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gothgoblinbabe · 4 months ago

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The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fem reader, soft dom!Logan, good ol’ face sittin’, sloppy oral (m receiving), swearing, use of pet names - babydoll, sweetheart, pretty girl - teeth rottingly sweet fluff, emotional(?) sex, mild angst, i think thats it but if there’s any more pls lmk!

Read pt.1 here

Summary: part 2 is finally here! I’ll be honest i think the majority of it is smut, but if you’re not interested in reading that, you can stop at the point where you and Logan drive home from the restaurant :) <3 this is probably the most detailed nsfw thing i’ve ever written so it’s a lil’ longer than what i’d usually write for smut but I really wanted to deliver on this one.

Taglist: @deardo11 @pastelpinkflowerlife @joyfulpeanutsalad @jonesem11 @carollinnasic @likeficsinthewnd @mrs-ephemeral

Word Count: 9.5K

divider credit here and here

It had been about a month since the whole ordeal with Logan - the exchanging of fake rings, sweet nicknames and kissing in the driveway - and to everyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed.

You’d still taunt each other during training, bicker over the small things and butt heads on almost everything, but it was all accompanied by stolen kisses in empty hallways, nights on the roof spent stargazing and small, sweet moments in between. You were going to come out with it - tell the team what had been going on behind closed doors - but truthfully, you were both fearful of the possible outcomes. What if this didn’t work out? What, you’d go back to hating each other - for real this time? So you kept it hushed, intending to give the new ‘relationship’ - a word neither of you used, yet - a sort of trial run. Neither of you admitted it aloud but you knew this way, if it really wasn’t meant to be, it could save you the embarrassment of admitting you were both wrong.

As the days went on, though, it became harder for either of you to keep up the act and even more difficult to keep your secret. You came close to being caught more often, having to stutter out an excuse each time. Jean and Ororo still knew what was going on - having been the ones to greet you in the hall when you’d gotten back from that dinner party - but gave you their word that it would stay a secret. The former of the two even feigned surprise when Scott mentioned he thought he saw you nearly kiss Logan in the kitchen, insisting he must've been seeing things.

You’d been washing some dishes and handing them off to him to dry and put away, both of you alone in the kitchen after dinner.

“Hey, do you wanna come up to my room in a little bit? Maybe watch a movie?” he offered in a low voice, standing so close that your arms touched.

Neither of you had actually had the chance to be alone like that yet and the idea made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

“Hm - If I didn’t know any better, Logan,” you chuckled, “I’d think you have some ulterior motive.”

“And If I did?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon,” he cooed, “what do you think?”

You were looking up at him, your noses inches apart as he leaned down further. One of his hands came to rest on your lower back.

“Hey, guys, have you seen my - “

Scott’s voice echoed through the kitchen and you both jumped, Logan trying to put distance between you and nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck and you kept your eyes glued to the dishes in the sink.

“Uh,” Scott tilted his head, “have you guys…seen my phone?”

“Nope,” Logan was quick to reply, drying and putting away dishes now like it was his job.

“Um, no - sorry,” you shook your head.

“Hm…okay,” Scott mumbled, clearly suspicious of whatever it was he’d just seen. You both exchanged a look of panic when he left the room.

“That was close,” you huffed, returning to the task at hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and he’s probably the last one we want to find out - Summers is a blabber mouth.”

You knew exactly what he meant. If you told Scott anything, he couldn’t keep it to himself. One time Jean had tried to plan a surprise party for your birthday and you already knew about it before she could even pick the decorations.

Jean and Ororo had thankfully kept their word, though. It was damn near torture for them to keep from shouting the truth aloud every time you got into your usual spats. The sly jokes, however, were another story.

“Will you two just kiss already?” Jean had blurted when you were pelting each other with beanbags during an outdoor game of cornhole.

Ororo wasn’t any better.

She was sitting next to you at dinner one night, Logan across from you. Everyone was chatting about their days or telling stories and she volunteered you to share.

“Anything new happening with you? You seem extra happy lately,” she was grinning.

Your eyes darted to Logan and then back to her, taking a deep inhale.

“Uh, nothin’ - nothin’ new,” you swallowed, "just happy.”

Logan was smiling to himself, his gaze focused on his dinner.

After everyone had finished dinner and vanished off to their rooms, he stopped you at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hey,” he nervously scanned the hallway while gnawing on his bottom lip, “can you meet me in the garden out back in fifteen minutes? I wanna show you somethin’.”

“Sure,” you nodded, “but the ‘something’ better not be beef jerky and a picnic blanket - which, by the way, is not a date.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, a contradiction to the smile tugging at his lips.

“That was one damn time - you’re still mad about that?”

“Eh - not really, but I am gonna mention it in every argument we will ever have,” you joked.

“Oh, shut up, ya’ brat.”

You giggled and he beamed at the sound, already undeniably smitten with you. He’d never been so sure of any other feeling in his life. Your serene voice, your perfect hair, the smell of your perfume, the way you walked, the way you laughed and smiled - it was all things he’d taken notice of before but chose to bury within himself, terrified of whatever it was that had given you so much power over him.

Set on trying to impress you, he’d gone around the garden that morning and picked a couple flowers out of each different plant he saw. He felt a little ridiculous - his six foot frame and two hundred pound body towering over a bed of tulips and daffodils - but he reminded himself this was for you; to see that smile on your face that could bring him to his knees. He had fallen for you and he fell fast. He didn’t know when he’d truly realized it - maybe during one of your midnight conversations or during one of the movie nights when you made yourself comfortable under his arm - but it was a feeling so intense that he’d never experienced anything like it before. He’d never had that ache in his chest, the pain of wanting someone so badly that it physically hurts; the twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of losing you, the way the thump of his heartbeat became so much louder and faster when he caught even a glimpse of you. Weeks ago, he probably would’ve made fun of the poor sap who was acting just as he was - like a lovesick dog on your leash - but he found himself finally starting to embrace the idea that there was someone for him in the way there was for Jean and Scott or Marie and Bobby. Maybe it wasn’t all permanent - nothing ever was - but whatever connection he had developed with you was one of the only things that he thought of first thing in the morning and right before he went to bed at night.

After what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life, you made your way outside and to the well kept garden. You admired every variation of flower in bloom while you walked, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the garden in the moonlight. You planted yourself in the middle of the extensive displays of flora, nervously rocking back and forth on your heels. You scanned the landscape and that’s when you spotted him.

Logan was making his way towards you and even through the darkness, you could see the bright arrangement of flowers held in his hands. Your heart felt like it swelled so much with adoration that it was going to burst. He’d done this for you, went out and handpicked every flower. Receiving so much affection from him was unusual, in a good way. Recently, he’d absentmindedly begun holding your hand in his at times, talking away while his fingers intertwined with yours like it was second nature. He’d play with your hair, kiss your cheek, embrace you from behind, even pull you onto his lap so you could nuzzle into his chest. Even when you weren’t alone, he was having trouble keeping himself off of you. He’d place a guiding hand on the small of your back or let his touch linger when your fingers brushed up against each other - small things, almost unnoticeable. It was a stark contrast to his behavior weeks before and you couldn’t have been happier.

“These are for you,” Logan held the bouquet in front of you, pointing at some of the bulbs, “a couple of ‘em might be a little bent - I may have accidentally yanked ‘em out of the ground with more force than I needed to.”

You were beaming, your hands on your cheeks in excitement and surprise. You delicately took the arrangement of flowers from him, admiring the beautiful ribbon that kept them together. Jean had helped with that, of course.

“Oh, Logan,” you pouted, “these are beautiful!”

“I wanted to give you somethin’ nice, y’know - after being such an asshole for so long,” he shoved his hands in his pockets.

You knitted your eyebrows, “you didn’t have to, you know.”

He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively, “c’mon, none of that, princess. You deserve ‘em.”

Your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest whenever he’d call you sweet names. He’d called you princess before, sure, but only to tease you. The way he said it now was affectionate, as if to say you really were a princess in his eyes. You were head over heels for him already but you held your tongue, fearful that it was far too soon to admit something like that. The last thing you wanted to do was drive him away and lose the only relationship you’d had in years that made you absolutely lovesick to the point of losing sleep.

“I wanted to, uh - I wanted to tell you something, too,” he began, resting his hands on your waist. He seemed a little nervous with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“So, tell me,” you smiled up at him. You’d be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous yourself, picking up on his hesitation.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, standing up straight and keeping his eyes trained on yours.

“I love you.”

You only blinked in response, lips parted in surprise.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t - “

“I love you - I love you, too.”

It was like letting go after holding your breath for so long, a sense of relief that couldn’t compare to anything else.

A wide grin crept onto his face, one he couldn’t hold back even if he tried. Your expression mirrored his - complete adoration for one another.

He was staring down at you the same way he had during dinner that night you first kissed. You’d wondered since then what it was, what made his pupils dilate when his eyes focused on yours or why he would tuck his lip between his teeth. You knew now that it was love.

“It’s gonna be even harder now to keep this - us - a secret,” he mumbled in a low voice. He brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He cupped your cheek after, unable to keep his hands off you.

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “we could tell them? Tell everyone, I mean.”

“Do you think you’re ready? I mean - not that I'm not ready, but I don't want you to feel rushed into anything.”

Your knees could’ve buckled right then and there at how truly sweet he was with you. You took his words into consideration and had a realization.

“We haven’t even really figured out what we are yet. What would we tell them?”

He nodded solemnly, grazing his thumb over your cheekbone, “Yeah, you’re right.”

You hoped this would be it - this would be the moment he finally told you that you were his girlfriend, you were something - but he gave a small smile and dropped his hand from your face.

“It’s getting late, we should get back before anyone notices we’re gone.”

You simply nodded, clearing your throat to replace the exasperated sigh you were about to let out.

You followed him on the way back, mind racing for the entirety of the short walk and drowning out anything Logan was saying. You wondered if he’d ever ask you that one question at all. Maybe he’d said he loved you to keep you hanging on, wrapped around his finger. Maybe it was meant to be casual and you’d misunderstood.

But there was a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You’d fallen asleep on his chest more times than you could count, held hands at any moment you could and he did just tell you he loved you. So, maybe he did mean it.

As you snuck down the hallway to your bedroom with the arrangement of flowers, you wondered how long you’d have to keep this a secret.

Unbeknownst to you, it wouldn't be much longer.

It all came to a head when the team decided to go out to dinner together, settling on some chain restaurant. You’d coincidentally ended up next to Logan in the large booth, the both of you on the very end of the table. You were all reading from the menus and Marie piped up from across the table.

“Honey, do you wanna switch seats?”

She was talking to you. You didn't look up from the laminated paper in your hands, responding automatically without a second thought.

“Nah, I'm fine.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked at Bobby, who only shrugged. You two never sat next to each other, usually bickering so intensely that you’d be asked to shut up or leave the table.

The unusual interaction was soon forgotten when your drinks were brought over, the waitress placing them in front of each of you. She was pretty and her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Logan being on the very end made him the closest in proximity to her and you being so close meant that you could hear her hushed voice when she leaned down before she walked away.

“And here, this is for you.”

She slid a napkin onto the table, your eyes automatically drawn to the movement. There was a clear phone number written in ink, her name scribbled underneath next to a smiley face.

Everyone at the table had noticed the interaction and waited for Logan to speak after she walked away. Instead, they watched in curiosity as he silently slid the napkin under his drink, the ink bleeding immediately from the condensation on the outside of his glass.

“Okay, what's up with you?” Scott questioned from across the table.

Logan raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know, what's up with you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marie chimed in then, leaning forward with her elbows on the table to interrogate him, “you always take girls’ numbers when they give ‘em to you. Why not hers?”

He shrugged, “just not interested.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Watch the language, kid.”

“Whatever, you’re so full of it!”

You pretended to be uninterested in the conversation, folding your napkin into unrecognizable shapes.

“You know what? I think you might be in love,” she giggled, “you’ve been way too happy lately. Like, absurdly happy.”

You froze in place, gwaning on your bottom lip.

It was true, though. He was waking up early, smiling more, making more jokes that weren’t at Scott’s expense - they really had never seen him so happy.

“Um,” he hesitated for a second when you stole a glance at him. He was smiling to himself already.

“I guess you could say that.”

Everyone turned to stare at him in mild disbelief, including you.

“What? I was just kidding! Oh my god, you didn’t tell us?” Marie exclaimed, “spill it!”

Jean and Ororo were smiling wide behind their hands and exchanging knowing looks.

“Well, she’s real pretty,” he started, “and she’s sweet.”

You were trying so hard to fight a smile, covering your mouth with your fist as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“I never thought i’d hear you talk about someone like that,” Marie knitted her eyebrows and stuck out her bottom lip - the kind of face you’d make when a kid confesses their first crush.

Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed, a grin stuck on his face. Marie was still asking questions, determined to not let the topic go till she knew every detail.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Logan was nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looked like he was thinking of an answer.

“Uh… I don’t know. I haven’t really asked her.”

You must have been pink all the way to the tips of your ears. You brought your glass of water to your lips, hoping it would help cool your face.

“Why not?”

Marie was really not gonna let this go and you dreaded to hear the answer come out of his mouth.

Logan sighed, picking at the skin around his fingernails as a nervous habit.

“Just a little nervous, I guess. I don’t wanna screw it up.”

“A girl that makes you nervous? When do we get to meet her?”

Your eyes were stuck on the wood grain of the table, both of your hands covering half your face at this point.

“When the time is right,” he responded, taking a sip of his drink.

Ororo rolled her eyes.

You’d all finished eating a good while later and the check came. After you’d both put cash down, he mumbled under his breath with his hand shielding his mouth.

“Meet me outside in a second, okay?”

He slipped out of his seat and you watched him disappear around the corner.

No one had noticed him leave his seat, too engrossed in conversation. After a minute or two, you muttered something about using the bathroom before you left the table and swiftly made your way back to the entrance you had come in through. It was starting to rain a little, barely drizzling.

Logan was standing in the parking lot with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He beckoned you over when he saw you, taking your hand in his and leading you to a spot outside that wasn’t directly in front of the door. His nose was starting to turn pink from the cold evening air and your cheeks were doing the same.

“So,” he swallowed hard, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I guess it’s about time I asked you, huh?”

“Ask me what?’

You were smiling so wide that your face ached. You knew exactly what, but of course you wanted to hear him say it.

His expression mirrored yours and he let go of one of your hands so he could cup your face.

“Would you be my girl?”

It may have been a little juvenile - the teasing, the hiding, the avoidance of labeling what you had - but it had worked.

“I already am,” you told him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He happily reciprocated, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you even closer.

If either of you had taken a second to look around you first , you would’ve spotted the rest of the team turning the corner the second you kissed him.

“No way!”

Marie’s squeal echoed through the parking lot and both of you jumped, turning towards the sound. You both stood in stunned silence, Logan’s arms still locked around your waist.

“Uh…” He was like a deer in headlights.

“I should’ve guessed,” Scott clicked his tongue, irritated that he hadn’t figured you out sooner.

“Guessed what? We’re - uh, we were just - “ Logan shot you a look, hoping you’d be able to think of something on the spot - even with his arms still locked around you. You could’ve squirmed out of his hold, made some unconvincing excuse about having something in your eye and needing his help. You almost did. Looking up at him, his features highlighted by the flood lights that illuminated the nearly empty lot and his cheeks peppered in rain drops, you had a realization. You didn’t want to lie. You didn’t feel the need to anymore. You weren’t afraid it wasn’t going to work or that you might be better off as enemies rather than lovers. Everything felt like it was finally right - as if every piece of your life finally fit into its perfect place. If you were wrong - fuck it. You’d deal with the consequences later if you had to.

“Kissing. We were kissing - we’re dating,” you sputtered out to your friends, looking back to Logan after. You almost expected him to be embarrassed, to tell you to keep your mouth shut.

But he was smiling. He was smiling wider than you’d probably ever seen. He leaned his head down to kiss your forehead affectionately, mumbling into your hair, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

You hummed in affirmation and peeked back at everyone else.

“How? Since when? Oh my god, I need to know everything,” Marie was as giddy as could be, nearly jumping up and down.

“Since they went on that mission where they had to pretend to be married,” Ororo piped up, “they liked pretending a little too much.”

You all began walking to the two cars you came in, Logan’s arm draped around your shoulders. He was holding you so close that you were practically stepping on his boots.

“Aw,” you heard Marie whisper to Bobby from behind you, “they’re so sweet together.”

“Now that they're not trying to kill each other? Yeah,” he replied with a small laugh.

“I thought you guys hated each other,” Scott said, “what happened?

“Well,” you smiled to yourself, “he’s a good fake husband, so I figured he might make an alright boyfriend.”

You stopped when you approached the car and Logan wrapped you into a tight embrace, your face smushed against his chest. You giggled into his shirt until he finally let you go.

“How’d you guys even keep it under wraps anyway?” Scott asked.

You looked up to Logan, “Willpower?”

He chuckled, “I don’t know, really,” he rested his hands at your waist, “I guess we got lucky that you guys aren’t too bright.”

Ororo lightly smacked the back of his shoulder, rolling her eyes but holding a smile on her face.

You all piled into the cars you’d came in - you, Logan, Marie and Bobby in one and Jean, Scott and Ororo in another - and made your way home. Logan drove and you sat beside him, his hand in yours for most of the ride.

When you all got home and everyone went off to their rooms, Logan stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist.

“Would you, um,” he looked to the floor for a moment, biting back a smile, “would you maybe want to spend the night in my room?”

You and Logan had been alone together a handful of times, but never like that - in his bedroom. The thought made your palms start to sweat. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought of it - you’d been together about a month now and every time you’d gotten the chance to make out, you usually didn’t have an opportunity to go any further. Someone would call your name, Logan’s phone would ring, you’d hear footsteps - always something to pull you apart. It was torture, knowing you could kiss him till his hands started to creep up your shirt or your hand rested on his belt buckle but never actually get to go any further.

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep,” Logan could see the hesitation in your expression, “whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’d love to,” you replied, letting him take your hand in his and lead you down the hall.

“How about this - I'll change into pajamas in my room, you can change in yours and then come down,” he swiped his thumb over your knuckles, “is that alright?”

You almost wanted to insist you could change in his room - let him see you bare in front of him like you wanted for weeks - but you simply nodded and slipped your hand from his grasp as you walked the short distance to your room. After changing into a tank top and pajama shorts, you shuffled up to his door in your slippers and gave a small knock.

He answered in an instant, wearing sweatpants and his usual white beater. You unintentionally let out a sigh, eyes immediately scanning over his muscular torso under the thin white fabric.

Christ, he’s hot.

“Everything alright, pumpkin’?”

It didn’t help that he was so damn sweet to you.

“Huh? Uh - yeah, I just,” you stopped, realizing there wasn’t much of a need for an excuse, “I like the way you look in that.”

You boldly reached out to playfully tug the hem. He smiled and used your hand on him to pull you out of the hallway and into his room, wrapping you in his arms.

“Yeah?” He said softly, kissing your cheek and forehead before finally meeting your lips, “I like the way you look in these.”

His hand slid down to the hem of your shorts, hiking them up a little to squeeze your upper thigh.

You giggled, a blush forming across your cheeks.

“And you’re so damn cute,” he led you to his bed, laying down and patting the spot next to him, “c’mere, sweetheart.”

Still, even after all those weeks, the pet names made you feel weak in the knees.

You obeyed instantly, crawling onto the mattress and snuggling up next to him. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong.

