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goldsbitch · 3 days ago

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Blink Once

Lando thought taking care of his twin daughters would be the hard part. Turns out, he can manage. Now, figuring out which one is which - that's a whole different story.

2k word count warning: none - domestic, fluff, fun

The room is in a state one could describe as a battlefield. Tiny clothes, diapers, creams, powders and God knows what scattered everywhere. There is also an intense stare down happening between the two pairs of blue eyes and one set of greenish. The latter belong to Lando, the former to his dearest offspring. The most adorable duo of little girls that he had ever seen. Every since they were born, he's been getting random streaks of immense pride throughout the day. That is until now, when he is staring at the two little grinning demons, holding a green sock in one hand a purple one in the other. Normally, he'd be overjoyed that he had managed to keep the two happy and not crying for so long. Y/N has gone out to much needed and postponed catch up with another adult, that's not Lando or anyone they're related to. It was his first time alone with the kids. He needed to prove it to her, and himself, that he can do it.

One of their daughters was expected, the other one was a happy surprise. To say taking care of two, instead of one, was a challenge for the new parents would be an understatement. Sleep deprived Lando was begging silently for his daughters to give him at least a clue to solving his latest fuck up. Identical twins. Y/N was so terrified of mixing them up, that the color designated socks and clothes were established right from the beginning. Olivia has green, Maya purple. Right?

He sighs dramatically, standing in the middle of the nursery and trying to recall which one had which pairs of socks on.

"Oh, how great of you that you can sit on your own now," he proclaims to the two, who keep beaming back at him, blabbering and apparently finding this very amusing. "If you could just magically learn how to talk now and tell me which one is which, that would be a-mazing!"

Nothing. Obviously. They have a long way to go to be able to do that. He tries to retrace his steps one more time. He put one on the changing dresser, that must have been the one with the green socks and went on to grab the other one to put her -on the left? Or was it right? He curses himself in creative swear words for taking the socks off so mindlessly.

It might be humiliating, but Lando is self-aware enough to have somewhat expected something like this to happen. He checks the shared note he and Y/N have. Ok - so it's right, Olivia is green and Maya purple. Great. Now which one is which?

He decides to sit them down in the living room - most likely mixing them once again, but what difference does that make now, he thinks.

He holds the two socks in front of their faces. This works with dogs, it must work with children too. He tries to brush over the fact he just compared his heirs to an animal.

"So, which one do you like better? Hm? You must have developed some sort of notion of which colour is yours at this point, right?" he speaks is sarcastic baby voice as the girls keep on laughing. Lando frowns. "This is not some sort of game, ladies. For all I know this might be the grounds for a divorce and your villain origin story." Nothing. No reaction to the socks, they just keep looking at him. Adorably.

He starts to properly panic now. Calls himself a shit parent, immature dad and just plain stupid idiot. Y/N is gonna kill him. He has to fix it somehow.

He tries different approach. "Olivia? Olivia, is it you? Blink twice if you’re Olivia. I’ll settle for a burp!" he speaks to the one on the left. It's like this child has stopped needing to blink completely. "So you're Maya?" he asks and figures the response of her hand reaching up must be enough to confirm her identity. He turns to the daughter on the right. "So, you're Olivia? Does that sound familiar?"

He is going to explain this to them one day, it's going to be a very funny story of how their father fucked up their whole life. Mixed them up so much that they end up becoming drug addicts. Oh, God. He is truly spiraling. Were they born with a destiny he’s now sabotaging by switching them? Or not switching them?

"Okay, Team Chaos. Maya, blink once. Or just scream, because that’s your go-to answer for everything anyway." He watches them intently and finally sees a blink! And immediately another one from the other child. He groans and puts his head in his hands. After a moment spent in a pit of despair, he comes back to reality with new found determination. He is a father, their father. His instincts must work. He picks one up and in the air and examines her intently. Turning her left, right and upside down. And then the second one. He's got nothing. These kids are point to point exact copies of each other.

As a typical young parent, he turns to internet for help. And as per usual, he finds zero reliable advice to go with. No - there is no secret birthmark on one of them. No, they both have identical eye color. No, there is no difference in their teeth. In amidst of all of this, he panic buys a fingerprint kit and full on plans on preventing this from happening in the future.

He comes back to stare at his kids, who are uncharacteriscally quiet, calm and content. As if they know that for the first time in weeks, he does not need their help to achieve chaos in his mind.

