up..I moved away from him.

"But you did let me go..remember?" you say and he pouted about to reach for your hand but you pulled away.

"Cielo..." he said but my eyes were once again becoming sad...I need to stop playing with him...I just end up hurt every time.

"No! I need to use the bathroom!!!" you say getting up and passing Pedri as Pablo followed after you.

"Where are you guys going??? It's starting again soon!!!" he said but Pablo said he needed to use a bathroom really quickly...he couldn't handle you crying again!!!

I came out and someone grabbed me and glued me against the wall...I knew who it was...and I refused to look up into his eyes. I was so tired of all of this...I keep lying...and I just want him to let me go now!!!

"Please...don't touch me...let me go Pablo...stop playing with me finally!!!" I screamed not caring where I was and his hand covered my moth as he rested his forehead against mine.

"Do you really think I like this!!? Seeing you with that idiot when you're meant to be mine!!? You purposefully sitting on his lap when I'm there...but not even commenting on your pictures together!!! Stop doing this to me cielo...please" he whispered the last part removing his hand and holding my chin instead.

"What do you want!??" I say feeling his lips on my cheek as his hand moved down my dress into a slit on my thigh...I felt a shiver move down my spine...his touch felt so familiar, so right and I didn't have the strenght to stop him.

"You cielo...only you...fuck!!! You're drenched!!! Let me hear you moan my name one last time preciosa..I know how much I make you lose control..." he started massaging circles around your clothed clit and you moved closer whimpering into his ear until finally you weren't able to hold it any more.

"P..Pablo" you moaned throwing your head back but he caught it in his big hand before you could hit the wall smiling while kissing your forehead. You heard the audience applaud pulling away as you both rushed knowing you were just late to one of the most exclusive events in history!!!

When Pablo won something in me melted and tear left my eyes...despite everything I was so proud of him. The entire time he spoke he was looking straight at me smiling when he saw me crying happily.

While waiting for Pedri, Pablo took my hand and us two danced in the middle of the parking lot like two idiots laughing like it was the very first time we met...I missed this...missed him.

"Congrats on the award...i always knew you were amazing" I said afterwards and he stopped moving snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

"Please forgive me..I'll explain everything" he said looking straight into my eyes and I don't know why but I believed him...I wanted to believe him remembering my mom's words...Pablo is the only one my heart aches for.

There was no second guessing in what came next. I moved closer and kissed his lips as he held me tightly in his arms...this was right...this is where I belong!!!

After the event, you came back home never happier only to find Jacobo in your room with a grim expression on his face. Well, fuck!!!

pablogavi

Ballon D'ior Ceremony

Thank you for everything @ballondior ❤️❤️❤️

comentarios:

pedri: congrats hermano! i swear she cried when you won 😂😂😂

y.n.gonzalez: I did not!!!

pablogavi: I saw you did pequeñita!!!

gavirafans: look at them!!!😍😍😍

gavi.pablo: it's clear she's happier with you !

gavithebest: say bye bye @jacobo_bru 😂😂😂

aurorapaezg: I love the dress 😍😍😍

y.n.gonzalez: thank you💗💗💗

"Jacobo, it's really late...and I am..." I couldn't even finish the sentence as he was already throwing a phone into my face.

"Tired!!? Sure you are! Hooking up with Pablo Gavi!!!" I almost choked when I saw what's on the screen. It was an older picture...but it was me and Pablo kissing behind the bleachers...it was after El Classico when I wore his shirt. What the fuck!!! Who took this picture!???

Pedri heard Jacobo from his room clenching his fists and rushing to Pablo's house. Never before did he doubt, but now he was aching for a fight if it was true!!!

"Where did you get this picture???" you ask but Jacobo was in no mood to explain grabbing his phone rather roughly.

"I should have known!!! I asked you if you ever had anything with Pablo Gavi and you lied to my face!!! It makes sense what people online are saying!!!" he was yelling and I trembled really wanting him to just leave at this point.

"He's my brother's best friend, so I couldn't say anything about it but we ended things when I got into a relationship with you" I said trying to defuse the situation.

"Some relationship this is! You won't even let me touch you!! And Pablo Gavi surely already did that!!!" he was starting to get closer and I didn't feel good about it...no I felt uncomfortable...nervous...scared.

Meanwhile, Pedri was banging on Pablo's door being met by half asleep Aurora asking if everything is alright. He rushed inside as Pablo came down the stairs in his pajamas and messy hair.

"We need to talk!" he said and Pablo led him upstairs into his room while his sister retreated back to sleep.

"What happened hermano???" Pablo asked as Pedri sat down running his hadn't nervously through his hair.

"Jacobo and Y/n are fighting...over you" he said and Pablo nodded being patient to see what made his friend came all the way over here...but more importantly he disliked that Pedri left you alone with that idiot!!!

"I'll only say this once Gavi, she's my sister...she's off limits" Pedri spoke calmly although Pablo could tell he was just ready to explode...this was not the right moment for truth...so he did only thing he could...he lied.

"I would never do anything to hurt you or Y/n hermano..." was all Pablo said hating himself internally although it was partially true. He never wanted to hurt Pedri but what he felt for me was undeniable...something he couldn't let go off even when he tried pushing me away.

"Bueno. I should go back then..." just as he said that his phone rang and I was on the other line crying.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!!!" Pedri yelled telling Pablo what happened as they both went back seeing me crying in the corner of my room with a prominent bruise on my cheek.

"How did this happen hermana???" he asked while Pablo sat on the floor applying ice pack onto my cheek as I held his hand.

"He came closer and when I tried to push him off he pushed me and I fell and hit the nightstand...I just saw blood on my hand and called you" I explained crying in Pablo's arms while Pedri was ready to hunt Jacobo down in that moment.

My parents came back from their dinner and I begged Pedri to tell them while I get decent before coming down. He left and Pablo stayed helping me to the bathroom. WhenI was finally alone, I hugged him tightly crying into his chest while he held my head against him reassuring me that everything will be fine.

"I know about the picture Pablo..." I whisper looking up at his surprised eyes as we both knew this will sooner or later have to come out scared of the outcome.

[nothing-but-paisley]

As far as I'm concerned, the finale ended with Daniel climbing into the back of a waiting limo to find a supremely self-satisfied Armand, and they made out as "The Boys are Back in Town" swelled on the soundtrack, driving off to find endless nights of new adventures.

Thank you for your understanding at this time.