Logan had a mirror across the room, coincidentally angled so that, from where you were, you could both see your reflection. He was playing with your hair when he began to stare at your reflection, smiling to himself.

“What?” You interrogated, looking up at him and then back to the mirror.

“We look good together,” he admitted, “well, you look good.”

You clicked your tongue, “are you kidding? Please, girls practically throw themselves at you.”

“Well, there’s only one girl I ever really wanted to throw herself at me.”

“I think you got your wish.”

You still had that spark - the back and forth quips and competitive nature - except that it was always something sweet now.

“I love you, a lot,” he muttered into the top of your head, pulling you as close as you could lay to him with your leg slung over his thighs.

“I love you too, Logan,” you smiled into his shirt, taking in the smell of him.

His hand came to rest on your thigh, gently kneading and squeezing. You already felt your breath quicken and heart start to race again as his fingertips traced the hem of your shorts.

“Like I said,” he cooed, having picked up on your rapid heartbeat, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Staring up at him, his large hand still kneading your upper thigh, you’d decided - just like in the parking lot earlier - you’d had enough of holding back. You swiftly brought yourself further on top of him, straddling his lap with your knees on either side. You didn’t give him time to protest as you cupped his face and kissed him in a slow mess of tongues and teeth, savoring the feeling of finally having him beneath you. It wasn’t long before his hands found home on your thighs, his fingers already slotting beneath the fabric of your shorts. He then slid his hands up to squeeze your ass, pushing you even further into him while your tongue explored the inside of his mouth. When you finally pushed yourself up with your hands on his chest, he almost looked dazed.

“I wouldn’t start somethin’ you can’t finish,” he panted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

“Oh, I think I’ll finish,” you joked, raising your eyebrows at the innuendo.

“Yeah? I know you will.”

You squealed and giggled when he flipped you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head.

“Been wantin’ to get my hands on you like this forever, you know,” he continued with a wicked smile, peppering kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, “thinkin’ about you.”

“W-What were you thinking about?” you managed to stutter out, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he began to lightly suck and bite at your warm skin.

“Having you here, in my bed. Getting to undress you, having your thighs ‘round my head.”

You nearly choked on your saliva at the filthy way he was mumbling against your skin and squeezing your hips.

“Me too,” was all you could say, lost in the feeling of his hands now sliding under your tank top, resting right below your tits.

“ ‘s that what you thought about?”

You can tell he wanted you to say it, let him know just how bad you wanted him.

“I thought about being in your bed, sitting on your lap,” you took a deep breath, “and having you - having you, uh…”

Your sentence trailed off, cheeks tinted pink.

“What, sweetheart? C’mon, don’t be shy. What do you want me to do, huh?”

He still knew how to tease you, even if it wasn’t out of spite anymore.

“Fuck,” you swallowed audibly, “want you to eat me out, fuck me - anything.”

You sounded desperate and you knew it. You really didn’t care, too engrossed in everything about him to even consider it.

“Really?”

Your eyes met his, filled with lust and ambition to please you any way you wanted. His lips were parted in surprise when he first heard your words, slowly turning into a devious smile.

“Please.”

That was all he needed to trail his lips down your shoulders, gently pushing the straps of your tank top down. He sat up to let you pull it off and if he wasn’t already set on worshiping you, he definitely was now.

You’d yanked the garment over your head and onto the floor, revealing your bare chest.

Logan groaned, laying you back down and almost immediately latching his lips onto the newly exposed and incredibly soft skin.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled against you as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you huffed quietly, arching your back to push yourself even further into him.

He was trying to hold back a smug grin, switching between each breast, sucking and biting gently.

“ ‘s good, baby?”

You were lost for words, even more so when you could see the string of spit that connected his mouth to one of your tits.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, your fingers having found their home in Logan’s hair.

You whined when he pulled his mouth from you with an audible pop.

“Words, sweetheart,” he told you, his eyes glued to yours while he licked his own spit off his lips.

“”Fuck, yes, yes -“

You were cut off by your own moan, gasping when you felt the pressure of his thigh in between yours. He slid his hands down your body to grab your ass in an attempt to grind you down on his leg.

“I like it when you make those noises for me,” he muttered into your chest, his hands still kneading your ass when he pulled you forwards.

You wanted him for so long that the reality of being with him had made you over sensitive to his touch. Even through the fabric of your panties and shorts, the feeling was intoxicating.

You were practically whining as he ground you down so hard that you were soaked all the way through your shorts and panties, the fabric of both sliding to the side.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he chuckled a little, feeling the soaked patch on his sweatpants, “all for me?”

You hummed, hands tugging at his hair, “for-for you.”

His hands came around to the front of your shorts, his fingers hooking onto the fabric.

“Can I take these off you?”

“Please,” you responded immediately, already lifting your hips off the bed so he could drag your shorts down your legs.

When he turned to throw them somewhere on the floor, he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place from rolling around in the bed. He could see that you were still looking up at him, even when he was turned away.

“I got an idea, scoot up a bit,” he told you suddenly when he turned back to face you. You moved forward on the mattress as he momentarily stood up, stripping himself of his beater. He sat behind you and arranged himself so that he was holding your back against his chest with his arms around your waist, his legs spread out so you could lay between them.

You instantly caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. Your head was leaned back on his shoulder and he planted delicate kisses down your neck.

“ ‘s that why you wanted to sit like this?” you nodded weakly in the direction of the mirror, your eyes nearly fluttering close when he slid one of his hands to rest on the inside of your thigh.

“You look real pretty, I wanna see all of you,” he explained, his middle finger grazing your cunt through your damp panties.

Your eyes were glued to your reflection - your legs spread with his hand between them and purple hickies darkening on your chest. Logan was staring at your reflection too, his mouth still working on your neck.

“Look at you, all spread out for me,” he mumbled into your ear, “so fucking gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. If he kept saying all those filthy things, it wasn't going to take long before you were coming apart in his arms.

You shivered when his fingers hooked around the wet crotch of your underwear and moved it to the side.

You could hear him swear under his breath from behind you, his fingers barely grazing your heat.

“God, Logan,” you were squirming, trying to push your hips towards his hand, “you’re gonna make me beg?”

You could see him smirk into your shoulder in the mirror, “you know what?”

He moved his hands to drag your panties off, nearly tearing them in the process.

“Yeah, I am.”

He let his head fall back to rest on the headboard, lidded eyes staring into your reflection while his hands laid still on the outside of your hips - even farther away from where you wanted him. He really wasn’t going to move an inch until he heard you beg for it, though he couldn’t help himself from digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

You groaned in frustration, “Fucking hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

His lips grazed your earlobe and you wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look on his face, “Now, c’mon, baby. Beg.”

You moved your hands behind you so you could thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Fuck, please, Logan - need you.”

“Need me how?”

He really was an asshole.

“Need your hands - need your fingers, please,” you groaned.

“I don’t know, you think you’ve been a good girl? Think you deserve it?”

You would’ve been pissed at him had he not turned you on beyond belief. You gave in, becoming putty in his arms.

“ ‘m good - been good for you,” you whined, using one of your hands on his to try and move it between your legs, “please.”

He sighed, returning his hand back to the hot skin of your inner thigh, “Shit, need me that bad? Huh, pretty girl?”

You were so worked up you could have cried from his teasing. You nodded eagerly, attempting to clamp your thighs together to force his hand to at least graze your cunt that was dripping onto his sheets.

He clicked his tongue and used his strong hands on the inside of your thighs to spread your legs again, “Gotta keep ‘em open for me, sweetheart.”

He dragged two of his fingers between your folds, messily toying with you. You gasped, gripping his arm and inadvertently leaving imprints from your fingernails.

“So fucking wet,” he huffed, gaze glued to the reflection of your spread legs in the mirror, “Pretty pussy’s all mine.”

You were already whimpering and moaning from the slightest touch.

“ ‘s yours - fuck, I‘m-I’m yours,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

He hummed in agreement, his fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please, please, please,” you whined, trying to push your hips forward.

“I think you’ve been real good, angel,” he was slipping his fingers further into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “think you deserve it.”

You were whining and whimpering so loud that you were sure someone had to have heard you by now. You couldn’t help the noises slipping from your mouth, feeling like you’d black out just from the sight of Logan’s fingers slipping between your swollen lips and into your cunt.

When he finally thrusted his fingers into you all the way down to his knuckles, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle what you knew would be a pornographically loud moan.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing at your wrist to tug your hand away.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he panted into your ear, curling his fingers inside you, “wanna hear you - want everyone to know who’s makin’ you feel good like this.”

His thumb started to draw circles around your clit in rhythm with the movement of his fingers and you could feel the pressure in your stomach starting to build.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his jaw hung open while he watched his fingers disappear inside you over and over again with ease, “takin’ my fingers so well. I think you’d take somethin’ else real well, too.”

The intent of his words nearly drove you over the edge, your mind unable to stop conjuring up images of what it would be like when he finally did fill you like you’d wanted him to.

“Logan, Logan, I’m -,” you groaned, so close to finally coming on his fingers.

Until he slipped them out of you and pulled his hand away completely.

You choked out a sob, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration.

“I’m gonna let you finish, don’t worry,” he promised. You watched him suck his fingers clean before he used his arm around you to rearrange you both so that he was laying on his back and you were facing him with your legs straddling his torso. You could feel his erection poking at your ass and you licked your lips when you imagined being able to take him in your mouth, letting him fuck your throat to the point that your chin and the base of his cock were coated in your drool.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Logan’s voice brought you out of thought and you let him guide your legs up until your knees were on either side of your head.

You looked down at him in curiosity, not yet understanding what it was he wanted to do.

Noticing your expression, he wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull your dripping pussy closer to his mouth.

“I’m gonna let you finish, baby, but it’s gotta be on my mouth. Sit.”

“You…” you hesitated for a second, feeling your face redden, “you want me to sit on your face? What if I crush you? Or suffocate you?’’

He chuckled at your concern, lovingly caressing your thighs, “You won’t, trust me. It’ll feel good, I promise. Besides, If you did suffocate me? I don’t think I’d wanna go any other way.”

You laughed nervously and let him pull you down further, sinking onto his face. His tongue swiped up your folds and you gripped the headboard so you wouldn’t fall forward.

“Jesus, Logan,” you gasped, your other hand gripping his hair, “feels so fucking good.”

“Uh-huh, told you, princess. Jus’ lemme take care of you,” he mumbled into your pussy, eating you like he was starved. He moved his head back and forth and up and down to lick every inch of you he could.

“I think I would’ve - ah, would’ve said somethin’ to you much sooner if I knew you could do this,” you joked a little, your small chuckle turning into a gasp when he slipped his tongue even further down so he was inside you. He hummed into you, his nose nudging against your clit. You began to grind your hips back and forth over his mouth, drunk off the way he moved his tongue.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, “use me, c’mon.”

His hairy arms were hooked around your thighs like a vice, to the point that you couldn’t lift your hips even if you wanted to. When his eyes weren’t trained on you above him, they were squeezed shut in an attempt to savor every second his tongue was in your pussy. He was pulling your thighs forward every time you rocked yourself back and forth, desperate to feel you come on - in - his mouth.

You could already feel the pressure building in your stomach. The obscene wet noises coming from his mouth messily eating your cunt didn’t do much to ease it, either. Your eyes rolled back and you continued to ride his face, mouth hung open in ecstasy. Logan could tell you were close just from how sloppy your movements had become.

“Gonna come for me already, honey?”

You hated how hot it was when he teased you, mocked your desperation.

“Fuck, yeah,” you groaned, your hips rolling forward.

“Lemme see it, pretty girl, come for me.”

You gasped at the filth spilling from his lips into you. It was more than enough to finally make the tension snap in your lower stomach, still rocking your hips over his mouth while you whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer.

Logan was practically growling into your cunt, feeling your muscles contract around his prodding tongue. He was trying to catch anything that possibly came from your release. You tasted good, but when you finished? Even fucking better.

“Lo-Logan, too much, s’ too much,” you tried to protest as he kept your thighs locked around his face, still lapping at you without slowing his pace. He hummed in response and finally let you go when he was sure he’d licked you clean.

You lifted your hips and moved to sit beside him on your heels, almost in pain at the loss of physical contact. When you finally got to see his face, his lips were red and raw, his chin and even the side of his cheeks coated in your slick. You watched in awe as he wiped his cheek, bringing his hand up to his mouth after to lick it clean.

“Taste fucking amazing,” he assured you, keeping his eyes on yours when he sucked on one of his fingers.

You caught sight of his obvious and rather large erection and your mouth began to water. Once again, you were lost in the thought of how good it would be to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth.

“You alright, baby?”

“Yeah, I - um,” you sighed, leaning forward on your hands, “can I - can I have it in my mouth? Just for a little bit?”

Your hand rested on his hip, fingers grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, dangerously close.

“Shit,” he huffed, his cock twitching from the anticipation, “you wanna?”

You nodded eagerly, pulling his pants and boxers down his thighs when he lifted his hips.

“Hey,” he tenderly stopped your hand as you reached to touch him, “I’m tellin’ you now, girl - you can suck it ‘cause you asked so nicely but I’m not comin’ unless it’s in you.”

He let go of your wrist and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, continuing to speak.

“I can fill your throat another time, yeah?”

You were speechless, lidded eyes switching from his face to his swollen cock and back again. You nodded in agreement.

You guessed Logan would be big - he was generally a large guy - but you could feel the drool gathering in your mouth when his cock sprung out of his boxers to hit his stomach. He was fucking huge. You might’ve been nervous if you weren’t so eager to fit him into your mouth. You finally leaned down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, softly licking at his leaking tip.

Logan threaded your hair between his fingers, gathering as much as he could to form a makeshift ponytail that was held together by his fist.

“Like seein’ your pretty face. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?”

His words only spurred you on and you gathered as much saliva as possible so you could spit onto his cock. When you did, you started to stroke him in a slow rhythm that had him rocking his hips towards your hand already. His mouth hung open and his eyes were glued to your movements, watching you work your hand up and down. Your spit coated your hand and his cock to the point that it was dripping down his balls.

The moment you finally closed your mouth around him, he was practically a mess.

You took him as deep as you could, relaxing your throat and steadily breathing. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned. He watched your head bob up and down while you simultaneously stroked whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. He huffed out your name in between cursing under his breath. His gaze caught the mirror he’d nearly forgotten about and he could’ve came just from the sight of your mouth drooling around him.

“So good, baby,” he sighed, licking his lips, “you look so pretty suckin’ my cock.”

You reveled in the praises spilling from his lips. Chasing more, you used your hand that wasn’t around him to cup his balls and massage gently. He actually whimpered and you could feel Logan’s legs start to shake a bit.

“Alright, enough - ,” he grunted, using his grip on your hair to pull your mouth from him and push your hand away.

You almost looked hurt, pouting while looking between him and his glistening cock. Truthfully, you liked the taste of him. Loved it, really, so much so that you had to hold back from diving right back into position. Just the idea had you clenching your thighs together when you thought of it. When your mouth was already on him? You were so wet again that it was starting to smear across your inner thighs.

“Sorry, doll,” he apologized while swiping fallen strands of hair from your face, “too close.”

It felt exhilarating being able to turn big, bad, scary Wolverine into a whimpering mess after only a couple minutes in your mouth.

“I’m gonna come in you,” he reiterated, “gonna make you mine.”

You just about melted into putty from his words.

“ ‘m yours, ‘v been yours.”

Your voice was desperate and you crawled onto him, straddling his hips. Your bare cunt slid against the base of his cock and his hips jerked up.

“Fuck,” he panted, “you wanna know somethin’? Been thinking about this for so long, even when I thought you hated me - I couldn’t help it.”

“Me too,” you replied, hands on his chest to steady yourself, “even when I thought you hated me. Used to think - to think about jus’ getting you alone.”

“Yeah?” He teased, one of his hands coming down to align his cock with your entrance, “what did you think about doing when you got me alone, hm?”

“I - ah, f-fuck,” you tried to speak, stuttering when he started to slip himself in as slowly as possible, “letting you fuck me, having - having your fingers in me.”

“So, is it as good as you imagined?”

“Mm,” you tried to respond and only whined from the pressure of Logan pushing you down further onto his cock and stretching you out, “better, it’s better.”

“You think you can take all of it, sweetheart?”

“I need it, please, please, Logan - need you.”

You could rarely recognize your own voice, strained and desperate.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nice.”

In one hard thrust, he pushed your hips down onto his.

Your jaw hung open and your eyes rolled back into your head. You’d never felt so fucking full before, like he reached every inch of where you wanted him.

“Fucking - Christ, Logan, you - ah,” your sentence was cut off when he began to grind up into you, using his grip on your hips to keep you steady and gently help guide you up and down.

“Hm? What, baby?”

When you sat back down on him, he used an iron grip to keep you where you were, pushing himself as far into you as he possibly could. The friction on your clit made your pussy twitch and he definitely felt it, pulling you back and forth a little bit.

Again, you couldn’t speak - too distracted by the indescribable feeling of having him sheathed completely inside you. Your eyes started to water, tears forming from the overwhelming pleasure in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you nearly sobbed, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, “please, please.”

He finally let you lift your hips up and down again and you were a whining fucking mess. Logan could see over your shoulder into the mirror and he marveled at the white ring you left around the base of his cock every time you lifted your hips. You were messy, exactly how he wanted you - he’d probably lick you clean after, if you’d let him.

You were rambling into his neck, panting, “so fucking - you’re so big, oh my god, need you all - ah - all the time.”

He was smirking to himself, smug from how he was able to fuck you to the point that you were just letting go completely - telling him every thought that popped into your mind while you were still on top of him. You worked yourself up to a steady rhythm and he indulged in the image of your tits bouncing above him when you sat up.

“So good, honey - takin’ me so well, like you were made for me,” he groaned. His eyes never left yours.

“ ‘m made for - for you,” you slurred, rolling your hips.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s this pussy belong to, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours, I - it’s yours, Logan.”

Your thighs started to ache pretty quickly, your pace faltering as he kept steadily drilling up into you.

“Are you sore, baby? You wanna switch?”

His voice was so soft in comparison to how he was speaking moments earlier through gritted teeth. You nodded and let him lay you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, both cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally, your lips. You were absolutely giddy from the sickly sweet moments you shared inbetween the times where he was fucking you so hard you were out of breath.

Your ankles locked behind Logan’s back to pull him into you while he tried to guide himself with his hand. He slipped back in effortlessly and ground his hips forward, pinning you down to the mattress. One of his arms was snaked around your back to hold you closer and the other was holding your wrists together above your head.

His hips rolled forward and he hit a spot inside of you that made the fire in the pit of your stomach rise.

You choked out a sob and tried to squirm in an attempt to free your wrists, but you both knew there was no way you’d wiggle out of his grip unless he let you. To no surprise, a man made of mostly metal was almost impossibly strong when he pinned you down with his hands and hips.

“I gotcha’.” he panted, so close that your noses brushed together when he thrust forward, “you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

As if you’d want to move from your spot underneath him.

Your eyes caught the shining metal of the dog tags hanging from his neck, swinging back and forth over your chest when he moved. When you looked back up to his face, his eyes were boring into yours. His face was flushed and his mouth hung open, sweat accumulating on his brow. He looked fucking gorgeous. You were going to tell him so, try to lean up to kiss him, but he spoke again before you could.

“I’m in love with you - ‘m so in love with you, you know that?”