He calls the one person who is smart, won't probably laugh too much in his face, won't tell Y/N on him and might understand his parent panic.

Max Verstappen picks up after third dial.

"Lando!" he greets him cheerfully. At least someone is having a good time. "What's up? How's the new parent life looking out for you?"

Lando gets to the point straight. He is after all running out of time. "I've mixed up the twins. Don't laugh. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, you’ve ‘mixed up’ the twins?" the Dutchman asks.

Lando rolls his eyes, how does one not understand the simple premise. "I mean, I was changing their diapers, I took their socks off, and now I don’t know which one is Olivia and which one is Maya. I’ve stared at them for an hour, and they’re just...Point to point the same."

Max bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, a loud, unfiltered laugh that makes Lando cringe. He waits for the inevitable to end and lets him speaks first.

"So I assume you're alone with them? Is Y/N out of the house?" Why is that important, Lando does not understand.

"Yes. I’m serious, Max! They’re identical. Identical! It’s like trying to tell apart two...marshmallows. Two tiny, giggling, adorable and judgmental marshmallows who know I’m losing it and find it hilarious."

It seems that Max is finally somewhat on board with the seriousness of it all. "Right. So what’s the plan? Are you just gonna call them ‘Baby One’ and ‘Baby Two’ until Y/N gets home?"

Lando pinches the top of his nose in frustration. "Max, I need to solve this. If I don’t figure this out, Y/N will kill me. She was already paranoid about this happening, and now I’ve gone and done it. I mean, what if I ruin their entire lives, Max? What if they grow up thinking they’re each other-"

Max is solution oriented. So he jumps into interrupting the young father, because he might have just got on forever.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s think this through. Did you check for a birthmark? Sometimes one of them will have a birthmark or something small that’s different."

Lando groans loudly. "No birthmark, no physical difference, Max, my kids look identical and I can't recognize them apart at all!"

"Hm," he stops to think, Lando stops to think and hopefully the whole world stops for a moment so he can fix his cardinal mistake. "What about… I don’t know, their personalities? Isn’t one supposed to be louder than the other?"

Lando appreciates the idea, first good one. Sadly, not a helpful one. He keeps staring at menace his children are. "They’re both loud. And they both cry at the exact same time, like they’ve rehearsed it. I think they’re doing this on purpose to mess with me."

"At least you can be sure you're the father," Max rhetors and laughs again.

"Not funny," Lando gritts his teeth.

"Well, I’d mess with you too if you were my dad."

"MAX."

"Okay, fine, fine. Why don’t you just pick one, call her Olivia, and call the other one Maya, and just stick with it? What’s the worst that could happen?" he tries to calm Lando, but it backfires masivelly.

Lando is now pissed at Max as well. The guy has kids far apart in age to obviously not understand the gravity of the situation. And he's more that willing to make him understand. "The worst? The worst! I’ll tell you the worst. What if they figure it out when they’re older and I’ve been calling Olivia ‘Maya’ for years? What if Maya’s like, ‘Wow, Dad, you didn’t even know who I was?’ And Olivia’s like, ‘I always knew I was the favorite.’ And then they hate me forever and end up in therapy, and the therapist is like, ‘Your father was a moron who couldn’t even tell you apart."

"That… sounds like a lot of "future you" problems."

Lando start to pray silently to all the gods he's aware of. "Future seems pretty damn close, given Y/N probably comes home any minute now."

And that's when he hears the door open. Fuck.

"Just wait when they're teenagers and start switching on purpose," is the last he hears from Max before hanging up indefinitely. Lando freezes, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His eyes dart between the door and the two grinning culprits, who have now decided to crawl toward each other and share in their apparent victory. He whispers under his breath, “Traitors. Both of you.”

He gets up automatically, the plan now being wooving Y/N, the mother of his devil children, out by his adorableness. It worked when he was trying to get to agree to go on a first date with him, it has to work now. He wonders into the kitchen, where he sees her putting some box of pastries onto the counter.

"Hello, my love," he attacks and immediately steps all over to her personal space. Hand on her cheek, the other one on her hips and he locks them in a kiss. He's not fully certain it works, but it earns him a pleased smile. Baby steps - no pun intended. "So, what did you do?" He know already, coffee date with a bestie, bla bla bla, but he needs to buy himself some time. She tells him anyway and he is pleased to her happy, for the last time in their lives probably. Oh, what a nice journey this has been. He gets lost in the love-filled thoughts that he temporarily forgets about his predicament.

She kisses him gently one more time and flashes a look into the living room. "Look at them, so happy." Fuck, that was quick. It was foolish of him to rely on the fact Y/N might just forget about their kids. "How’s everything going? Did the girls behave?"

Behave. Right. The girls behaved perfectly. It was him who had descended into chaos.

"Yeah! All good on that front. We're a great team!" he responds, maybe too enthusiastically. He is certain this was the last time she's left him alone with the them, until they're able to identify themselves on their own. It was fun while it lasted. The pit of despair in his stomach is growing.

"It makes me so happy to see you all having fun," she says and it's the kind of relaxed smile he hasn't seen on her face for weeks now.

"Honey, do you wanna take a nap or some alone time in the bedroom?," he asks sincerely, casually tangling their hands together. "Looks like some time off suits you." This is not said as a part of his salvage plan. It is actually really nice to see her rested for once. She looks at him sheepishly.

"You're amazing, you know that?" she whispers, several positive emotions written all over her face.

"Keep focused on that," he says before he can stop himself. Fuck once again. He freezes. She winces, her spidey senses on. He glance is averted to the children now.

"Lando, did something happen?" she asks, suddenly worried.

This time Lando looks over at the girls, who are still preocuppied by themselves. "No, all good. Look at them, all content." And mixed up, he thinks, but does not add that.

Y/N does not look conviced and goes over to check up on them herself. He does not stop her. It was bound to happen anyway.

He's an adult. Knows well enough from his high demanding job that fessing up to a mistake is ultimately better than have someone find out. Deep breath in. Here goes everything.

"I don't know which one is which," he says and lets the reality of it sink in. Y/N looks at him with eyes wide out. He continues. "I was changing their diapers, took the socks of and then forgot which one is which. I'm sorry."

She stares at him, then at the girls and right back at him. To add some gravitas to it all, the kids are now playing with both socks. Lando is pretty sure the blood stopped flowing in his veins. He tries to calculate how long it's going to take him to pack his stuff up. Y/N kneels down to level with the girls and smiles at them. Lando's fighting the urge to take a photo, so that he can remember what having a family felt like. Then she picks up the child sitting on her left.

"Hi, Olivia," he mumbles and puts the sock on accordingly. Lando does not compherend. "Hello, Maya," she continues and repeats her action. Has his wife just decided which one is which and moved on? He could have done that minutes ago! He stays silent as he takes careful steps toward his family. Y/N stands up as well and looks at her disheweled husband.

"Olivia's got little tiny dimples," she says simply to provide some explanation.

"What?" is the only response Lando is capable of giving her. She waits with a sneaky smile as he comes over to them and examines the girls one more time. After a moment, he speaks again. "You're lying."

She laughs and dismisses that. "No, I'm not, look." Lando still can't see a damn difference, but decides on believing Y/N. "How do you-"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I guess it's mom instincts." Lando is stunned at how casual she is about this all. Just like that, she goes back to unloading her back to the kitchen. Lando's heartbeat slowly goes down to the normal a human is suppose to have and turn to watch Y/N. When he's sure that she in fact not being sarcastic, does not seem to be mad at him and confirms that he might just have survived this all and gets to keep access to his family, he walks over her to cherish her once again.

"I'm so sorry, I was really trying to avoid doing that," he apologizes, still not quite done being guilty. "I know you were afraid of this."

She turns to him with a smile. "It was bound to happen eventually. I was really worried about that when we came back from the hospital," she glances at the little girls lovingly. "I'm with them so much that I guess I started to see the tiny, miniscule differences. Don't feel bad not doing so," she walks over to him to be the one doing the comforting.

"If you want me to keep them straight, we’re gonna have to tattoo their names on their foreheads. I’m kidding. Kind of."

She chuckles. "Yeah, do that and you are dead."

He shakes his head. "Always dismissing my genius ideas."

"And always will be, honey," she leans over and kisses him. Just like that, the perfect moment is over. Sounds of crying creeping in from the living room. Y/N sighs into their kiss.

Lando looks at his two identical, mischievous daughters, he can’t help but smile. He may not have a clue what he’s doing, but one thing’s for sure. Life with these two is going to be anything but boring.

"Go lie down, honey. I got this," he notes and this time Y/N nods back at him.