The pace of his thrusts quickened and you could’ve cried at the sincerity had he not been drilling into you so hard that you could barely open your eyes.

“I - I’m, ah - in love with - with you, too,” you choked out between gasps.

“So pretty,” he muttered, finally letting go of your wrists so he could hold your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him, “i’m so fucking lucky.”

It was all too much - the sincere adoration in his voice combined with the filthy way he was snapping his hips into yours - and you could feel the knot in your lower stomach start to come undone.

“Logan, fuck, I’m -,” you tried to tell him you were close, but his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you.

“God, please - c’mon, c’mon,” he was pleading through gritted teeth, trying with everything in him to hold back from coming before you did. His hand slipped between your bodies so he could draw tight circles around your clit and your eyes squeezed shut in ecstacy.

You were chanting his name after a couple more strokes, tears rolling down the side of your face while he pounded you through your orgasm. You were practically seeing stars, your legs shaking around his waist.

He could feel your muscles contract around him and his movements became sloppy. He was grunting with every roll of his hips, muttering praises under his breath.

So fucking pretty

Look so beautiful like this

So perfect

He was spilling into you seconds later, animalistically groaning into your ear. His hips slowed to a halt, his arms still wrapped around you. You were both shiny and sticky with sweat, panting with flushed faces. When he pulled his face from your ear, he was beaming like an idiot, already drowsy.

“Was that good, baby?”

He was still out of breath, using one arm to weakly hold himself above you while he stroked your hair.

“Are you serious? More than good,” you chuckled, “amazing.”

He tenderly kissed your forehead and rolled beside you, immediately wrapping you in his arms.

“Don’t we have to clean up?” you asked, eyes already starting to flutter closed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck, “can do it later - wanna cuddle.”

You grinned wide, amused by how damn cute he was. You simply hummed in agreement, resting your hand over his.

“Logan?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

A/N: I had to close my laptop and walk away a a couple time while writing this so I hope it drives you as insane as it did me! I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

If you enjoyed, thank you for reading and pls like/reblog!! <3 and thank u sm for the love on part 1!

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlet smut #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine #wolverine smut #smut

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withahappyrefrain · 5 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/withahappyrefrain/756666693791760384/yes-tyler-needing-a-handblow-job-before-going-on?source=share

okay listen 👀 tyler dry humping you against the side of his car before getting to work

Hi, can I kiss your brain? It's beautiful. We got some good ole porn without plot smut here folks.

Having no neighbors within a three mile radius has many perks.

Halloween is spent watching movies, not handing out candy at the door. You can host a party but don't have to hear someone else do the same. No HOA means you're free to paint your door whatever color you damn well please.

It also meant you could grind against your husband's denim covered thigh against his truck.

It started out as a kiss. A goodbye kiss, like one you had given Tyler so many times before he headed out to chase a developing storm.

Okay, yes, it was more heated than sweet this time around. More desperate than gentle. Your hands gripping his sun kissed hair instead of resting against his broad chest.

Who could blame you? Prior to getting a call from Boone, you and Tyler were underneath your bedsheets, his talented mouth having just started to unravel you.

Hopes that Boone was calling to fire off a new experiment were quickly dashed when he called a second time, in between Tyler's phone going off with text notifications, no doubt from the rest of the crew.

The cluster of storm cells had the potential to develop into something big, which Tyler swears is the only reason why he got out of bed and began to dress.

You had opted to stay in the baby blue night slip, knowing you weren't the one on the chase and it was Tyler's favorite.

Another perk of having no neighbors meant you didn't need to put on a robe in order to walk Tyler out to his truck.

So yes, if you were in a courtroom, facing trial for trying to tempt Tyler, the evidence would be overwhelmingly against you. But he truly started it, those large hands of his gripping your waist so he could pull you back for another kiss.

You could never leave it at just one kiss. He knows this. All you wanted was to simply be as close as humanly possible. After all, how else would you be able to inhale his captivating scent of oak and sandalwood?

He has your left knee pinned against his hip, allowing you to feel his denim cladded erection against your thigh.

"Fuck," his voice is breathless as his hips jerk upwards. A tornado is nothing, but feeling your soft body in his hands is enough to nearly bring Tyler to his knees.

Your mouth swallows his needy grunts, a hand squeezing his clothed erection, chest pressed against his.

"Ty," your nickname for him comes out in the form of a weak, needy whine, "Want ya s'bad."

"I know, but I gotta-fuck!" He hissed upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare cunt.

That, you absolutely did on purpose.

He abruptly stopped, hastily opening the passenger door. "Bend over," he hissed, pointing to the now available seat.

You quickly oblige, toes curling at the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

Having no neighbors mean you can be as loud as you want. Who could truly care about a noise complaint when the head of his cock was brushing against your clit?

When his cock sinks in, you breathe a sigh of relief, body welcoming the pleasurable stretch. Tyler always makes you feel so full, all you can think about is just him and his ridiculously amazing cock.

Now that should be investigated.

Thanks to your earlier, albeit interrupted, romp in bed, you're ready for him, allowing Tyler to quickly build up a rhythm. It's hurried, his thrusts harsh and sloppy. And yet, you can help but cling to the passenger seat

The sound of his hips slamming into yours can barely be heard over the moans that fall effortlessly from your mouth, along with the grunts Tyler grits out between his pearly white teeth.

"S'fuckin tight f'me," He groans, "Love you s'much. Can't wait t'come home t'you and this ah perfect pussy."

He's addicted to you. Your soft skin, the way your ass jiggles with each thrust, the shameless moans that fall from your kiss bitten lips. How soft you are, how tightly you cling onto him.

Tyler seriously considers calling out, making up some excuse, hell, even just being honest with his crew.

Who could be upset at a man for wanting to spend more time with his wife?

But he also knew you wouldn't let him. Ever since college, you knew of his dreams and how badly he wanted to follow them. You also trusted that he would always find a way back to you.

"Fuck, pretty girl. Need you to cum f'me, think you can do that?" One of his large hands reaches down to where you two connect, long fingers drawing circles on your clit.

You can barely keep your head up, nodding weakly as your walls clench around him. All you can do is take him, all you can do is let yourself go into the pleasure fueled haze you were craving.

He leans over as he feels your release, stubble scratching against your bare shoulder.

"Atta girl, feel s'good," his words are beginning to slur, signaling how close he is. You reach back, hand finding his dark blonde locks and giving the strands a harsh tug.

The whine Tyler lets out is music to your ears. It just takes one, two, three more sharp tugs for his hips to stutter, his release trailing behind yours.

His body covers yours and for a moment you two simply stay like that, breathing heavily.

"Hey, com're," His voice is now soft, gentle, his longer fingers cupping your chin so he could turn your face towards his.

Thin pink lips crash onto yours, the gesture a stark contrast to what occurred several minutes ago.

"Love ya," he confesses between kisses. Despite having heard it multiple times a day, it still makes your heart flutter.

"Love ya too cowboy," you smile against his lips, "But you should get goin'. Don't wanna be late."

Tyler shrugged, "You know how long it takes them to get ready. Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't help my wife clean up?"

If Boone asks if you were the reason Tyler was an hour late, you would happily plead guilty.

#my writing #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens twisters #twisters 2024 #glen powell #tyler owens smut #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x y/n #twisters #twistets fanfic #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic

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megamindsecretlair · 8 days ago

Text

I Need Your Lips On Mine

Pairing: Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), PIV, oral (male receiving), Use of pet names, (Big Daddy and baby), use of sex toy, bratty and yandere reader. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: While Terry’s away on a special teaching assignment, you decide to be a little gremlin and not listen to him. You wear your sexiest dress out with your girlfriends to a rooftop bar. But Terry comes home early to ring in the New Year’s with you in a very special way.

Word Count: 7,111k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Ya'll don't ask about this man no more!! I cannot control myself around this man, I just can't. I'm not strong enough! Request from @prettyisasprettydoes1306. Happy 2025, my loves. Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Big Daddy 🤪 Calling…

Your music dimmed as Terry’s incoming call flashed across your screen. You put the finishing touches on your makeup and hurried to swipe to answer.

“Hey Big Daddy,” you sing.

“Hey baby,” Terry said with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, immediately picking up on his tone.

“Miss you,” he said.

You couldn’t help pinching your lips together, trying so hard not to cheese out. You looked at yourself in the mirror, at the goofy lovesick smile on your face. You drove your friends wild, but you were down bad for your man.

Just for the silly, little things he did. And moments when he seemed able to read your mind. “Miss you. When you coming home? It’s New Year’s,” you pouted.

“I know. I’m still trying. Don’t give up on me,” he said.

“Never,” you said with a giggle. “I know you’re busy.”

“You almost done getting ready for the party with your girls?” He asked.

You spread a bold pink gloss across your lips and then used your finger to clean up the excess or areas you went too heavy on. You leaned away from the vanity, turning one way and then the other.

Your long fitted cami dress looked painted on your body. It had a swirl of pink, purple, red, and brown like an abstract painting that stopped just above your ankles. But the top barely covered your girls. Just how you liked it.

You had paired it with a necklace Terry bought you for your birthday, the pendant dipping between your boobs to draw eyes there. The spaghetti straps fit snug on your shoulders but not tight. It was a dress almost literally made for you.

“All done. Wanna see?” You said, lowering your voice.

Terry shuffled on the other side of the phone. He sniffed as he moved before he settled down. “Show me,” he said.

You swiped to put him on video. His face took up the screen before he pulled back with a smirk. God, that man was fucking beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. He was your favorite painting, your sweetest song, and your most comforting book. He oozed comfort and made you want to sink into his big arms whenever he was around.

You turned from side to side so that he could see the dress in its entirety and how it fit on you. “You like?”

Terry tilted his head. “Isn’t that the dress I got you for your birthday one year?” He asked.

“Yes! Looks good, huh?” You asked. You posed as you turned, modeling for him. When he didn’t say anything, you stopped and stepped closer to the phone.

“Baby,” he said. Uh oh. When he hit you with that tone, he was about to be a big ole meanie.

“Yes, Big Daddy?” You asked.

“You know I don’t like you wearing that dress unless I’m around,” he said. His eyes dipped further and further lower and you followed his eyesight.

With the phone on the vanity and you leaning over, he had a perfect view down your dress. Your pendant swung freely and you giggled, pressing it back against your heated skin.

“You so nasty,” you said and giggled. “And I know. But we’re going out and I wanted to feel sexy. I like wearing things you give me.”

“That makes me happy to hear, baby. But you look too good in that dress. And I’m not there to make sure no one messes with you,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “I’d never leave the house if that was the case, Terry,” you said. You closed your eyes and sighed.

“What you call me?” Terry asked.

You peeked just as you saw Terry stand up. You didn’t know what top secret villain lair he was currently in, having been called away to teach a special MCMAP class at a different base, but he was good and agitated now.

He ducked his head as he walked off somewhere, nothing but empty night sky behind him. You wished you were with him, on a blanket somewhere, looking up at the sky while he ate you out.

Terry’s soft grunts pulled you from your nasty thoughts as he finally stopped. Low, fluorescent light fell across his face. His eyebrows were arched and his eyes were narrowed.

“You wanna run that again?” He asked, his accent getting thicker with his tone.

“I love you, Big Daddy,” you said sweetly, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re the kindest, most wonderful, most amazing Big Daddy a girl could ask for.”

Terry shook his head. “Try again.”

You pouted and prepared yourself to apologize. But then the gremlin on your shoulder made an appearance. You absolutely, positively did not need to mess with your boyfriend. You absolutely did not want to make him mad. But ugh, you missed him.

This was one of the longest times he’d been away and you did not sign up for a long distance relationship. He wasn’t here at the moment….and being on the phone made you a little bolder.

You smiled. “What ya gonna do if I don’t?” You asked, tone as sweet as tea on a hot day.

Terry’s expression changed fraction by fraction. His frown disappeared as a self-pleased smirk took over. “Think very carefully about your next words,” he said quietly.

That probably should’ve been your first clue to stop playing with that man. But when your inner gremlin took over, there was just no stopping her. Consequences be damned. He must secretly like when you got this way, because he delivered on the goods tenfold whenever he finally got his hands on you. Your pussy throbbed thinking of the last time.

At the moment, he wasn’t set to come back until later in the week. By then, your gremlin would have gone on vacation and you would be back to your sweet self. But when you were in a party mood? And Big Daddy wasn’t around? You tended to show your entire ass.

You stared at Terry’s gorgeous face, at the tempest in his eyes promising you won’t sit right for a week. His right eyebrow curved upward in a challenge. Make that two weeks. You grinned. Terry’s head tilted forward slightly.

You should’ve listened, you know you should have, but instead you shrugged your shoulders. “Seeing how you’re way over there and I’m finna go out, there’s not a damn thing you can do right now,” you said. You blew him a kiss.

Terry’s smirk was vicious. He looked away from the camera and nodded slowly like he was confirming something in his mind. That probably should’ve been your second clue to stop egging him on. But that damn gremlin…

The doorbell rang and Terry turned his head back to the camera. “That’s probably Miranda and Tenni,” you said and smirked at Terry. “If you’re good, maybe we can video chat later and I’ll show you a little something.”

“A little something?” He asked. But that smirk was still on his face. He was playing with you and you weren’t sure how. Partying was too heavy on your brain at the moment to suss out his expressions so you blew him a kiss and promised to take lots and lots of pictures.

“Have a good night, baby,” he said, his voice saccharine and sugary.

You narrowed your eyes at him but he only grinned and hung up. Putting his gorgeous smile and whatever punishment he was planning from your mind, you grabbed your heels and headed to the front door of your apartment.

The doorbell rang again just as you opened the door to find Miranda and Tenni on the other side. They grinned and wolf-whistled at you and your outfit. You were lucky enough to find the perfect friend group in high school. One summer class before freshman year and you three were inseparable.

Tenni cocked her hip and jerked her thumb. “Is you ready or naw?” She asked. She wore a striped mini dress that stopped mid thigh. With a colorful mix of blues and purples, the dress made her body look amazing. She wore low heels and had her locs in a cute bun on top of her head.

Miranda wore an olive green short dress that ruffled at the bottom but had a cut out underneath the cups, showing off her tiny ankh tattoo there. Her big hoop earrings swung as she turned her head to Tenni.

“Ten bucks says she was talking to Terry,” Miranda said.

“That ain’t no damn bet. Of course she was,” Tenni said.

“Just because you hatin’ hos ain’t got a man, don’t mean you need to dim my light,” you said and grinned, hugging them.

You quickly put on your heels adding to your height. Though no matter how high the shoe, you weren’t close to Terry’s full 6’3 stature. Which suited you just fine. You liked hopping on that man like a spider monkey.

“Whatever. I’m such a why choose girlie, anyway,” Tenni sighed wistfully.

“Why choose a good man?” Miranda asked. You howled with laughter and hi-fived Miranda as Tenni’s face dropped. She flipped both of you the bird but ended up laughing with you.

All done, you didn’t bother grabbing a sweater. Yes, it was freezing, but after a few drinks and some dancing in a cramped space, you would be warm enough.

As a trio, you all headed to West Hollywood. The lights grew brighter the closer you got with billboards and ads all vying for your attention. The streets grew cleaner and the restaurants grew more expensive.

The apartment you shared with your boyfriend was by no means considered the hood. But the startling contradictions about LA were what kept you there. On one corner, there was a man dressed in a feather pink boa and leopard print undies dancing to some invisible beat. On the other side of the street, there was a group of women with three shopping bags a piece.

LA was weird in the best way but it was home and it was yours. You giggled and laughed with your friends in the Uber, chatting up the sweet older gentleman who insisted on opening the doors for all of you.

After arriving and showing the bouncer your IDs, you all headed to the elevator. The space was surprisingly big, with a 50s style black and white flooring and wood paneled walls. There was an advertisement for the rooftop movies they sometimes showed. You checked over the movies, wondering if there was something Terry would be down for.

Before long, the elevators opened on the other side out onto the rooftop. The place was already packed, with people crowding the bar like it was running out of alcohol. The DJ played annoying club mix pop songs that grated because it made these people think they could dance. When all they did was jump up and down in place.

The hostess smiled at your group as you stepped forward. To the left, there was a door covered in faux grass and a sign with something you couldn’t read. But, it was half-cracked open revealing a skating rink on the other side.

“Oh my god! Look!” Tenni screamed. Behind you, there was a life sized Barbie box. Tenni hopped in with a deranged giggle, handing Miranda her phone.

You directed her to look a certain way or pose a certain way while Miranda played photographer. You each took turns in the box, taking a thousand and one pictures. As soon as you were done, there was a mini line forming of people wanting to do the same thing. When you got your phone back, you selected the best pictures and sent them to Terry.

You added in saucy comments, teasing him, telling him all the filthy ways you were going to pleasure yourself tonight since he wasn’t around. He sent cryptic messages back and promised his retribution when he saw you.

“Are you going to talk to him all night?” Miranda asked.

“No, you hater. I came to hang with ya’ll and ring in the New Year. Now, where them drinks at?” You asked.

Tenni grabbed Miranda’s hand and led all of you to the other side of the rooftop bar. Against the railing, there was a line of white tables and plushy seats filled with people nervously glancing around and bobbing their heads.

There were other standing room only tables, with people leaning against it and holding onto their significant others with a vice grip. It was like everyone was too afraid to loosen up and have fun.

Behind you, the dance floor was tucked into the corner with strobe lights going wild and a machine projecting a neon dancer on the wall. The further you walked from the main area, the quieter it became.

There were more tables and chairs here, but you already knew that those were reserved. Why these places thought you wanted to pay for a ticket, a seat, and a drink was beyond you. If you paid to get in somewhere, you should be able to sit wherever you damn well pleased.

There was a second bar at the end of the rooftop with less people fighting over each other for watered down drinks. Your eyes roamed over the few people there. There were plenty of Black folk and you took a deep, restful sigh. You were around your people and you were safe.

You each ended up grabbing a signature drink, passing it amongst yourselves to try the other’s drink. The sweet hit of alcohol hit your system and soon, you were dancing to even the cheesiest of songs.

You three were probably the only ones dancing in the back area but that was fine. You were an entire vibe amongst yourselves and you all danced in time with the horrible remixes.

The more you danced, the more others seemed to loosen up and go on and turn it into a party. You ended up linking with a group of guy friends who checked your friends out.

True to form, Tenni stood between two guys, dancing and teasing them. When one got too handsy, Tenni would giggle and lean on the other for help and support. “Working them like a damn fiddle,” Miranda said and shook her head.

“Think they’ll fight or want her at the same time?” You asked.

Miranda assessed the two men playing with Tenni like a ping-pong ball. “Same time,” she said with a deadpan delivery that nearly made you snort your favorite drink.

The night passed in a dizzying mix of alcohol, laughs, and the night sky overhead. Sweat rolled down your back as you shook your booty to every song that came on. Sometimes the DJ played songs you could actually dance to.

During those songs, you and your girls showed out. You twerked and sang, trying to one up each other in good fun. Tenni took a break from luring her next conquests in to snap pictures and videos and post it.

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” You yelled, giggling, holding three shot glasses in your hand. You were more than a little tipsy, everything turning sideways a bit. But you trucked on, too turnt up for self-preservation.

You clinked your glasses together. “Another year to the best friends I could have ever asked for,” Miranda said.

“Another year of being badasses,” Tenni said.

“Another year of holding each other down,” you said. At once, you drank the shot and braced yourself for the swift burn down your throat.