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sturniolosblanket · 2 days ago

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texts w/ brothers bsf!matt + drabble

pt. 6

your blood was boiling. your weren’t exactly expecting to be greeted with matt making out with someone else the moment you walk into the party. it was like something in you snapped. you felt used, betrayed, pissed. you knew you and matt could never become something, but your feelings for him were so strong that it swallowed the fact that he’s your brothers best friend. it took you a long time to realize your feelings for matt, but when you came to the realization that you might be in love with him. it scared you more than the man himself.

you searched for matt’s car and himself in the huge line of cars covering the sidewalk. you finally end up spotting matt leaning against the passenger side door looking directly at you.

“what do you want?” you ask rolling your eyes trying to avoid eye contact.

“please don’t give me attitude baby.” he said frowning and tilting his head

“are you gonna cry about it??” you take a step back from him

“no,” he paused “maybe.” he said smiling at you

“are you gonna keep joking around or talk?” you said crossing your arms

“y/n, im so sorry you had to see me with that girl, i promise i don’t want her, she threw herself at me and i stupidly didn’t stop her.” Matt said taking a step toward you.

“good for you?”

“y/n it feels so wrong touching other girls, your literally the only person i want to touch”

“okay.” you responded flatly shrugging

“your a pain in the ass you know that?” he said shaking his head

“your not exactly the delight either, matt.” the silence after you said that was thick. both of you clearly frustrated, but your mind goes back to your messages.

“how do you feel?” you asked straight up

“what?”

“you said i can’t see how you obviously feel. so, how do you feel?” you repeat your question

matt sighs shaking his head moving back to lean against his car. “your my best friends little sister.” he spoke

“so i noticed.”

“Nathan would kill me if he knew I was fucking you, and yet I don’t stop. Why?”

“because your a horny fuck?” you replied chuckling to yourself

“Everyday for the past 4 months I risk losing my best friend to see his little sister.”

“matt stop fucking narrating your daily actions just answer the fucking question god damn.”

“I am obviously in love with you, y/n” he said looking dead in your eyes.

your stomach completely flipped. shocked, happy, excited, nervous. various emotions flowing through your body, searching for a response, but when you couldn’t find words. you and matt stare at each other in silence both still soaking up the words and meaning of his confession. you feel so relieved, relieved he feels the same, relieved you don’t have to hide your feelings from him or yourself anymore.

when you don’t respond to him right away he goes into a state of panic, thinking he needed to explain himself further, and words just start spilling out.

“princess, when i slept with someone else, it was to try and stop my feelings for you because the truth is, i’ve never ever felt this way for anyone else before, ever, and it’s scary as fuck. your the only person i think about, look for, want to talk to, and im just so scared of getting hurt that i hurt you in the process, and im so sorry for that. ill literally do anything or block anyone to gain your trust back.”

your face turns red at his confessions, and you feel your cheeks turning a shade of pink. you feel a rush of happiness flow through you as you jump up into his arms, and all matt can do is sigh in relief and hug you back. you hug him as tightly as you can. you never knew a hug could be so emotion filled, but somehow, it confesses a lot more than your words could.

“i love you too, matt” you said into his chest. “but, nate..” you said looking up at him.

“i know, princess” he said looking down at you “we can always just be together, and just not tell him.” matt said smirking

“that feels so wrong” you said putting your forehead against his chest

“i know, but not being around you feels worse.” matt said, his fingers snaking up into your hair

“can’t we just keep sneaking around and having sex, but not put a label on it?”

“of course we can, but would we eventually end up being together?” he asked

“yes.” you said stepping onto your tippy toes to give him a quick peck, “ of course.” you smiled up at him, “once you prove yourself trustworthy again.”

“yes ma’am.” matt said, his other hand snaking around your waist to pulling you into another kiss.

“i know it’s going to take a lot for you to trust me again, but i promise i’ll make it up to you.” he said after pulling away, looking into your eyes. you can tell he’s being genuine, that he’s not lying. so all you can do is smile at him and pull him into another kiss.