The DJ turned on the unedited version of ‘Big Energy’ by Latto. “Oh shit!” You screamed.

You stomped your feet and shook your ass to the beat. You sang along and threw your hands in the air. “Pretty face, no waist, and a big ol’ ass!”

You wilded out and let the alcohol direct your body for the night. You felt so loose, so alive, so free. It was a Tuesday night but you partied like it was a Saturday night and your bills were due.

Tenni waved to you and you waved back, grinning at her. She continued to wave with one arm slung over one of the men she was thinking of taking home. You waved again, not understanding what she was trying to signal.

Tenni looked over to Miranda who waved you down as well. You continued to twerk, getting into the song. “Ain’t too many niggas that can handle me!” You sang, sticking out your tongue and doing the most.

“That right?” A deep, smooth voice said behind you. You straightened up immediately and turned around.

Terry stood behind you in a knit black see-through polo and dark pants. The collar was left open, revealing a short gold chain against his tanned skin. His gold watch flashed on his wrist as he looked down at you.

“Big Daddy!” You screamed, launching yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease and chuckled against your cheek. He absorbed the shock of your attack and hugged you around the waist.

Your lips sought out his, pouring all of your love into it. His lips were so warm and juicy. Your body melted while in his arms, all the tension from the last week and a half leaving your body now that he was back.

“What are you doing here? When did you get in?” You asked once you leaned back.

“I was planning a surprise for you when you got home,” he said.

“A surprise for me?” You asked. You remained in Terry’s arms, talking to him face to face. He smelled so damn good. Your eyes drifted taking in the subtle differences and comparing it to the last time he was with you.

His goatee framed his perfect face but he was letting it grow a bit. His hair filled out and it looked so good that you ran your fingers through it. His naturally dark eyelashes fanned his cheeks whenever he blinked.

“Was a surprise,” he repeated.

You pouted. “Why not anymore? It’s almost midnight,” you sang and waggled your eyebrows.

Terry chuckled. He nuzzled your cheek with his nose and gave you a small kiss. “How much have you had to drink?” He asked.

You leaned back and pinched your thumb and forefinger. “A little. Barely a drop,” you said but your following giggle gave you away.

Terry pressed his lips together in a frown. “Let’s go,” he said.

“But–” You looked behind you at your friends who waved you off. They already knew the business. Once Terry was home, you were off grid for at least two days. That ‘I missed you sex’ hit too fucking hard for you not to be in a sex coma afterwards.

Terry waved to your friends before turning around with you still in his arms. You wiggled, but Terry held firm. You giggled and finally stopped. “I missed you too, Big Daddy. You got something for me in them pants?” You asked against his neck, rubbing yourself on his body, unashamed at who may be watching.

Your man was home, that was all you were concerned about.

Terry held you in his arms as he opted for the stairs rather than the elevator. “They have rooftop movies here, babe. Would you be down to go?” You asked.

Terry didn’t answer, taking the steps quickly. You shrugged. Maybe he was too focused on not dropping you. And with the dress you wore, you couldn’t wrap your legs around him like you wanted.

Outside, the frigid night air was worse than when you were on the rooftop surrounded by bodies. The unforgiving cold air highlighted just how sweaty you were, making your bones shiver deep down.

Terry’s truck was parked illegally beside the curb. He tucked you inside and closed the door, walked to the other side and climbed in. He blasted the heater for you and put one arm around your headrest to back up safely into the street.

You watched, mesmerized, as his big hands turned the wheel one way and then another, adjusted the gear shift, and then pulled on down the street. This man could read the dictionary or draw stick figures and you’d sit and be attentive as hell. Everything he did turned you on. Absolutely everything.

And this outfit was doing things to you. Awful, terrible things to your body. Making you flush with heat. Making your pussy throb and your panties grow damp. You loved when he wore short sleeves so that he could show off his tattoos. He had a tiny scrawl across his right bicep with your name in cursive. You wanted to lick it.

At a red light, you leaned over the console and did just that. Terry gave you a side eye, his eyelashes so long and thick.

The ride home was quiet but your tipsy, horny ass was too impatient to notice. You carried the conversation, telling him about things he missed while he was gone teaching. You touched him as you talked. You traced the veins in his arms and the tattoos painted there. You played with his neck and his big ears. And squeezed his thick thigh. Terry endured all of it with barely a sound.

“Play with me,” you whined.

Terry silently pulled into the underground parking at your apartment building and then turned the car off. Without a word, he hopped out and then held the door open for you and helped you out as well.

Terry grabbed your hand and yanked you towards the elevators. You giggled at his little caveman routine. Inside the elevator, Terry pulled until your back was against his chest. He gripped onto your waist possessively, alternately squeezing and letting go.

Your body responded, melting against him while also tensing up from how amazing you felt in his arms. He was here. He was back. You couldn’t help rubbing his arms and hands as he held on. You leaned forward so that you could turn but he tightened his grip on you, holding you in place.

You looked over your shoulder at him but his eyes were trained on the numbers as they climbed higher. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on your floor. Terry pushed you forward, with a quick smack to your booty.

Your hands shot out to cover your ass as you looked back with a giggle. Terry’s eyes were narrowed as a slight smirk played on his lips.

“Love you,” you said, an edge of nervousness creeping into your tone. He was too quiet. Too focused.

“You know you fucked up, right?” Terry asked, breaking his silence.

Your mouth dropped open in a cute ‘O’ as you walked with him down the hall. You pointed to yourself and Terry nodded. He kept a firm grip on your waist as he approached your apartment door, taking out his keys to enter. He let you go first and you skipped further away from him.

“Okay, I said some things earlier that I did not mean at all,” you said. You nodded your head but Terry only followed you into the apartment.

You held up your hand as Terry locked up and took off his shoes. You took off yours as well, needing the advantage. After all the dancing you did, your feet hurt something serious. But Terry was not in the mood for a foot rub.

No, he was deceptively calm as he took off his watch and placed it on a table beside the front door. He emptied his pockets as well and you started to back away, mentally calculating where you could escape to until he calmed down.

That damn gremlin. Always writing checks your ass couldn’t cash. While not sitting right for two weeks sounded good in theory, you wanted a good dickin’ tonight. Not punishment.

“We can talk about this, right?” You asked. Nervous giggles bubbled from your gut as you took in the stiff slope of his shoulders and the fluid way he moved.

Terry turned to you and then folded his hands in front of him, one hand clutching the other wrist.

Your hands turned clammy as you noticed his posture, his tilt, and his electric eyes. His chest rose and fell and your own heartbeat began to rise. Oh, shit.

You turned and ran, heading towards your closet. “Where you going, baby?” Terry asked after you with a playful lilt in his accent.

You ran, full speed, heading up the stairs. You hit the top of the stairs and nearly toppled over, too excited at reaching the top without getting snatched. You took off down the hall and the bedroom door was cracked, calling to you.

You reached out your hand to push it open and Terry’s big arms circled your waist and yanked. “Ahh!” You screamed as you were lifted clean off the ground.

“What happened to all that big girl shit you were talkin’ earlier?” Terry asked, low and deep in your ear. Your pussy throbbed, getting wetter by the second.

On second thought…

“Time to back up that shit you was talkin’ about,” Terry growled in your ear.

Terry placed you on your feet but didn’t let you escape. He walked with you into the bedroom, turning on the lamps in the room. The warm lighting was dim enough to remain intimate but bright enough to see everything.

Your bedroom was tastefully decorated in copper and navy. The walls were dark and so was the furniture, with a deep navy comforter and a copper throw blanket. Terry tossed you onto the bed and you hopped right back up.

“Wait, wait,” you said, the world spinning from your run and the alcohol still coursing through your blood.

“You gon’ talk like a big girl, you need to take it like a big girl,” Terry said. He pushed you back down onto the bed and you bounced, biting your lip, as you looked up at him.

You never felt more girly and small than when faced with just how tall Terry was. You were level with his waist as he undid his belt and watched you with a smirk. You mushed your thighs together at the devious look in his eyes.

“But Big Daddy,” you said, pouting, trying to give him doe eyes so that he would take mercy on you. You reached out to run your hands under his shirt, to lay flat against his stomach. He had a light dusting of hair that tickled your palms.

No such luck. Terry moved away, removing your hands from his stomach. He looped the belt around your wrists and pulled tight, ensuring that you couldn’t move. You tested the bind, twisting your wrists but there was no give.

“I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“I know,” he said. He pulled you by the belt to stand. Then, he placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “Just remember I love you.”

“Shit,” you sighed.

Terry grinned as he spun you around and then moved your hair to the side. He positioned you to face the floor length mirror tucked into the corner for just this occasion. You watched the feral look on his face as he kissed and licked on the T tattoo you put on your shoulder for him.

Your body shivered and you moaned as Terry’s hands trailed along your body. His hands relearned all of your curves, your ass, your waist, and tugged on your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

You hissed as he pinched harder and harder, rubbing your nipples between his fingers. “Oh, Daddy,” you moaned.

Terry kissed your shoulder and your neck, randomly licking in areas. You never knew when it was going to happen, but when it did, your clit throbbed with need.

Terry pulled on the spaghetti straps until it slipped down your shoulders and your arms. You wore no bra underneath and Terry sucked in a gasp when you were fully exposed. He licked his lips and his eyes grew more narrow as he looked and grabbed his fill.

He continued grabbing and twisting your nipples until you were a squirming mess. “Please, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll behave,” you moaned.

“I don’t believe you, baby,” he said.

Terry pushed the dress down your body inch by inch. With each new section he uncovered, he kissed and licked and nibbled on your skin. You giggled and squirmed, trying to escape from him but he was too large. Too big.

He peeled the dress off of your ass revealing your lacy pink panties beneath. Terry hummed and knelt on the floor, twisting your body around. He buried his face in your pussy and inhaled, groaning at the heightened smell of your arousal.

Your body was on fire, throbbing with need. “Please, baby, please, baby. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I still don’t believe you,” he murmured against your pussy. He peeled the dress down your thighs, his thumbs digging into your skin. He nibbled on your thigh and licked away the sting.

You moaned as he continued dropping your dress to pool at your feet. He helped you step out of it and then he was back to planting his face in between your legs. You giggled. “I need you,” you moaned.

“I need you to behave,” he said.

“You like it when I misbehave though,” you said and poked your bottom lip out. Maybe if you got him talking, he’d abandon this silly plan and fuck your brains out.

“Alright then, back up that shit you was tellin’ me,” he said. He looked up at you and you sighed at the raw need in his stormy eyes.

You sank to your knees and pushed at him to stand. Once he did, you had just enough room to get his zipper down. You mirrored what he did earlier, planting your face against his thickening bulge and inhaled his deeply masculine scent.

You moaned, fighting with his briefs to free that long, girthy dick begging for your attention. Once out of his briefs, his dick bounced against your face. He held the base and slapped your lips with it a few times.

You giggled and then opened your mouth, sucking him down. He groaned and threw his head back. “Shit, like that?” He asked. He slipped from your lips while he went to sit on the bed. You scooted in between his legs and then began licking his shaft.

He groaned and jerked his hips. You sucked his tip back into your mouth, sucking hard and watched as his eyes rolled back. He gripped the back of your head and pushed you down on the full length of him.

You couldn’t fit all of him inside, but damn if you didn’t try. Each slide down, you tried to take more and more of him. His dick tickled the back of your throat but you breathed through the gag reflex, relaxed your throat, and sucked him down how he wanted.

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned. “Missed this nasty mouth.”

He reached out with his free hand to grab and yank at your panties, pulling the thin fabric between your pussy lips. You yelped and squeezed your thighs together.

You moaned around his dick. He throbbed in your mouth, dick pulsing. You flicked your tongue along the veins on his dick, wishing more than anything that you could do more. Grip him at the base, grip onto his thighs, something. You wanted to touch him so badly, your fingers tingled with it.

Terry continued to push you onto his dick. He leaned partially back so that he could thrust up from his sitting position. You gagged anyway and spit on his dick. “Fuck, just like that,” he moaned.

A light ring of gloss encircled his dick and you licked it all up, getting his dick nice and clean. The delicious salt of his cum mixed with the flavored gloss and you moaned at the taste. You watched his heavy balls rest against his thighs. You ached to touch them, play with them, bury your face, and suckle one into your mouth.

“Gonna bust in this pretty mouth and you’re going to swallow it,” Terry moaned.

You locked eyes with him and nodded. He closed his eyes and thrust a few more times before he jerked and his dick twitched. Hot, pulsing cum filled your mouth and slid down your throat and you sucked it all down, swallowed just like he wanted.

Terry panted as he slowly withdrew his dick past your lips. He grinned and massaged your jaw and throat. “Okay, baby?” He asked.

You nodded and blinked at him. “Words, beautiful,” he commanded.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. His fingers worked out the kinks from taking his dick and you moaned as he found each one.

“Am I forgiven?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet, I need a better apology,” he said.

You whined. He tapped your face with his dick and you giggled with him, but kept your mouth shut. He rewarded you with a sultry, hot, deep kiss that made your toes curl. He licked your lips and you moaned, trying to get him to do it again.

Instead, he pulled away and then stood up. His dick was still hard, hot, and jutted away from his body. It bounced with each movement that he made. He helped you stand and then he helped you get on the bed.

He positioned you on your stomach and made you face the mirror. You watched him as he worked. The gleam in his eyes. His tongue slightly poked out from the corner of his mouth.

“Knees,” he ordered.

You got to your knees on the bed, ass up, face down. He grabbed your hips and moved you until you were in the perfect position to offer your pussy on a silver platter. Terry took off his clothes and your pussy throbbed as his broad chest was revealed.

His body was beautiful. From head to foot. He sculpted his body with care and precision until he was a walking sex god and he was all fucking yours.

You licked your lips as you watched him. Fully naked, he stepped forward and then rubbed his hands on your ass.

He tested a few smacks, watching your ass recoil. He analyzed it like the soldier that he was, but each smack grew harder and more erratic. You couldn’t predict where he was going to smack and that fact turned you on more.

From time to time, he’d look up from his handiwork and wink at you in the mirror. He stopped his assault to head to your drawer. Inside, he dug out your favorite vibrator. “This is a punishment. So you are not allowed to cum, understand?” He gripped your chin and forced you to look him in the eye.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said with a nod.

Terry coated the bullet vibrator in lube, turned it on, and then plunged it inside. You moaned, stretching out like a cat. “Repeat after me, baby. I will be a good girl and listen to Daddy,” he said.

“I will be–” He delivered a swift, decisive smack that stung long after the initial hit. You gasped and bowed off of the bed but Terry pushed your lower back down.

“I don’t hear any talking,” he said.

You looked at him in the mirror and he grinned like a demon. “How long this lasts depends entirely on you,” he said, his voice low and deep.

“But–” Another smack stole your breath away and you gasped, trying to fight the pain. The vibrator was no help, throbbing in time with your pussy in response to the spanking.

“I will be a – unf,” you moaned. Terry rubbed your ass, fresh waves of fire licking down your spine. He gripped the vibrator and fucked you with it. You moaned and you rose up to meet the thrusts.

Terry pulled the vibrator out and you cried out. “Talk,” he growled.

Tears gathered in your eyes but you nodded. “I will be a good girl–” you stopped because Terry pushed the vibrator inside. When you stopped, he pulled it back out.

“I will be a good girl and listen to Daddy!” You yelled, not wanting him to stop again. Terry chuckled and kissed both of your ass cheeks, then plunged the vibrator back in.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Terry said.

“I’m sorr-” you began but another smack turned your brain to jelly. You moaned and collapsed on to the bed, the sensations too much for you to bear.

Terry roughly readjusted you. “If I have to move you again, you won’t cum at all,” he said.

You sniffled as tears fell freely down your cheeks. You wanted to cum so badly, you were ready to beg. Until your knees were raw, your voice hoarse, and snot ran down your face. Your belly tightened with the urge but Terry was right there to pull the vibrator out.

“Baby, please!” You begged.

Terry answered with a smack to your ass, loud enough to echo in the room. Your body threatened to collapse but you wanted to cum more than anything at the moment. You tucked your knees further together and then wiped your eyes on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” You yelled.

“I won’t play when you’re gone. I’ll behave,” Terry said.

“I won’t play when you’re gone. I’ll behave,” you repeated, even as he delivered smacks. Your ass was on fire and your pussy leaked with your essence. Your nails dug into the comforter, gripping it as if it was the sole thing keeping your sanity intact.

You shivered with the overwhelming need to cum. “Please, please, please,” you begged, nearly at your limit.

“When Daddy tells me not to wear something, I’ll listen,” Terry said.

“When Daddy–” you said and cried out when Terry started fucking you with the vibrator. Your thighs twitched and jerked.

Terry kissed your sweaty skin, nibbled on your ass. “Please, baby, I can’t no more. I can’t do it no more, baby, I can’t! Let me cum, please, let me cum.” You didn’t even know what the hell you were saying anymore.

Terry removed the vibrator and you sighed, rubbing your forehead on the comforter. Cold air caressed your skin as Terry stepped away. You closed your eyes briefly, loving the reprieve.

Terry entered you from behind in one rough thrust. You cried out with a moan, trying to escape. Terry grabbed your hips and slammed you back down on his dick. He grabbed your neck and pushed your face into the mattress. You were barely able to keep an eye on him in the mirror.

You gasped and panted, the delicious stretch of him competing with the slight burn of the unexpected rough thrust. “When. Daddy. Tells. Me. Not. To. Wear. Something. I’ll. Listen,” Terry punctuated every word with a sharp thrust that made you see stars.

You fought, hard, with your body to not cum unless he said so. With his fingers wrapped around your neck, he had full control in this position. He moved your neck so that you could look at him in the mirror better.

“When Daddy tells me not to wear something, I’ll listen,” you sniffled. Fuck, you weren’t going to last. Not at all. It was a miracle you lasted this long.

He was so thick, pushing up and into you. He dug you out, nearly touching your guts as he delivered long, deep strokes. His hips rolled into you, making you feel every inch of him.

“I won’t tease Daddy when he’s away on an assignment,” Terry said, his voice rumbling in his chest. Sweat poured off of him and dripped onto your back. His moans were low, eyes crinkled in the corner. His jaw was slightly slack, juicy bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I won’t te-te-,” you stuttered, your body giving in to the pleasure. Terry stopped stroking until you calmed down, the orgasm retreating from the edge.

“Start over,” he said, his voice soft for once.

“I won’t tease D-D,” you stuttered again. You were ready to combust.

“I won’t go until you do,” he said. “You might wanna hurry up though, it’s almost midnight,” he said.

You whined and groaned in frustration. This was such bullshit! But fuck, your brain was pleasantly numb. You were Terry’s plaything at the moment and this was the only place you belonged. Naked and at his mercy.

“I won’t tease Daddy when he’s away on assignment,” you whispered. Took you a few tries, but you did so without stuttering or stopping.

“I won’t use Daddy’s real name unless it’s necessary,” he said.

“I won’t use Daddy’s real name unless it’s necessary,” you whispered. You could only hold on for so long. Your orgasm twisted your belly painfully, rising closer to the surface with each deep stroke of Terry’s dick.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” he said. He moaned as he seemed to sink deeper. Hit a new depth inside that unleashed an entire galaxy behind your eyelids.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you moaned.

“I won’t do it again,” Terry said.

“I won’t do it again,” you said.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Terry counted for you because you were too far gone to say anything else. When he got to one, the clock struck twelve and Terry moved his fingers between your legs and rubbed your aching clit.