“i told you.” you said pulling away and looking at him with a big smile on your face

“told me what?” he said furrowing his eyebrows

“you went soft on me.” you said grin widening. a smile slowly forms on his face, he shakes his head slightly in disbelief as he presses his lips to yours.

a/n: SURPRISE!! i finished my work and felt a little devious. also yall, this ain’t the end, i want them to get caught by nate at some point so stay tuned reinassss!! comment ‘❄️’ to be added to taglist!🩵

taglist: @matteatmeout @littlefreak-liz @mattsplaything @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @isasflorals @harls-sturn @h3arts4harry @rcklessheavn @chrissysturnzz @rafesapprentice @mattysketchup @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @emely9274 @trvqvoiisee @heartsforsturniolo567 @rafecameronsbitch @annsx03 @slutmattout @trevorsturniolo @h3arts4nat @beersangel @sturniolosluttt @sturnzpro @slutmattout @rainebow333 @bigcoke69420 @nmegamett20 @ivysturnss @quirklessliap @rain-likes-purple @shadowthesim @julisturn @chrissturniolossidebitch @slut4chris888 @edwardscoldhands @freshsturniolo346 @nervoussagittarius @sturniolosfr3shl0v3 @ilovechrissturniolooooo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @secret-sturniolo @viktorssugardaddy @ikyoudreamofme @not-sinai @alyssa-sturn @ribread03 @bellassturniolo @bambisribbon @mrs-riddlexo

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo angst #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #reader x character

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luvergirl-866 · 3 days ago

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dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wcbb #wbb #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut #pazzi smut #lilah’s works #that’s so true pt 2

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tbaluver · 1 day ago

Note

Hello 👋 love your work so much ❤️. Anyway can I request a scenario where the MC and l&ds boy were adult film actors or porn-stars if you prefer, like what each boy is like on and off camera.

P☆RN STA-A-A-A-AR- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: Xavier x fem!Reader, Zayne x x fem!Reader, Rafayel x fem!Reader, Sylus x fem!Reader, Caleb x fem!Reader context: what it's like filming with your lover and behind the cameras genre: MDNI, smut smut, flitthyy but with aftercare a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you for supporting my works! srry i took a while writing this req i was going and forth with this during school as well so i hope i did this justice! if not ignore this for now ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i also added what they're like when they're filming by themselves i hope thats okay! and i hope you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: male masturbation, backshots, p in v

Solo Video:

Xavier is a well known porn star who prefers to keep his face and identity hidden to keep a low profile in public. With one hand subtly lifting the camera to focus on the bare lower half of his body, just enough to see the full view of his thighs twitch and tremble while the other hand strokes his length slowly, occasionally moving further down to cup his balls.

His viewers tuning in to his new video often see him lying comfortably on his bed, his sculpted body glowing under the light of his camera. His pretty pink tip glistened, making his viewers wonder how long he was going for when he made the video. Envy sparks among them as they wish they could be his bunny plushies resting beside him, wishing they could trade places. He knew what he was doing placing them there.

Soft whimpers escape his mouth as he pumps faster and faster, his chest rising and falling. You can tell he was so close from how his breathing stutters through the camera. Oh how badly the viewers wished they would get a glimpse of his flushed face. They would pay so much more if he’d let them.

Breathless, quiet pants of your name slip from his lips as he struggles to keep his voice down. He could feel his climax coming near, his orgasms building deep inside him and finally releasing his warm cum in thick spurts all over his defined abs.

The video cuts off there making viewers want more. The rest of his channel is filled with teasing mirror pics showcasing his defined physique while wearing his signature grey sweats. His fat cock makes an outline through the thin material while his large hands wrapped around his phone to carefully cover his face.

And his most popular videos? They’re the ones featuring you, his personal favorites.

On Camera With You:

The top of your dress was unbuttoned and tugged down to expose your breast. Your breast pressed against the window, exposed to, well, the backyard of your shared home with Xavier. He would never risk letting anyone catch even a glimpse of your bare body, hence why a lot of the videos that include you are covered or blurred out. The bottom of your dress was slightly pushed up, just enough to have Xavier sink his fat cock inside but also to slightly cover the curve of your ass.

He buries his head into your neck, your moans fogging up the window. “Mine..” He whispers in your ear, the sound of his hips slamming in and out of you relentlessly against you drowned it out. He drills into you harder, deeper, his mind focused on how wet your cunt feels around his dick.

His cock was hitting you so deeply that you felt like he was splitting you in two. “X-Xavier..!” You moan out, his hands travelling between your thighs to rub the bundle of nerves between your legs to give you that sudden stimulation. His hands caress the soft skin of your ass while he peppers sweet kisses down your neck as you both chase your high.

His hands make their way to pinch your perked nipples roughly as you press harder against the window which would leave a foggy mark later. You're almost there, from the way you’re clenching around him and the way he feels your thighs shake around his hand. All the pure sensation he was giving you was turning your brain into mush, your moans turning into incoherent babbles.