Your orgasm split you open, atom by atom until you were able to take a peek at your soul. Written in the seams was Terry’s full government name and military rank. In every lifetime, every reincarnation, it was just the two of you. Forever and ever as long as there was life in the universe and all of creation.

Fireworks boomed and whistled outside your apartment as the world went crazy for the near year. Light flashed behind your closed eyelids. Terry’s grunts and moans faded to the background as your orgasm seemed endless. Boundless. You were beyond this room, this block, this city, this country. You were beyond.

Terry stroked once more before he exploded inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. “Fuckin’ love you, baby. You’re so good for me. You did so well. I’m so proud of you,” he moaned. He kissed your neck, your back, your shoulder, and your tattoo as his dick throbbed and throbbed.

“Happy New Year’s, Big Daddy.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby,” he said and kissed your forehead.

Happy 2025!!!! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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kyu-piddy · 7 days ago

Text

New Year’s Kiss

An: Happy new year everyone! Exams are kicking my butt, so I haven’t been able to write much. Even so, here’s a little something to celebrate the beginning of 2025!

Gn reader x nrc students (minus Ortho)

Words: 5.3k words

Tw: None

The clock strikes midnight, the new year commences, and the man you secretly love stands in front of you.

Eyes locked and heart in your mouth, seconds pass in silence…

Ace

Ace’s mouth quirks into a little smirk.

“I know you’re just dying to kiss me, Prefect.”

His jeering tone is contrasted by the heat climbing up from his neck to his cheeks, hand on the back of his head.

“Maybe you’re the one dying to kiss me, Ace.”

His false confidence crumbles, his gaze faltering to the ground.

“Maybe… Just maybe, I do.”

The festivities around you continue, but time stands still as you take a step forward, so uncertain in your certainty.

As your faces are merely inches from each other, you stop, sudden shame coloring your mind.

Before you can put much more thought into it, Ace leans forward and steals a kiss.

Soft and brief, he quickly pulls away, turning his head around just as quickly.

“The others are probably looking for us. Let’s go.”

He starts walking fast, bashfulness leading his feet, but passion leading his heart, and hand, to yours.

Deuce

Deuce seems momentarily lost, briefly fleeting from confused to bashful, before setting into a serious expression, resolute on whatever his mind has decided.

“Prefect, there’s this new years tradition I’d really like to try.”

His practiced speech stops midway, loosing himself in your inquisite eyes.

Murmuring something to himself, he throws himself forward, grabbing your hands with his, a violently soft prayer of acceptance.

“I really want to kiss you!”

You blink stupidly back at him.

He takes a step back, a dejected look on his face.

“Only if you want to, of course. I’d never want to force you.”

Grabbing his tie, you shut him up with a kiss.

He freezes, insecurities of a first kiss clouding his judgement, but slowly and surely melts into it.

Cater

“Happy new year! Since I found you first, you have to give me a big ol smooch.”

You roll your eyes, but nevertheless lean into his face, landing a soft kiss on his plush cheek, small specks of glitter reflecting the low lights of the room.

“Happy now?” you ask, a small smile on your face not reflected in your heart.

Cater puts on a pondering face, finger tapping on his chin, pensative gaze staring straight through you.

“Uhmm… Not really, no.”

He chirps, and his airy smile drops, replaced by a surprisingly serious look.

“I want a real kiss,___.”

“Cater, don’t play around! I swear, it’s too early in the year for a magicam challenge.”

You playfully slap his arm, a chance for him to grab it and pull you close, his other arm resting on your lower waist.

“I don’t always play around, you know?”

Releasing your arm, he leads his hand to the back of your head.

The sparkles on his cheeks are the last thing you see before you’re engulfed in a fiery kiss, one that you’ll remember forever.

Trey

“The mess after this party is going to be immense. I pity whoever will have to clean it.”

“Thankfully it isn’t us! I can already imagine the hours it would take to clean the stains of that carpet.”

Trey is extremely good at small talk, and soon enough the moment dissolves like morning dew.

You can’t help but pity it, cursing your own innactiveness.

Warm eyes inspect you without you noticing, critical but not antagonizing, waiting for an opening.

Then, something clicks.

“Prefect, I think I saw something in your teeth.”

“What!” You let out a gasp of embarrassment, hand shooting up to hide your momentary blemish.

“Now, let me see.”

He moves close to your face, slowly unpeeling your hand of your face.

“Open your mouth, please.”

He orders politely, not leaving you any choice.

You comply, his hand on your chin, and after a quick inspection, Trey speaks up.

“It seems I was mistaken. Apologies, Prefect.”

You close your mouth, but before you can thank him something warm graces your lips.

Bashfully, you close your eyes, his lips on yours like heaven.

His tongue slithers between your lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, memorizing them.

Treys warm lips leave yours, a cheeky grin replacing his former expression.

“Now I’m completely sure there’s nothing there. Thank you for collaborating.”

You give him an annoyed look and he merely chuckles in response.

Riddle

“Riddle, did you know there’s a New Years tradition of kissing someone at midnight?”

You ask, breaching the silence.

“I have heard of it. Mother always said it was a glorified disease spreader.”

He answers matter of factly, and you feel yourself deflating.

“Is that so.”

More silence. You shuffle your feet around, unsure on how to proceed.

As the seconds pass by, midnight and one minute inches closer.

“Please do not participate in such an activity, Prefect.”

You feel exasperation boiling over, like a petulant child being told by their parents what not to do.

“Why not, Riddle?! If you don’t want to, why shouldn’t I go find someone who wants!”

Riddles eyes widen, his face exploding in a fiery red color.

He clears his throat, doing his best to look you in the eye.

“You’re right, Prefect. I can’t tell you what to do. I just… I wouldn’t want you to do such a thing with someone else because I want to be the one that you… that you kiss.”

An exasperated plea, love and desperation coating his unsure voice.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, thump thumping louder each time.

“Would you do the honor of letting me kiss you?”

Riddle asks, a wish and a request all at once.

“There’s no else I’d rather do it with.”

Even if midnight had already passed, Riddle and you still shared a New Years kiss, tinted with the flavor of strawberries.

Jack

“Prefect, you’re hurt.”

You looked down at your ankle, a bitter red pulsating under the supple skin.

“It’s fine. I think I just tripped earlier. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile at him winningly, but his worries are not soothed by your words.

Your feet are pulled out of the ground, a small gasp escaping your lips, as Jack picks you up.

He carries you to a small room and sits you down on a chair, unbothered by your flustered opinion.

“There’s a first aid kit here. Take off your shoe and give me your foot.”

You comply, even as redness creeps up and stains your feautures.

Jack starts applying some sort of cold cream, and then fixes you up with bandages, his hands unexpectedly tender despite their rough exterior.

“Thank you, Jack. I feel much better.”

“Good.”

He answers almost disinterestedly, his soft smile letting his true feelings shine.

“Sorry for making you miss the best part of new years.”

Your voice fails you as your mind scrambles to find the right words.

“I want to make it up to you.”

Slowly, very slowly, you approach his face, gauging his expression.

It remains painfully unmoving, but his tail waggers behind him, giving you all the confidence you need.

Lips on lips, gently like a flowers touch, you don’t let yourself get too carried away.

“We should probably go back.”

You comment.

He nods his head, a dust of pink gracing his cheeks, as he once again swoops you off the ground, his tail wagging the only assurance you need.

Ruggie

You feel your pocket rustling as Ruggie walks past you, too quick for you to catch up to him.

Rummaging through said pocket, you find your phone missing.

“Ruggie, come back!”

Perusing the room with your eyes like a detective inspecting the scene of a crime, you spot his tail peeking from behind a door.

Running as best as you can through the crowd of intermingling bodies, you reach the door and quickly slip in.

The room you slip into is empty and slightly dusty, unknown to the partygoers.

“Ruggie, where are you?! I saw you come here.”

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, warm and soft palms blocking your line of sight and reason.

“Caught ya. Shishishi.”

He laughs lightly near your ear, the baby hairs on your neck standing on edge.

“Can I have my phone back now?”

He laughs again.

“I can. But I have a price.”

His hands slid away from your eyes, and you turned around to him.

“Close your eyes, and you’ll get your phone back.”

Cheeks flaring up, you complied.

But instead of the cold metal of the phone sliding into your pocket, you felt the warm breath of the one you had long pinned for against your face.

And in no time at all, his lips on yours.

Leona

Leona’s languid gaze swept through your body, resting upon your face in the end, a lazy smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“Isn’t there something you should be doing, herbivore?”

“Getting more fruit punch? I definitely should be doing that.”

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

His words made butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart skip a beat, but your face remained calm and composed.

You would make him break first in this long lasting dance of yours.

Suddenly, he got close. Much too close, as your back hit the wall, one of his arms caging you in.

“Little herbivore, you can keep running and hiding, but sooner or later you’ll have to give in.”

You mulled over his words, a coy look decorating your face, innocence disguising your true intentions.

“If you’re not going to stop me, why should I? Maybe if I ask Malleus-”

Your words were cut off by his mouth on yours, a ferocious and heated kiss, his taste and smell invading your senses until you could no longer remember anything else.

“Are you going to ask that stupid lizard now?” he breathed out in bettwen kisses.

“Never.” you answered, pulling him closer by his collar.

Azul

“Ah, dear Prefect. Are you enjoying the Mostro Lounge new year party?”

He curtsied you with his hat, a perfect old timey gentleman.

“Indeed, I am. I wonder how this party has all my favourites coicidentally. Favorite beverage, favorite food, even my favourite color is part of the main decorations.”

You made sure to give him a significant look, his gaze unfaltering under your scrutiny.

“What interesting coincidences, aren’t they?”

His smile never faltered, ever so politely fake.

“Our vip lounge has some extra festivities that could be to your interest. Perhaps could I escort you there?”

“No, thank you. I’d rather go back to my friends.”

His smile fell momentarily, a shocked look on his face quickly covered by his suave persona.

“But I insist, Prefect.”

“And I insist on no. I have to go.”

Making your way through the room, you counted down from five in your head.

As it reached one, the twins appeared in the corner of your eye, turning into a makeshift wall, stopping you in your tracks.

“Heyaaaa, Shrympy. You have to go back to Azul, or he’ll surely blow a fuse.”

“That’s right, our esteemed guest. Our dear Azul is waiting for you.”

“Then tell him to come get me himself.”

The twins look at each other before swiftly dispersing.

In seconds, Azul appears, looking slightly frazzled.

“So dear Azul, did I ruin your perfect plan for new years? Let me guess, you wanted to take me to the vip lounge, butter me up, and then kiss me?”

Undeciferable emotions pass through his eyes like a carrousel as you simply smile at him mischievously.

His mouth moved, something about to be said, but you didn’t let him, kissing him before a sound could be uttered, and breaking away even faster, quickly shuffling away to the table where your friends sat, but not before saying one last thing.

“Happy new year, Azul. Let’s hope next year you can kiss me for a change.”

Jade

“Jade, there’s a strange mushroom in my glass.”

Jade smiled widely at you, eyes closed and hands politely folded.

“Is it so, now? May I see it?”

Handing him your cup, he observed the floating little fungi.

“Oh, dear. I’m not quite sure, but if this mushroom is the one I believe it is, it isn’t toxic per say, but it has serious side effects, such as vomiting and rashes.”

You raised one of your brows at him, his impassive face unfaltering.

“How could such a mushroom end up in the drink of a client at a restaurant? Seems very unlikely.”

“Unlikely but not impossible. Certain students of this school are known for their mischievous streak. But for now, what matters most is helping our esteemed customer.”

“And how can you help me?”

His eyes opened, he stared at you with his menacing smile, teeth barred for all to see.

“Thankfully, it is very simple. The victim of the mushroom must simply have the toxin extracted from the zone in the body where it went into contact with.”

“Right. And how do you do that?”

“A simple suction motion can do the trick.”

“Really, now? Then in other words I have to ask someone to suck on my lips?”

“If it is the mushroom with those side effects, yes. It could also be a completely normal mushroom.”

You felt like rolling your eyes at him, his obvious stunt endearingly annoying.

“Okay. Then suck it out of my lips.”

Your direct answer didn’t seem to faze him as he leaned into you, slightly sucking on your lips.

Heat crept up to your face, his lips becoming warmer and warmer against yours.

“Uhmm, I’m not quite sure if it is that mushroom after all. Maybe it’s another one. I’ll have to test it to be sure.”

You went to grab your cup again to show him the mushroom again, but he held your cheeks with his hand and kissed you, properly, this time.

His tongue licked the bottom of your lips, and finding your teeth pliant, delved deeper, tasting all it could.

As he pulled back, you asked him.

“What mushroom is it after all?”

“Just a normal mushroom used for cooking.”

With a little smirk, he answered, and leaned again to kiss you.

Floyd

“Shrimpy, Shrimpy, if you don’t kiss me right now I’m going to squeeze your dumb friends reallll hard.”

Floyd’s burning gaze flustered you harder than any of his words, leaving your brain to catch up to your ears.

“You are not doing that! And I am not kissing you under a threat!”

You argued back at him, watching his face turn from a pearly white grin to pouty.

“Come on, Shrimpyyyyy. It’s a tradition on land to kiss someone on new years and I wanna do it.”

“Then go do it with someone else.”

You replied, cheeks flaming at the idea, but to proud to go back on your words.

His pout deepened, and he raised his arms.

“You’re so cruel. I don’t want to kiss anyone else! I want to kiss you, ___.”

The sentence starts airy and whiny, childlike even, but ends with a poignant seriousness that makes your eyes meet his.

“Kiss me. And only me.”

He orders, hand on your shoulder.

You furrow your brows at him.

“Only if you ask politely.”

He ponders your words, but does not heed them, leaning into you and stealing a chaste kiss before running away.

“Hey! Get back here!”

You run after him, but his gigantic legs and lanky build let him get away, as he shouts in a sing-songy voice.

“Shrimpys kiss is mine!”

Kalim

“So I was there, in my potions class, and then this frog flew into my cauldron and-”

You sighed, Kalim’s mouth running wild as he kept telling you stories of his day to day.

Normally, you’d enjoy his jovial and light conversation, but right now you expected a little bit more.

“Oh gosh, look at the time! It’s past midnight!” He comments excitedly.

“The fireworks are starting right about now! Let’s go, Prefect!”

On the balcony of Kalims room, you stand side by side observing the fire works, their light illuminating the night sky and reflecting in your eyes.

You shyly try to take his hand, but he is to busy gesticulating them around, pointing to each image produced by the fireworks with such wonder as if he had never seen them.

As the show draws to a close, he finally turns fully to you, eyes filled with happiness and a desire to please.

“Did you enjoy it? Don’t you think it was just the most amazing firework show you have ever seen!”

You smiled at him, but no answer could be given, as the carpet beneath you both flew from underneath you, sending you both crashing down onto the ground.

Something soft hit your lips, and you opened your eyes to Kalims lips on yours.

He quickly leaned back, red covering his face.

“Oh my… that was nice, wasn’t it?”

“I think so too.”

You answered, still a bit dazed, the full brunt of the embarrassment not yet settled in.

“Can I do it again?”

Your eyes widened at his direct request, heart flying out of your chest.

“You can.”

Beneath the star lit sky, you kissed as many times as the stars would let you.

Jamil

“Are you still busy with Kalim?”

You asked, crossing your fingers in hope that Jamil could be yours, even if for just a minute.

“I’m afraid so. Kalim wanted to try a new drink, so I had to go prepare it.”

He gestured to the tray in his hand with his head, face umbetraying of any emotion.

Your own wasn’t so lucky, as you visibly deflated.

“Sorry to bother you then. I’ll go back to the refreshments table.”

Giving him a small smile, you started walking away.

His hand reached out, softly gripping yours.

“Give me a minute.”

You nodded, and watched as his back disappeared into the crow.

The sound of fireworks could be heard all around, overpowering any other noise, all the guests surrounding the windows and filling the balconies in hope of catching the best view, while you waited in the back.

As minutes ticked by, your hope depleted and your frown returned.

But your smile blossomed as you saw Jamil returning.

“I apologize for making you wait. Kalim wanted some more pillows.”

You held his hands on your own, softly brushing your thumb against the back.

“It’s fine. As long as I can steal you for just a bit.”

Silence reined bettwen you both, as the fire works raged on.

Soft gazes and tender hearts, you leaned closer and so did he, and sooner rather than later the silence was filled with a kiss.

Vil

“Dear, your makeup is smudged.”

Your eyes widened, searching for the nearest mirror.

“Where?! I swear, it must have been Ace with his stupid prank! I’m going to kill him!”

Taking a hand mirror out of his bag, Vil held it out for you to use.

“Thank you so much. I completely forgot mine!”

Seating on a random chair nearby, you started reapplying your eyeliner.

Vil watched you from the back, his reflection in the pocket mirror, even though small, imposing.

“I see you used the makeup I recommended. You sure do look splendid, my dear.”

“A compliment from you, Vil? My, I feel touched!”

You jested, a small laugh escaping the man behind you.

“I sure hope you do. I don’t hand out compliments that easily. Only to those who deserve it.”

His reflection in the mirror gets bigger as he keeps approaching you from the back, strands of blond hair draping over your shoulder.

“Turn to me. Let me help you with your lipstick.”

Face turned to the side, he felt even closer, amethyst eyes piercing through you and your makeup.

“Such a beautiful shade, isn’t it?”

“I think so too. And it barely stains, too!”

“I know, dear. But sometimes products are a little faulty and should be tested.”

His lips meet yours before you can even understand what’s going on.

Soft and fragrant, he moves away much too quickly, your head following his, even though you’re not connected anymore.

He laughs softly, a delicate and musical sound.

“So? Did it stain?”

You basfully inspect his lips, his makeup as pristine as if freshly put on.

“No. I don’t think so, at least.”

“Then shall we test it again? Any good products mustn’t be tested just once.”

“Of course.”

Your face flushes at his proposition, betraying you amd your willingness.

Vil doesn’t seem to mind, leaning down again and stealing another chaste kiss, and then another, and then another, until you can draw the shape of his lips with your heart.

Rook

“Ah, my little trickster! Enjoying the anne noveau? It’s a truly joyous ocassion!”

You smiled at Rook’s dramatics, deciding to humor him.

“And why is it so joyous?”

A mysterious glint lit up his eyes, mischievously charming.

“There’s this little traditión that certain people partake in during this occasion. A new years kiss. Have you heard of it?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Who knows?”

You smile at him, mischievously coy, playing around with your drink like one who isn’t quite sure how to answer.

“My little trickster, how you tempt me so.”

Using his thumb and pointer, he takes a hold of your chin delicately possessive of a prize that is not yet his.

“This temptation you have laid upon me, won’t you help me satiate it? Let this curiosity of mine rest?”

Your heart beats rapidly, bravado gone as your gaze was forced to battle with his, an evergreen intensity that made you crumble.

“Since it’s also a curiosity of mine… I’ll let you.”

His mischievous smile widened, and with unexpected ferociousness, locked his lips with yours.

His hot mouth felt like a burning inferno, burning you up from the inside and leaving you wanting for more, needing him more.

As you tried to deepen the kiss, he leaned back, perching a finger on your lips.

“Not now, my ___. Let’s wait a little while longer, shall we?”

Epel

Epel shuffled awkwardly in front of you, his fancy clothing clashing with his dour expression.

“What’s up, dude? You look way too sour. Did Vil make you wear that fancy suit?”

“Yeah. I look like some sorta fancy pastry with too much frostin’.”

You giggled at his words, shaking your head.

“I think you look rather nice. But you can always shed the tie if it’s really bothering you.”

“That’s a darn fine idea.”

He quickly shoves the tie down his pocket, visibly relaxing.

“Better?”

“Couldn’t be better. I can finally move freely! Thanks! I owe ya one.”

He moves away, as if to go back to the dancefloor but turns back and runs towards you.

“To hell with it!” you hear him mutter, before bashing his lips onto yours, pure drive behind his every move.

He pulls back, eyes wide and breathing erratically, surprise by actions of his own doing.

“You’re redder than an apple.” he comments, still looking bewildered.

“So are you.”

“Guess we matchin’ then.”

He smiles, all teeth and small dimples, and you smile back.

Idia

The beeps and boops of Idia’s phone were the only noises made from either of you, the tall man hunched over on the floor, back to the wall, like a child hiding from his parents.

“Aren’t you going to go celebrate the new years with everyone?”

Without taking his gaze from the screen he answers matter of factly.

“Nah. Gotta grind for the new years event. Gachas can totally bs with their event requirements.”

“Okay then.”

You kept your back to the wall, staring into the crowd up ahead, a pang of sadness weighting you down.

“Big Brother!” chirped a happy voice.

“And Prefect! Happy new year!”

Ortho beamed happily, circling you both excitedly like a little rabbit jumping around.

“Big brother, have you given ___ the kiss of new years yet?”

Idia’s fingers stop for the first time in the night, a red game over flashing on his screen.

“New years kiss?” you ask gently.

“Yes, Prefect. Big brother said it’s a quintessential part of any romance anime that has a new years episode! The epitome of end of season drama. So, has big brother kissed you yet?”

Said big brother is slowly slipping further and further down, glueing himself to the floor, fiery pink hair licking at your feet.

“Not yet, Ortho. But don’t worry about it. I’ll help him with it, ok?”

Ortho nodded and merrily skipped away, leaving you with his distraught older brother.

Crouching down, you got your face in front of his, his eyes closed shut.

“Am I getting my kiss now?”

He groaned loudly, slightly opening one eye to peek at you.

“This is not fair. You know my weak point. It’s cheating!”

You giggled at his conundrum, bending down to close the final space left bettwen you two, giving him a little peck on the lips.

“Next year, you give me the new years kiss alright?”

Groaning, he turned to the side and curled into a ball, slowly nodding his head.

Malleus

“I finally found you, Tsunotaoru!”

The tall fae stood in the middle of a lonely balcony, his only companion the smiling moon.

“Child of man. You have come to visit me?”

He asked, joy and sadness laced onto every word.

“Of course I have. It’s new years after all. And no one likes to spend new years alone.”

“That I do believe to be true. Sadly, there are too many years and not enough people to spend them with.”

Malleus longingly observed the moon, heavy fog of uneasiness seeping through the balcony.

You approached him, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“One day, only that moon will still be here with me. And even she mocks my plight, smiling radiantly upon any who walk below her.”

Stroaking his arm gently, you spoke softly, barely above a whisper.

“Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps one day, when the moon is the only that remains and she smiles at you, you’ll see the smile of everyone who used to smile at her too.”

Finally, he turned to you, holding your hand with a feather like touch.

“I quite like that sentiment, child of man. Even so, at least for tonight, I don’t wish to share with the moon. Tonight, shan’t you be only mine?”

A soft smile bloomed on your lips, your free hand caressing his face.

“Tonight, and forever.”

“Forever.”

His plush lips slotted perfectly onto yours, a warm kiss to truly last forever under the moonlight.

Silver

“Silver, wake up! It’s midnight!”

The silver haired man asleep on your shoulder remained so, the ruckus of the festivities almost like a lullaby to his tired mind.

“Oh, please, Silver!”

You shook him vigorously, and he finally awoke, startled.

“Prefect? Have I fallen asleep again?”

He looks around, in an unbotheredly lost way only someone who is used to falling asleep everywhere can have.

“Yeah, you did. And you missed the new years!”

“That’s fine. Every year there’s a new one. Besides, this year I have a higher priority.”

You raised a brow.

“A… higher priority?”

He nodded assertively.

“Father told me about this “new years kiss” tradition, and as such”- he got down on one knee in front of you, head bowed- “___, would you give me the honor of being my new year’s kiss?”

You stared at him, baffled and more than a bit unsure on how to react.

“Please get of the floor, Silver.”

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that. I… I accept it.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as your almost sworn knight gets up from the floor and takes your hand in his.

“You’re rather beautiful,___.”

Face hot and stomach twirling, you can’t help but look away from his eyes.

“Please just kiss me already.”

“Of course.”

Closing his eyes, he gently presses his lips against yours, before promptly falling asleep on top of you.

You sigh, letting the man rest. Next year you’d get back at him.

Sebek

“HUMAN. HAVE YOU SEEN LORD MALLEUS! I WISH TO BE THE FIRST TO WISH HIM A HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

Sebeks voice boomed in your ear, and you feel the moment slip from your fingers like sand.

Annoyance creeps onto your voice and face, and you can’t help but shout back.

“I DON'T KNOW AND I DON'T CARE! LIKE YOU DON'T SEEM TO CARE ABOUT ANY OTHER PEOPLE! DON'T YOU HAVE FRIENDS TO THINK ABOUT?! OR EVEN… me?”

Anger leaves your voice, and only sadness and solitude remain.

Sebeks shocked face reflects in your eyes, tears welling up and forming a cristaline pool.

“Go find your lord or whatever. I’ll find someone else to spend my new years with.”

You run away from him, hiding in a dimly lit room, tears falling down your cheeks and staining the floor.

Some time passes, and someone knocks on the door before bursting in.

“HUMAN I- I have come to apologize. My behaviour was unbecoming and I’d…”

His whole face was flushed red, as he tried to get his next words out.

He adjusted his posture, standing straight and then bending down, in a perfect 90 degree angle.

“I would thourogly enjoy spending new years with you, if you would like!”

A smile creeps onto your face as you dry your tears with the back of your hand.

“Sebek?”

“YE-Ahem, yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you.

“WHAT?!”

You threw yourself at his arms, letting them surround you and hold you as you bash your lips onto his.

He shyly returns, unsure of what to do.

“Stay with me tonight?”

You ask, unsure.

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

Lilia

“Young ___, enjoying the new year celebration ?”

Hearing him call you “young”, felt like a stab to the heart.

Lilia always seemed to see you as much too young, much to green, to ever see you as more.

“Yeah. I am. What about you?”

He smiled gently, swirling his glass.

“The new year is a time of change, supposedly. Of growth. But an old man like me can’t do much of those things anymore.”

He sipped on his glass, unbothered by the implications of his words.

“That’s not true. No matter your age, you can always change. Hopefully for the better! Besides, you aren’t that old, Lilia.”

A depressed smile decorates his feautures as he turns to you, so different from his mischievous ones you’re used to seeing.

“ What if I told you I was indeed that old, ___? Would you still want to stay here in hopes of a new years kiss? Of a romance with a fool long past his prime?”

Your eyes widen at his serious tone, no bitterness or happiness in it, nothing at all, just truly neutral questions.

Even so, you felt your conviction solidify.

“If the self proclaimed fool past his prime would at least entertain the idea of me actually being in love with him, he could believe me when I say, I want only you.”

A small incredulous laugh escapes the man by your side.

“Perhaps I should entertain that idea.”

“Not perhaps. You really should.”

You stare at him resolutely, his smile morphing into one of his familiar mischievous ones you liked so much.

“If that is the case, first I have to get a taste.”

In the blink of an eye, he had his lips on yours, warm and softly aggressive, his fangs perfurating your lips and leaving tiny dots of red blood behind.

The metallic taste lingered in your mouth even as he retreated.

“You taste rather appetizingly, ___.”

Your blood colors your cheeks as well as your lips, the perpetrator of both fixing a hair of yours behind your ear, blissfully aware of your bashfulness.

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cherry-leclerc · 9 months ago

Text

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad.

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away.

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp brows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed.

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write.

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek, jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come, let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.”

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance.

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hisses as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind.

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in.

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes.

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

The objective was quite clear. Get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“—then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off from somewhere far away and you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the place. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly.

“So am I.”

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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sophiethewitch1 · 11 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 7 days ago

Text

Honeybaby

The confession.

Set in New Years Eve 2023, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II. An immediate continuation of Catch My Breath.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Word Count : ~ 5600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

December 31st, 2022

London, United Kingdom

1500

'Ghost.'

Fuck, he thought. It's been 7 days since the Christmas party in Price's house. That was seven days without contact, without any interactions whatsoever. It had been seven days since they kissed, thanks to that damned mistletoe, and Seven days since Jade pecked him on his cheek.

He should admit, he still remembered the soft pressure on his cheek when she did that, and the fact that he’d been sneaking a hand to that part of his face to rub at it? It always brought him back to that night of December 24th.

Jade had left early. After the dinner with the team, she’d immediately helped Price around the house to tidy up, washed the dishes, and then left without telling Ghost anything.

Was he mad? Should he be mad?

Let's state the facts. They kissed under the mistletoe. It was her first kiss, and she consented to him doing it. And THEN, she asked him to do it again. It seemed like she liked it. He definitely liked it. As much as he hated the fact that it was because of a fucking mistletoe, he couldn't lie about how much he wanted to do that to her.

After that kiss, everything seemed okay. It was okay, they declared to stay friends - until she sneaked an unprecedented peck to his cheek.

He liked it. No, he loved it. Because it wasn't because of anything external. It was because of her own will, and that could not mean nothing.

What he didn't like though, was the reality that she left him hanging for 7 days. Seven days of uncertainty, Seven days of thinking of that little peck. Seven days of Johnny looking at him teasingly because he definitely knew something about that mistletoe and how he and Gaz absolutely had something to do with the location of that vegetation. Fucking hell.

And now, she'd texted him. The first text she'd sent to him after they got each others' numbers.

His heart raced again. She texted him his name and his heart was racing. God dammit, he truly felt like a bloody high schooler, for fuck's sake.

He typed, 'Jade.'

Not long, the woman texted him back,

'First off, I'm sorry for suddenly kissing you on the cheek. I broke your boundaries and it wasn't okay.'

She's apologising.

She's apologising for something he's happy about.

'And I'm sorry for not contacting you for a week. I kissed your cheek and then left without saying anything. It was unfair of me.'

Oh shit. She's continuing.

'I know how private you are with your identity, especially your face. Though I wish that you'd forgive me, it's fine if you don't.'

Fuuuuck.

'I just want to say that I'm sorry for doing that to you.'

'And I wish you could forget about it.'

This fucking woman…

—

There, she finally contacted him.

Ghost's a fast responder. She could tell that his phone's always active as he might get a call for deployment any time. He'd also immediately replied when she only texted his name.

Or had he been waiting for her to text him?

Bollocks. Anyway, she messed up. Leaving him hanging for a whole damn week. A WEEK.

She felt like an arsehole the whole time. Night and day she thought about it and what she should say to him.

It took her a long time to realise, but the days that they'd spent together in Las Almas, the days they worked together, it was one of the best missions she'd ever went on. If she could erase the bloody parts, she'd wish she could experience it again.

Jade cared for him more than she liked to admit. Jade wanted him to be happy. She wanted to see him smile more; she wanted to be close to him. She wanted to know him more. She felt safe with him, she felt like the world’s a better place beside him.

Jade sighed out loud, sitting on her worktable. The Garden was so damn busy this time of year, varying from people celebrating their years together, people declaring their love, or people remembering the love that they had. It was beautiful when she thought about it. People usually buy flowers to give it to someone. It’s a sign of love, showing that I care. Sometimes people give it to other people, sometimes for themselves as well. They give it to family members and friends; alive, or those who've left them earlier.

New Years had always been a mixture of emotions for her because of this line of work; because of how emotional it is.

But this one in particular, she couldn’t focus at all because of him. She’d been thinking about that kiss, and how she wanted to tell him that she meant it. Oh how bad she wanted to tell him that she cared for him.

But then, what did he feel towards her? Was he disgusted that she pecked him without his permission? How stupid, how inconsiderate of her to do that! Thinking about it made her want to scream into the skies at how brainless, imbecilic that act was.

And so, after days of thinking, what she wanted was for him to forget about it.

Because let’s be real. Why would he like her back? He’s a man who conceals his identity precisely so the people around him would stay away from him and not get too close. He must actively avoid people in his life to keep him away from danger and keep them away from danger. Ghost wouldn’t let himself slip like that easily, wouldn’t he?

Ghost? Liking someone?

-- INCOMING CALL --

- Beanpole 💀💢 -

Oh bollocks. He called her. He’s calling her!! Why was he calling her???

‘Answer the call.’ He texted her again, the calling line still active.

Oh no.

‘Now.’

With that, Jade tapped and slid the green icon upwards, putting the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Jade, what kind of fucking bullshit did you just text me.”

Oh shite. He’s livid.

“Ghost I– I didn’t mean that peck. It was just a–”

“Just what? An instinct? Your MI6 instinct?!”

“I was–”

“You're telling me that we just kissed, twice, you left a peck on my face, and you want me to act like it never happened?”

Jade couldn’t say anything to that.

“You’d better believe Price sleeps without his hat first to say that, because for fuck’s sake – what you just said has no logical thinking to it!” He rumbled with his deep voice,

“You want me to forget about it?! Well I can’t!”

Jade had never heard him with this tone before. Ghost’s voice had always been raspy and harsh, filled with a commanding quality necessary in battle. But this tone sounded like he was in absolute anguish.

What he said was right. What she asked would be impossible. She’d been too selfish to think about what he’d want.

Silence lingered on the line, save for Ghost's soft breath after he raised his voice.

Who’s going to say anything at this point? Both of them were confused as to what they should say or what they should do.

“...You busy tonight?” Ghost finally started, making Jade flinch. His voice was back to calm.

“...We’re quite busy at New Years, but our shop closes at 10 PM.”

“Good. RV with me at this location after you’re done.” Right after he said that, Jade received a location ping.

“Ghost… This place is…”

“We need to talk, and not via phone call like this.”

“...Okay.”

“Good. See you there.”

—

Whitehall Garden, London, UK

31.12.2022 2235

Sea of people had filled the edges of the Thames River. One and a half hours before the year changes, the people of London had gathered right across the infamous London Eye in order to witness the drones and fireworks show that the city prepared annually. Jade was a fan of fireworks shows. She adored the beautiful colours that filled the night sky, especially the New Year's, as it’s literally only done once a year.

And now, Ghost told her to meet him in front of the Ministry of Defence building. Standing in front of the General Charles Gordon Statue with tons of other people, she’d wondered of Ghost’s whereabouts. That man could only be seen if he wanted to be seen, there’s no doubt about that.

Jade had texted him that she was at the RV point, 'I'm here.' and he'd already read it. So it's probably not long until she meets him.

"Jade."

A deep, harsh voice that could only belong to Ghost called from right behind her. She turned around on reflex, and found the 6'3" man standing right behind her, just a few mere inches away from each other.

Ghost's wearing a hoodie with his hood up and a pair of jeans with dark shoes. His face was not covered by the iconic skull-painted balaclava. Instead, he wore a black face mask in place of it. His black eye paint was not present around his eyes. She also noticed that he brought a backpack on his back.

Realising that he's far too close for her to think, Jade took a small step back.

"Hey Ghost. So what's the plan?" She shrugged her shoulders, her breaths turning into clouds in the air. "Do you want us to talk here? In the sea of humans?"

"Absolutely not. Follow me and stay close." Ghost turned around and started walking towards the Ministry of Defense building's side entrance. Once they reached the door, Ghost opened the thick wooden door and allowed Jade to enter first before closing the door behind him. The inside of the building was a dark main hall, only a few lights were on.

"Beanpole, what are we doin' here? Are we even allowed to be here?"

"Just follow me." The both of them then fast walked along the walls, until they reached the lift. The man pressed the up button and opened the lift door.

Entering the lift, Jade saw that in order to press a floor, it required an authorised key card. "It needs a keycard. What, do you have it?"

Ghost pulled out a key card, swiped along the electronic key and pressed the button with the highest floor. The metal door closed shut, and the lift started to carry both people up.

"Where did you get that card?" Jade asked out of curiosity, the whirr of the lift being their only company.

"I've got contacts."

"...which was?"

"Guy who goes by the name Roach. He used to be my mate in SAS but now he works here."

"Oh."

'Roach'? Peculiar name. Well, both of them had that 'unkillable' trait to their call signs so Jade could definitely see them being mates.

Reaching the top floor, the metal door opened, revealing a dark hallway after which Ghost led her again to the emergency staircases, where an old, classic-looking staircase was leading up to another upper part of the building. They climbed the stairs again, where the room that could be interpreted as the building's attic was located.

Ghost strolled to the furthest side of the attic, where they climbed another stair into a small balcony high up, closer to where the roof was. Ghost then pressed a chain of 5 numbers on the electronic key on the wall, which made the attic door above them open as they saw the night sky.

As the ladder descended, Jade started. “When you sent me the location of the MOD main building, I thought we were gonna watch fireworks down there.”

He stayed silent, his hands still pulling down the ladder.

“Well, you’ve told me you don’t fancy crowded places. I understand. But on the roofs of MOD? This is new.” Jade continued.

Should he admit that he never really watched fireworks shows? Should he admit that he hated places with too much noise that sometimes his nerves could go into overdrive?

Ghost didn’t say anything until the ladder was down to the floor. “Hop up.” He said, before climbing up the high ladders, Jade followed him from behind.

Once he’s up on the roof, Ghost popped his head to see her below, and unexpectedly, the masked man offered his hand down.

“Take my hand.”

Jade could admit that it still felt weird to see the skin on his bare hands, considering how often he used that skeleton painted gloves. That glove was so iconic Jade had seen it as his actual hand. Now that he was offering his hand, Jade immediately took his bigger palm, where he almost took her entire weight on his arm, making it easier to climb.

The last time he carried her was when she got shot during the prison break in Las Almas. She remembered how Ghost caught her fall and how he carried her to the van with the 141. Remembering that moment made her blush.

Once both of them stepped on the roofs, Jade looked to the other side of the Thames River, where the London Eye stood tall in bright, white lights that lit up the horizons. The Whitehall Garden below was covered with a sea of humans; families, friends, loved ones, together for the last moments of the year.

And when she looked to her side, there stood Ghost, viewing the London Eye just the same. His dark eyes reflected the white lights just right. Jade would be lying if she didn’t find him looking good today. Black was made for him. Not that she’d ever seen him in any other colour before, but seeing him in civvies without the skull mask on sight – It always reminded her that beneath all the ‘Ghost’ facade, he was just another regular bloke underneath. Just a dude named Simon.

The man looked down at his wrist, where his watch showed 22:58. “Good, we’re right on time. Sit down.”

Ghost sat down first, followed by Jade who sat down to his right. They were almost at the edge of the building and she must agree that this was the best spot to see the London Eye.

For a while, they sat there, no words exchanged between them. The winter winds of London brought her – for once – undone hair into the air. Ghost sneaked a glance at her appearance; Long dark green coat, soft brown pants, knitted gloves, and an oversized plaid scarf that messily surrounded her neck and shoulders, plus her wavy hair free falling onto her shoulders and back.

The woman sitting beside him was looking gorgeous in a way that he'd never seen before. She'd always been graceful in appearance, even in combat. It didn't even help him that he was basically asking her to spend New Year's Eve with him instead of with her family. Unlike him who had no family member left to spend his days with, Jade had her parents, she had her coworkers in her florist, and she volunteered for her old orphanage and for a local caring home. Unlike him, Jade was sociable and knew a lot of people.

"Midget." He started, prompting the woman to look at him.

"Hm?"

"You don't celebrate New Year with your parents?"

That question made her smile. "Yeah, I usually go to Piccadilly Circus with them. But when I told them I planned to spend New Year's with a ‘friend from work’, my parents dressed me up in… this, and pushed me out of the house."

Ghost scoffed, "Did you tell them who you're going to meet?"

"No, I didn't. Just 'a friend from work'." The smile on her face grew wider, "You can visit the shop sometime if you want. Probably have a tea or two–"

"No." Ghost cut her words almost immediately. That made Jade flinch. "It's better for them if they never met me."

That sentence caught her attention.

"It will only endanger themselves." His words confirmed her thoughts. As she looked at him with her green eyes, Jade could sense the loneliness in him.

Jade sighed, "Okay. I understand." Watching her breath turn into clouds in the air, she continued, "In this one particular mission… My work followed me home."

Now it's her turn to catch Ghost's attention.

"This one guy wanted to take his revenge on me. I was on the other side of the world when it happened, and he told me that his men got my Pa and Ma on his hitmen's scopes."

"I was fuming mad at him, but then… the hitmen were suddenly MIA. Lost communication." Ghost had decided that this was an interesting story.

"When he shouted to call for the hitmen… my Pa's voice sounded through the radio, saying, "Try again." I swear, my soul almost left my body at that time." The ginger lightly laughed at the memory. "I almost forgot that both of my parents were literal seasoned MI6 black agents."

'Ah, she's lucky.' Ghost thought to himself. Her family consisted of retired black agents, that must be relieving. Unfortunately, not all parents are kind, loving ex-MI6 agents who could take care of themselves.

"Nevertheless, even though I know they were probably better agents than I was in their younger days, and they can definitely take care of themselves… I don't want them to go through that." She continued.

"I love them. And I want them to be safe. Far from any danger that I might bring back from my work. So yes, I understand where you're coming from. But still," Jade tilted her head, “My offer still stands. You can come by anytime, any day.”

Jade finished as her hands pulled out a metallic tumbler. She popped up the lid and started to drink from it.

"What are you drinkin'?"

"Chamomile tea. And!" Jade's hands entered her bag again, and pulled out another black-coloured tumbler before handing it to him. "Here. For you."

Eyeing the bottle in suspicion, Ghost took the tumbler on his hands. "What is this?" He popped out the lid and lowered his mask to his upper lip, taking a sniff of the drink in question. It released steam that immediately disappeared into the winter wind.

"It's something I think you'd like."

It didn't smell suspicious, so Ghost glanced at the woman, before finally lowering his mask to his chin, taking a sip from the tumbler.

"...Black tea?"

Jade smiled at that. "Yep! Your fave." Jade remembered exactly how he didn't like her chamomile tea back in Fuerzas Especiales base, so when she thought about going with tea, she decided to bring another one with black tea. "Is it good?"

"That's alright." He said before drinking again. Looking at him liking the tea, Jade celebrated inside her head.

Putting down the black tumbler on the roof, it's time for Ghost to take his backpack. "Shame. I also brought something."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm the one who invited you, so I must bring somethin' right?"

From inside his bag (which by the way, was FILLED with foam), he pulled out a green bottle with another light brown coloured one, along with two paper cups.

"YOU BROUGHT GIN AND BOURBON IN YOUR BACKPACK?" Jade was absolutely astounded at this man's bag. What's even more surprising was what he pulled out next. "O–Oh my goodness me…"

Ghost put down two double quarter pounders with cheeseburgers, along with fries in front of them. The utter shock was painted all over her face.

"I don't know what else you like."

Jade laughed out loud at this man's actions. He actually bought Micky D's before going to the RV point. And the fact that he said he didn’t know what else she’d like except Gin for alcohol and a double quarter pounder with cheese and fries, it’s probably the funniest thing she had ever seen him do.

She couldn’t hold back her loud laugh that she tipped her body back, almost falling. Saying that Ghost didn’t like the sound of that would be an utter complete lie.

“Oh my GOSH, Simon!” She clapped her hand together, still wheezing from laughter. "You are a top lad!"

Ghost grinned as he observed Jade's laugh. The only thing he did was listen to what she said was her favourite junk food meal back in Las Almas, and now he bought it for her. Nothing big at all, yet her smile was the widest he's seen her.

“Let me.” He poured each liquor to their respective paper cups a good amount. Giving the Gin one to her hand.

For moments they filled their guts with the snacks Ghost brought. He took a glance at the woman beside him every once in a while, looking at how she ate the burger and fries, and how she cutely scrunched her face when the gin caught the back of her throat. He too was eating away at his own burger. To be honest, this was his first time eating junk food in a while. It's been years since he enjoyed a delicious, trashy fast food because of his constant deployments and, basic health, of course. But being with her, he felt like just letting go. He didn't feel like eating something hard-earned. Just an easy quick fucking burger with fries.

Licking her fingers from the fries flakes, Jade started. “Look at us. Eating a double quarter pounder with fries, with booze on the side, on the roof of the Ministry of Defence, waiting for the New Year countdown in front of London Eye. What. A. Scene.”

Suddenly, Jade noticed that Ghost shivered a bit. He took another gulp of the bourbon before finishing his burger.

"Are you cold?"

"...No."

"You're shivering."

"I'm not."

"...Your cheeks are red."

"They are not."

"You always cover them with your mask but they're clearly blushing from the cold."

“You’re seeing things.”

“...Alright, then. That is it.” Out of nowhere, Jade scooted closer to him, pulled half of her scarf before tugging them around Ghost's neck, creating a connection between the both of them.

"Wh-What are you doin’?”

Still tidying the scarf, she answered, “How can I eat peacefully if you’re shivering beside me like this?” Patting the scarf softly in finality, Jade muttered, "There. If it's cold, the solution is to wear more layers. Not drink alcohol. Take this as a payback for lending me your jacket a week ago."

Ah, yes. The jacket she threw to his face after she pecked him on the cheek. He's not going to lie, he should’ve worn that jacket today. The cold was no joke at all. They both rubbed their hands together, and covered their mouths and nose with it, blowing more warm air towards their palms to keep the heat.

Just as they observed the London Eye, Ghost’s watch showed 23.56, signaling the start of the light shows that began commencing right in front of them.

Jade stared at the holograms and dancing drones in the sky, captivated by the attraction, until Ghost called her name.

“Jade.”

“Hm?” She replied, her eyes kept looking at the light show.

“Listen… If you think it's okay, I'm about to say somethin', alright?” said Ghost, as the cold wind kept blowing gently.

What was he about to say? How should she react? Those were the thoughts that crossed her mind. Her racing heart was beating so loud caused by all the questions inside her head. Looking at the direction of the conversation, he might tell her something really, really important.

“ …Alright.” fingers crossed inside her head, Jade shifted her head to look at his eyes, and it was, for the first time, filled with such vulnerability and tenderness. The absence of the black paint left his brown eyes bare – nothing to hide, no front to put up.

“After I say this, I think things will never be the same, though I hope otherwise.” Putting his fists on his knees, Ghost began.

“Ever since I delved into this occupation, I fully commit my life to the job; there's no room for compromise, and if my life ended, then at least I died fighting for my cause.”

His tone grew slightly sombre, probably from remembering the times he enlisted into the army, all the hardships, all the pain and suffering he endured inside and outside the army, it all had made him who he was right here and then.

“But recently, I felt something that I haven't felt in a long, long time, and I thought I must be out of my mind to allow myself to feel this way. “ Ghost continued, his eyes grew softer. It's almost like she saw a glint of light and hope in his eyes.

“I admit that I've been an arse to you; I hadn't been nice, and I don't think I deserve to feel this way for you."

"At first, I didn't know what I was feeling. You were too good at what you do, and you gained my trust all too quickly. But the more I know you, the more I spend my time with you, it became clearer – I admire you, I respect you, I revere you. Until it grows to something more than that.”

Ten! Nine! Eight!

“I thought if I let it be, my feelings would dissipate and go away, but it only became stronger. I can't get you out of my head."

Seven! Six! Five!

“I'm not good with words, so I will say this once.”

Four! Three!

"You brought up a part of me that I didn't know I had. And I like myself more every time I'm with you."

Two!

"Lottie,"

One!

Hundreds and hundreds of little lights shot up into the sky, flying high into the infinite black above. Along with the loud cheers of the people below, the lights exploded and dispersed into beautiful colours of red and blue, filling the night sky with a kaleidoscope-like view. The great bell of Big Ben chimed over and over, bearing witness to the change of the year, the London Eye flashed into colours of blue and red and white.

Ghost never liked New Year's.

He never liked the noises and the sounds of explosions as his nerves and senses went into overdrive at the place where they weren't supposed to. In the battlefield, this bodily reaction would come in handy – it kept him alive. But right at that moment, when Ghost declared his honest feelings to Jade, this might be the worst – and at the same time – the best place to do it.

Jade loved New Year's.

For most of her life, those days were the reason she kept going, to at least survive, and live for another year – just to witness the fireworks. She never once missed a fireworks show, even if she was somewhere else around the world for an assignment, Jade would find a big city and witness the colours of New Year's. Even if she was somewhere where people didn’t celebrate, she’d quickly turn on the TV, however bad the quality was.

Even if she had to camp in the middle of nowhere, she would bring a sparkler rod beforehand, lighting them up as a little firework right in front of her face.

She had to witness them.

Yet as of this moment, she couldn’t be bothered to even look at the fireworks, as her green eyes were fixed only on the man beside her.

If she were to be honest, Jade couldn’t quite hear what he said. The noises were very loud, almost deafening, coming from everywhere around them. The sounds of explosions, chimes of the big ben, loud cheers of the people below, and the music from the London Eye.

But it didn’t take a heavily trained MI6 agent to read lips, especially when he’s speaking right in front of her.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Her eyes widened at those words. No one had ever said that to her before in her life, not one that made her heart race, but also one that made a thousand butterflies fly inside of her.

“But I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And just like that, Ghost left her speechless. The butterflies flying inside her stomach had flown to God knows where. Lights from the fireworks had not stopped exploding, and the noise didn’t dissipate. It only grew louder and louder – a contrast to what was happening inside Jade’s mind right at that moment.

Ghost saw her entire expression. It was a mix of delight yet of confusion. A face of joy and love, yet of bewilderment. It’s like she’s still processing his words, and understandably so. He felt like an utter and complete arse at that moment. He just confessed his feelings to her, only to say that he cannot dedicate himself to it.

For a moment, he kept looking at her face. The fireworks light reflecting on her skin, the cold winter wind combing through her wavy hair.

She’s so goddamn beautiful. Fucking hell. How can he not love her? It’s impossible for him not to fall for her.

It took a really long time for her to finally change her expression. He thought he saw her breath hitched before closing her lips together tightly. It seemed that she’d finally regained her composure, so he continued.

Ghost balled his fist even tighter on his knees, “This job is essentially my whole life, and it’s full of uncertainty. You said you felt safe with me, Lottie, but it’s not true.” He swallowed, “Being with me is anything but safe.”

Jade only stared at him.

“You deserve the whole world, Jade, and I’m afraid I cannot give it to you. I care for you more than I thought I did.” He admitted. “I want to make you happy, but I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Ghost kept on observing her reactions, but she gave none. The woman’s expression looked… empty. Was it her instinct to not give out any expressions during vulnerable times? It might be so, considering her background. Still, what did he expect? For her to be mad? Cry? Disappointed?

Instead, what Ghost saw before him a few seconds later was an expression of… relief? He didn’t know what to interpret them as, but Jade smiled. It was full of sincerity and at the same time, sadness. He was a little bit taken aback at that. Part of him thought that their relationship that they’d built through hard-earned trust would go down the drain from his words alone. However, it was not what happened, as she called his name.

“Simon.”

He blinked, waiting for her next words.

“Can I hug you? Please?”

Jade's plea sounded like a person's last wish.

It saddened him so. He wanted her to be happy. God, he wanted to. But in the current state he is in right now, it's almost impossible.

So he nodded softly, and she embraced him in a soft, warm hug. Jade's chin rested on his shoulder, his chin on hers. Their bodies pressed together, arms circling their figures so tight, yet so gently. His long arms could almost envelop her entire figure in a bear hug.

Ghost closed his eyes, smelling the scent of her hair that touched his face from the blowing wind, pressing his palms on her back to feel her as close as possible.

As the fireworks kept coming up, they hugged like a lifeline. Not wanting to let go, at least he didn't.

"You've told me what you wanted to say. Now I'll say what I want to say, alright?" Still pressing her cheek to her neck, she voiced softly.

"...alright," he replied.

Jade grasped his jacket, took a deep breath, and started, "I've never met someone who's so similar to me. I've always lived alone, thrived alone, and survived alone, until I met you."

Ghost stayed still.

"I said it before, I feel safe with you. I can be myself. I don't have to hide anything. And I care for you."

"You said you want to make me happy, so I'll say this: I want to see you happy, more than anything. Nothing makes me happier than looking at your smile."

In the middle of the loud noise, she confessed.

"I love you too, Simon.”

Hearing that sentence felt like a boulder had just been lifted up from his shoulder; his chest that felt tight for God knows how long released its tension. He tightened his hold on her ever so gently. God, she's so warm.

For a while they hugged, not saying anything, until Jade rubbed his back up and down. Realizing that they need to part, Ghost let out a breath that dissipated into the air.

They stared at each other's eyes. Everything was different now. The person in front of them knew that they loved one another; recognizing that the person in front of them meant the whole world to each other. A moment of epiphany reflected in their eyes.

Ghost started. "Let's not change, yeah?"

Jade's mind interpreted that into two meaning, but she chose to believe the more hopeful and the certainly better one. From the way he looked at her, Jade was sure that she's right.

She nodded, "Yeah. Of course. But..."

That last word made Ghost flinch. Who said only he could say a 'but'?

"I'm not someone who will sit and wait, Simon."

Ghost widened his eyes.

"I love you, and I'm here for you. You're the only one for me." She continued. "But I'm not going to ask you 'what are we?' after too long."

Her eyes reflected a kind of conviction she'd always displayed in the battlefield. Jade might be a warm, kind-hearted, most uncomplaining woman he'd ever met, but she's not a fool either.

"I'm ready. I want us to be ready. So I will wait for you." Jade declared with finality. A smile formed in her lips.

Her words might be the ones entering his ears, but Ghost's mind registered one phrase.

'Don't play with my heart.'

Like he would. That's the last thing he wanted. Jade's heart was the last thing he wanted to play with and make wait. He must admit, he hadn't seen all sides of Jade yet. And Jade hadn't seen all sides of him. But he's willing to reveal them -- in time.

Ghost smiled back. "Yes Ma'am."

---

Journey back to The Garden was… normal. It wasn't awkward nor anything uncomfortable given that they just literally confessed their affection for each other, rather a pleasant walk and bus ride, thanks to Jade's conversational skills that were superior compared to his. She'd asked multiple questions about himself, and not the deep ones, but the very mundane, unimportant facts.

"What's your favorite season?"

"Summer.”

"Do you watch Football?"

"Only on some occasions.'

"I find that hard to believe. Who do you support?"

"City."

"Oh. Is blue your favorite color?"

"Black is, but I just found out some time ago that black is a shade, not a color. So blue it is."

"I'd really love to see you in blue outfits."

He made a mental note on that.

It didn't feel like 1 hour of commute for them to find themselves in front of The Garden. It's 2 AM, but some lights were still shining since it's the first day of the year, casting a light on their faces.

Jade looked at Ghost, glancing at the pavements to avoid her gaze.

"Beanpole."

He looked at her.

Her gentle voice felt like a warm glow of the sun in the middle of winter, "Happy new year."

Ghost couldn't hold the grin on his face. Yep. It is a new year indeed. New beginnings, new journeys, new endings. "Another fuckin' trip around the sun."

They giggled together, the sound so pleasing to their ears. They couldn't wait to hear more of it.

"I should call it a night. We're opening the shop early this morning."

"Oh. Yeah, you should rest." He sounded disappointed.

Jade lifted her hand, held it into a fist, and lightly pushed it on Ghost's chest. "See you, Simon."

"See you, Lottie." Ghost raised his right hand to tap Jade's shoulder once.

What she didn't expect though, his hand ran slowly along her clothed arms, from her shoulder, her arm, down to her forearms, ending on her hand. His palm ran noticeably slower once he reached the back of her hand.

He subtly traced her knuckles and to the most end of her fingers, making the most out of that touch, before his legs shifted to walk away.

"Text me, yeah?" Ghost said with finality, their distance increasing.

"You text me." Jade said with a loud volume. She could tell he's laughing as he started to disappear from view.

Jade smiled, rubbing her hands together to keep the heat on her hand. Remembering all the things that happened tonight. Gosh, that was something else.

She started to giggle, squealing in a high pitch when she remembered the words he said. Her feet tapped side by side on the snowy pavement. Ghost? Saying those words?? Oh, she might fly away. He said he's bad with words, but that was not bad at all (not that she had any comparison. Still, he could be sweet when he wanted to.

"Lottie? Back already?" A man's voice muttered to her.

Jade looked to the side, recognising her father and mother, walking hand-in-hand, looking as romantic as ever. They clearly looked so happy together, spending another new year's eve with each other's company.

"Yeah. I just got back too." Jade nodded.

"Great! I cooked some chicken casserole after you left. Let's feast on that and maybe get some wine yeah?" Her mother chimed, while her father kissed her on the forehead.

Jade reflected on the life she'd lead, and the lives that both of her parents had lived as retired black agents who'd ben through hell and back. The gratefulness that they felt each year, to spend it with the most important person in their lives.

What a dream that was.

What a dream to live.

Fin.

---

Happy New Years 2025 everyone!! 🤩 May this year be cheerful and bright, bringing up hope and joy to us all.

Thank you for reading!

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #ghost x jade #ghostjade #ghost x oc #simon riley

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inknopewetrust · 5 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲

Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}

Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?

Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]

“Where are we going?”

The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.

Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.

“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”

Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.

“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”

“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”

Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.

He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.

But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.

And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.

It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.

Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.

Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.

Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.

Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.

The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.

And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.

It was all nothing until something caught your eye.

You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.

Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.

Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.

So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.

And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.

“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.

Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.

“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”

“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”

Oh.

It was personal.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”

You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.

“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“

He brushed the nonverbal apology away.

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”

It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.

Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.

You could feel the sparks hit your heart.

“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

“No?”

“You’d be the first.”

The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.

The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.

As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.

It was beautiful.

Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.

It was so peaceful, charming.

The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.

He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.

“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”

“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.

Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”

His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.

“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.

“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”

“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”

Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.

“They just don’t see what I do.”

“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.

“Magic.”

You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.

Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.

However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.

Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.

You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.

The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”

And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.

You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.

“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.

Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.

He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.

“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”

“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.

“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.

“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”

He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”

Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”

You moved closer. “Not really.”

“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”

There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.

You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.

You shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”

“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”

In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.

You were giddy.

Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.

“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.

You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.

“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s just beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I’m can—“

You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.

It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.

“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.

“How’d you know!?”

“Just did!”

“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.

He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.

“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”

“Me either.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.

Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.

You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.

You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #tyler owens twisters #twisters #twister 2024 #glen powell #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #twisters movie #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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wtfsteveharrington · 9 months ago

Text

take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

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wholoveseggs · 11 months ago

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Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could whip up a little something about the reader because self conscious and comparing herself to Hayley maybe she’s a little chubby and such so when Hayley comes back into their lives she’s a little worried. But Elijah always the gentleman comforts her with some good ol sex 🤪🤪 if not feel free to ignore 💕

Reminder

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your relationship with Elijah feels like its unravelling with the arrival of Hayley and a cutting nickname from Klaus. Fortunately, Elijah knows just what to do to make you feel loved.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, this one goes out to all my thick thighed brothers & sisters. May you all find an Elijah to suffocate between them. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, face sitting, Klaus being cruel, Elijah being sweet.

When you are a vampire time passes differently, things change around you, and sometimes you feel like the odd man out. When you first met Elijah everything was different. Culture, language, even the food and the music. He was captivated by you instantly, he whisked you away from your difficult life and kept you in his bed. Making sure you knew how much he loved every inch of your body. He was your first and only lover, the man who turned you and showed you a world you never thought was possible.

Centuries had passed with just the two of you, then Klaus returned to your lives and with him came the lovely Hayley Marshall. Pregnant, doe eyed and absolutely beautiful.

You weren't jealous at first, Elijah was devoted to you and only you. His heart was yours, that was all you cared about. But Klaus brought his chaos with him, and your noble lover had to keep Hayley safe. She needed to be protected, so Elijah spent more time with her and less with you.

You were alone, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. You felt forgotten and unloved. Elijah did his best to spend time with you, but it wasn't enough.

Then your mind started playing cruel tricks on you, making you see Hayley and Elijah together. She was so pretty, her body was tall and thin, while yours was plump and soft. You had nightmares of Elijah touching her, kissing her, making her moan his name.

It made you want to throw up.

The whole thing made you feel irrational and insecure, Elijah loved you, he told you all the time, but still the thoughts lingered.

It wasn't until Klaus gave you a certain nickname, that it truly got under your skin.

Little wolf he would purr, calling Hayley to him, the words fell off his tongue like honey. It was such an affectionate term, one with many layers of meaning. It was beautiful and sweet, and Klaus seemed so proud to call her this.

But then there was his nickname for you, Elijah's little cherub.

It was not meant as an endearment, but as an insult. Klaus was right, you did look a little like a cherub, soft, round cheeks, and a full, thick body. It hurt you, even if you tried not to let it get to you. You told yourself that Klaus wasn't important, his opinion didn't matter. But the words he spoke stuck in your mind.

Everything was going fine, you had mastered keeping your insecurities under wraps, until Klaus and Elijah announced that they were throwing a ball.

It was Elijah's first time hosting one since the two of you moved to New Orleans. He was a natural at hosting parties, he knew just how to make everyone feel welcome. It was a trait you didn't have. You were too quiet and reserved, people would get bored with you and leave. Elijah was the life of the party, everyone wanted to be around him. You were afraid you would ruin it for him.

You never felt good in gowns, you felt big and bulky. The ones you tried on just made you look worse. You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like an overstuffed pillow. There was no way you could go out in public like this. You even dug out an old corset to try and make yourself look smaller. It just made your breasts spill out over the top. You were mortified and threw the thing in the garbage. You were starting to wonder what Elijah saw in you.

When he entered your bedroom, you were sitting on the bed, resigning yourself to the dress that you knew didn't suit you. He had been busy with the ball, and hadn't noticed your sour mood. He was all smiles, telling you how beautiful you would look in your dress, and how proud he was to have you by his side. He was dressed impeccably as always, and you felt frumpy and out of place. How could you possibly look good next to him?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied in a small voice, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

You walked downstairs and the guests began to arrive, all the while Elijah's hand rested on the small of your back. He left you to go greet some guests and you spotted Klaus. He grinned and you saw the flash of his dimples as he made his way over to you. You knew he was going to make a comment, you dreaded hearing what it was going to be.

"Hello, little cherub," he smirked, and your heart sank.

"Please don't call me that," you whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

"Why ever not? You do look like one," he said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, not wanting to deal with his teasing.

"My brother certainly does seem fond of you, which is odd, considering his type usually looks more like..." he gestured to Hayley, who was across the room talking with Elijah.

You frowned, trying to swallow the insecurity bubbling up, but Klaus still noticed, "Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, why would you?" you lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be too upset, cherub, you may not be his usual type, but he seems to enjoy the extra cushion."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was true that Elijah was quite fit and lean, while you were much softer and thicker. It made you insecure and now that he pointed it out, it felt even worse. You looked over at Elijah, who was talking to Hayley, they looked so good together, she was a perfect match for him.

"You really are an ass," you told him.

He chuckled and said, "I never said it was a bad thing, I think you are rather lovely,"

Elijah glanced up and saw the distress on your face. He immediately excused himself from his conversation and came to you. He could tell that something was bothering you.

"What did you do?" he asked Klaus.

"Me? Nothing," Klaus shrugged. "I was just complimenting your lovely companion," he continued, smirking at you.

Elijah's attention was on you now, he knew something was wrong. His brow furrowed, he could sense your anguish. But before he could say anything Hayley joined the group, her eyes moving from Klaus, to Elijah, and then settling on you.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to sound friendly.

You nodded politely, not wanting to be impolite, despite the way her presence made you feel. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea you felt this way.

Elijah's hand brushed over the small of your back, trying to comfort you. He didn't realize it, but his touch was having the opposite effect, it was making you even more self conscious. Did he feel obligated to touch you like that? Did he do it for show? Was he just being polite? Your brain was coming up with every reason possible to feel terrible.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay here, watching them, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, feeling more alone than ever.

You looked over at Elijah, and saw him gazing at you. His eyes were filled with adoration, but it was hard for you to believe it. The voice in your head kept repeating, that Klaus was right, he doesn't really love you, he's just too polite to say anything.

"I was hoping to get a proper tour of the house," Hayley said, interrupting your thoughts, "I've never seen the upstairs rooms, will you show me y/n?"

The question caught you off guard, you had no interest in spending time with her, and it felt like she was just being polite. You wanted to say no, but that would have been rude. So instead you smiled and nodded, following her out of the ballroom and into the hall.

You led her upstairs and she stopped, her eyes scanning the pictures on the wall. Her fingers gently brushed over the frames, and she pointed out an old portrait of the Mikaelson Family.

"God, they are all so beautiful," she sighed, and you knew she was right. Rebekah was stunning, Klaus had a wild, handsome charm, and Elijah was a classic, elegant beauty. They were all perfection, and you had no idea what they were doing with you.

"Is that Freya?" she asked, pointing at another portrait, "she's stunning,"

You nodded, feeling awkward. This was the last place you wanted to be.

Hayley smiled, turning her attention back to the wall, and continued walking. You trailed behind, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to say. Hayley stopped in front of a particular painting, a portrait of you and Elijah. She smiled, and you felt your heart skip, it was your favorite portrait of the two of you.

"You two look so in love," she said, and your stomach twisted.

"Yes, we are," you replied, trying to sound sincere, when really all you wanted to do was cry.

"How did the two of you meet?" she asked.

"He turned me in the 16th century, I was his seamstress," you explained, smiling a little.

Hayley looked at you with surprise, her eyebrows raised, "You fixed up his suits?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing suits back then, but he's always been very fashionable. He liked the way I stitched his shirts," you told her.

"How fast did you two fall in love?"

You bit your lip, and answered, "Well, he persued me for quite a while before I agreed to be with him,"

"Why? Were you scared?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"No, not exactly," you blushed, looking down at the floor.

"Well, what was it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

You gave Hayley a skeptical look, women that looked like her never thought about these kinds of things.

"I mean, he's so gorgeous, and I'm..."

You looked down at your body, your mind conjuring up a list of flaws. Hayley could see the change in your demeanor, she could sense your discomfort. She stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I think you're pretty," she smiled, her hands giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted to the floor, and you felt the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Thank you, Hayley," you murmured.

"And Elijah thinks the same thing, I've seen the way he looks at you," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

You glanced up and saw the truth in her eyes, there was a softness, and a hint of jealousy.

"Thank you," you said, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Of course," she smiled, "I hope I can find a man who looks at me the way Elijah looks at you,"

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "How does he look at me?"

"Like you are the most beautiful thing in the world," she replied, and her voice sounded wistful.

She turned her gaze to the portraits and continued her exploration. You followed, and as you got closer to the end, Hayley paused, her gaze lingering on the portrait of Klaus.

"I hope our child has his dimples," she sighed.

"And not his ego," you teased, and her face split into a grin.

"That's fair," she laughed, her hand falling on the slight bump of her belly.

You continued your tour of the house, showing her the rest of the rooms, and trying to keep the conversation light. Hayley was kind, and didn't seem to notice your discomfort. When you returned to the ballroom, Elijah was standing with his brother, their heads bowed together, discussing something. He looked up when he saw you and his lips curled into a smile.

Hayley's eyes flicked to Elijah and then back to you, "See, there it is, that look,"

You blushed, and turned your head away. Elijah looked at you with love and affection, but your doubts still lingered.

"Did you enjoy the tour with the little cherub?" Klaus asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hayley gave him a warning look, her voice laced with an unspoken threat, "Don't call her that,"

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, but the damage was done, you felt so humilated and embarrassed, you had enough of Klaus and his cruel comments. You had enough of him constantly making you feel bad about yourself. He made it impossible for you to feel secure in your relationship. You felt uncomfortable in your dress, in your own skin, surrounded by people who were objectively better than you in every possible way.

"I'm going to bed," you announced, your voice quiet.

Elijah's brow furrowed, and he reached out to grasp your hand but you pulled away.

"I'm tired," you said, turning on your heel and marching out of the ballroom.

Elijah's eyes were locked on your retreating form, a frown on his face.

"Why did you call her that?" Elijah asked his brother.

"It's nothing," Klaus shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, "she's just a little sensitive,"

Elijah's frown deepened, and he glanced over at Hayley.

"She's a sweet girl, just a little insecure," Hayley sighed.

"Insecure about what?" Elijah asked.

Hayley glanced at Klaus, and he shrugged.

"She's just not really comfortable with herself," Hayley finally said, giving Klaus a pointed look.

He had no shame, his grin only grew wider, and he said, "Come on, she is rather plump, isn't she?"

"But she's so sweet and adorable," Hayley added, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Elijah's jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, he looked back and forth between both of them.

"You had no right to say those things to her," he told Klaus, his voice laced with anger. "She has a difficult time when it comes to seeing her own worth, you know that, she's been struggling with these issues since the day we met," Elijah continued.

"It's nothing, Elijah," Klaus shrugged, "she'll get over it, she's probably crying into her pillow right now."

The image of you, curled up in bed, sobbing, broke Elijah's heart. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed. Klaus really did go too far this time, he really upset you. Elijah would make sure it never happened again.

"Excuse me," he muttered, glaring at his brother before turning around and storming out of the ballroom.

Once you were safely locked away in your bedroom, you sobbed, and the tears wouldn't stop. You had done your best not to show anyone your jealousy and anger, but now everyone knew how pathetic and insecure you really were.

You didn't hear the door open or close, you didn't know Elijah was in the room until his arms were around you, holding you tight against his chest. He didn't speak, and he didn't make you look at him. He simply held you and let you cry until you had no tears left.

Once your sobs had subsided he tilted your head up and kissed your cheeks, catching every stray tear with his lips. He wiped the rest away with his thumb, his dark eyes were filled with worry.

"What happened, love?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong."

You looked at him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He had no idea you had been feeling this way. No one did, but now it was too late. You took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"What is it that you see in me?" you blurted out, your face red.

Elijah frowned, looking completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, frustrated with his cluelessness. "I mean, look at me! I'm not exactly a supermodel."

Elijah chuckled and cupped your cheek, his hand was so warm and soft. "I'm looking," he said, his gaze raked over you and it made you blush.

"I don't understand," he continued, looking into your eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You huffed and tried to look away, but he held your chin. "I am serious. Why would you ever doubt my attraction to you?"

You bit your lip, still not sure if you should tell him the truth. "It's just...Hayley is so gorgeous, and tall and thin. Then Klaus just calls me your cherub, like I'm some stupid child."

Elijah's gaze softened and he shook his head. "Darling, Klaus was trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him get in your head."

"But he's right... Look at me, compared to her, and Klaus, and the rest of your family. I'm not even that attractive," you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Elijah frowned and took your hand, placing it on his chest. "Can you feel that?"

You nodded, your hand could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

"It's yours," he said softly.

He kissed you, and your heart fluttered, feeling lighter already. His hands slid down your back and gripped your ass, he pulled you closer and you gasped. His tongue slipped into your mouth and teased yours, tasting you.

His hand moved lower and he pulled your dress up, his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties, feeling the warmth and wetness.

"I will tell you this once," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You are perfect."

His hand dipped into your panties and stroked you, making you moan. "So wet, all for me."

You gasped and pressed your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me who this belongs to," he demanded.

"You, Elijah, it's yours," you whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

"Yes, that's right," he purred. "This sweet, little cunt is mine. Only mine."

He pushed you onto the bed and pulled your dress over your head. He groaned when he saw you wearing the matching set of black, lacy bra and panties.

He started kissing and marking his way down your body, starting at your neck and moving lower, biting and sucking as he went. You gasped and moaned as he reached your breasts. He undid the front clasp and licked a stripe up the middle, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and teasing the other with his fingers.

"These are so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, sucking until they were hard peaks. "So big and soft," he hummed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto. You whimpered and arched up against him, the feeling of his hot mouth was driving you insane.

You squealed and tugged on his hair a little harder when you felt him bite down. He chuckled and sucked hard, letting your breasts go with a loud pop. They were covered in rapidly healing hickeys, and he looked very pleased with himself.

He kissed down your stomach, admiring your soft belly. He cupped it, and squeezed your thighs, making you gasp.

"My perfect girl," he mumbled against your hips.

He hooked his thumbs into your panties and slid them down your legs, you sat up on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He slid them off and leaned down, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs.

"These perfect thighs, squeezing my head when you cum on my tongue," he said, his stubble scratched and tickled you. You let out a breathy giggle as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and thighs. He growled with satisfaction, biting the flesh and sucking marks into your soft skin.

"Elijah, stop teasing," you groaned, becoming impatient.

He chuckled and suddenly pulled you into his lap. He held you close and looked into your eyes.

"I love every bit of your body," he hummed, holding you firmly against him. "Every perfect curve, and every soft inch.”

He gave your tummy a small squeeze and kissed your pouting lips. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

You blushed and avoided his gaze. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up, his fingers traced your features, his gaze was filled with adoration.

"Those beautiful lips, those gorgeous eyes, these perfect cheeks, your soft, little nose," he cooed, kissing your face between each word.

You giggled and tried to hide your face in your hands, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"And this ass," he said as he kneaded the flesh, he lifted you up and smacked it, making you yelp. "It should be in the Louvre."

He kissed you again and slowly grinded against you, his hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing.

He scooted down the bed and laid back down, looking up at you with a wicked grin. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he pushed your ass forward, signaling he wanted you to sit on his face.

"Elijah, no, I-," you gasped, completely embarrassed. You felt so shy and nervous, not wanting him to look at you up close like that.

Elijah sat up and kissed you. "Do you think you will hurt me?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you breathed.

"Then what's the problem?" He asked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I don't know."

Elijah looked into your eyes, a kind smile on his lips. "If it kills me, you have discovered quite a loophole when it comes to killing an original," he said, gesturing to his face and grinning.

You giggled and pecked his lips. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself, it was hard to explain your nerves. You'd been intimate with Elijah before, more times than you could count, but you couldn't shake your insecurities.

Elijah sensed your hesitation, he kissed your neck softly and leaned up to whisper in your ear. "Please sit on my face, I want to eat your sweet pussy until you scream."

His filthy words made you shudder and you knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay," you whispered.

Elijah laid back down and gave your hips a gentle tug, pulling you into position.

Your entire body went hot when he spread your thighs apart. He kissed the insides, making you moan.

"There's a good girl," he hummed as his lips danced across your hot skin. He positioned you over his face and you could feel his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area.

He looked up at you and gave you an encouraging smile. "Sit,"

You bit your lip, but slowly lowered yourself down, inch by inch. He grabbed your ass and pulled you down fast, making you let out a squeak of surprise.

The heat pooled between your thighs as Elijah nosed at your center, teasing the soft skin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, rocking against him.

You felt a sudden sting as he nipped your thigh. "Stay still, let me do the work."

He licked a stripe up your core, groaning as he tasted you. He spread you open with his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against you, he licked long and slow. He buried his face deeper, lapping and sucking at your clit.

He licked and sucked and kissed, moaning against your soaked cunt. Your eyes rolled back, you tightened your grip on his hair and cried out. The noises he made were obscene, you could hear his mouth sucking at you, and it only made you wetter.

He looked up at you, his dark hair was a mess and his lips were covered in your slick.

"You taste divine, my love," he groaned. "So sweet, just for me."

He sucked hard on your clit, his hand reaching around and grabbing your ass roughly, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh. He growled and began fucking you with his tongue. His hands spreading you open and pressing his face as deep as possible. He buried himself in your pussy, licking, and sucking like it was his last meal. You came hard on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head tight as you fell apart.

He soothed your flushed skin with his tongue, sucking on your clit once more, making you twitch. You tugged on his hair, gently pulling him away, not able to take the overstimulation.

You moved back and sat on his chest, trying to catch your breath. Elijah caught your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He was covered in your wetness, and his chin was glistening. He grinned at you, completely satisfied with himself.

You snorted and leaned down, kissing him softly. You hummed, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Elijah rolled you onto your back and pinned your wrists above your head. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as you stared at him with a blissful, dazed expression.

"You are so perfect," he breathed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He kissed down the side of your face and nibbled on your ear, his free hand trailing down your body, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"Every inch of you," he whispered.

"Elijah," you sighed, blushing from the attention.

Elijah hummed and reached down to his pants, undoing his belt and pushing them down his legs. You reached up and helped him undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

You pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You could feel him pressed against you, his thick cock hot and heavy against your thigh.

"Look at what you do to me," he purred, kissing down your neck.

He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, rubbing the head against you. He slid inside easily, your body opening up for him.

He rocked his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you moan and grip his shoulders tight.

His eyes locked with yours as he fucked you slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin.

"You see how perfectly we fit?" He groaned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. "Look at us,"

You both looked down, watching as he thrusted in and out of you, his slick cock disappearing into your body.

"My love, my beautiful girl," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to understand, no one else will ever come close to comparing. You are everything to me."

He buried his face in your neck and kissed and nipped the soft skin. "This perfect body, your heart, your soul, I will never find anyone like you."

You whined and clawed at his back, you could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, you were overwhelmed and so grateful.

"I love you," you choked out, burying your face in his shoulder.

"And I love you," he breathed.

He held you close and fucked you until you were trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, clinging to him as you climaxed, shaking and crying his name.

He finished not long after, groaning and gasping as he spilled his release inside you, holding you tight.

You both laid there, panting and covered in sweat. You felt light and dizzy, your muscles felt like jelly and it took all your strength to not fall asleep right then and there.

"I want you to know, I mean every word I say to you," Elijah said quietly, kissing your temple.

"I know, Elijah," you hummed, smiling up at him. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Always."

"And Elijah?" You smiled and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think your ass is the one that should be in the Louvre."

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