He angles his hips so you can feel his veiny fat cock hit right against the spongy sweet spot inside of you while continuing his animalistic pace. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach tighten again, waves of pleasure rushing through your body as you cum on his cock. With one final hard thrust, his cum seeps into you, filling you up to the brim. He rides out his orgasm, his hips stuttering.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck as you both catch your breath, his hands still resting on your hips. “You think you could do that again for me honey?” His warm breath brushes over your skin. You realized it a little too late but you’ve forgotten saying his name on camera would reveal his identity to the public.

“Mhm..” You hum weakly, your chest rising and falling as you tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Xavier. Honestly, he could’ve easily edited that part out, but he’d rather film with you over and over again. For now this little video will be for you and him to keep.

Behind The Scenes With You:

“Did you feel good? Do you want more?” He asks, making sure you were one hundred percent satisfied and content. He isn’t asking for the video but rather if you still want to go on just for your pleasure. He doesn’t mind at all, he’s more than happy to keep going for as long as you want him too.

And once you were completely satisfied with your needs, he’d carry you to the bathroom, peppering you with so many sweet kisses. He sits you down on the bathroom counter as you both wait for the bathtub to fill and get to the perfect temperature. He dampens a rug to help clean you up, while admiring every inch of your body while pressing soft reassuring kisses to any surface he can reach.

“Does this feel sore?” He asks softly, massaging your thigh after witnessing you tremble from today’s filming. And if it did, he’s quick to massage any sore spots while making sure there were any markings on your skin that needs tending too.

When the bathtub is finally filled to the perfect temperature, he carefully lifts you, stepping into the warm water together. He gently helps you wash and dry off. Afterwards, he slips you into one of his shirts that were way too oversized on you but perfectly comfortable.

He helps you settle onto the bed, adjusting your pillows just right before sinking into the bed right beside you. Thankfully, today’s video didn’t require the bed or you’d both be stuck on the couch waiting for fresh new sheets. He seriously thinks you should get more from how often you two make videos, but you both often forget.

With a soft chuckle at the thought, he grabs the blanket, tucking it around you both. His arms slip around you, pulling you closer as you two drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Zayne:

tags: male masturbation, p in v, reader riding zayne

Solo Video:

Most of Zayne’s solo videos feature him sitting in his office chair alone in his dimly lit room. His camera is usually propped up and behind it would be his computer playing a video you filmed touching yourself a while ago. When he’s by himself, he doesn’t remove every piece of clothing but when it's with you, it’s different. He often leaves his button up shirt unbuttoned, just enough to to reveal his defined muscles. His sleeves rolled up to show the scars on his arms, making viewers wonder if they were from you.

Even as a porn star, Zayne remains reserved, often cropping his face out just slightly in his videos, giving viewers a glimpse of his jawline to imagine his lips parting and his eyes shut from the absolute pleasure he was giving himself.

But to him, it would’ve been better if you were here.

Soft quiet groans slip past Zayne’s lips through the camera as his hand drags along his shaft faster now. He squeezes his fist even tighter, pumping faster into his sensitive hot pink tip as his cum spills out with uneven pants. His chest rising and falling, sweat coating his skin that made him glisten. The video ends like that with no outro, leaving viewers to look at the blank screen as they try to finish imagining sinking into his throbbing cock.

They can imagine all they want but the only way to know for sure is by clicking on the next few videos of you two together.

On Camera With You:

“You can do it, I know you can. I’m here.” He murmurs, his lips barely brushing by your ear. Both of his large hands rest on your waist, gently making soothing circles on your soft skin as you slowly sink into him inch by inch.

He was always so gentle and patient with his touches just as he is behind the cameras. Unlike the men you would see in stereotypical videos who rush into things quickly and end up finishing first.

A strangled whine travels up your throat once you finally let yourself down fully onto his cock. There's no doubt that he’s big. He’s so big that it makes you whimper every time he’s in you, splitting you open each time, making viewers completely jealous.

You both agreed it’s best to keep your faces hidden, unless of course you choose otherwise. Oftentimes, after filming you both make sure to blur your faces or crop them out the video. It’s truly a shame they’ll never have the view you have. His cheeks and ears are completely flushed, his lips swollen from all the kisses and biting, and that small pussy drunk smile he still has on whenever he watches you ride him.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his large hands smoothing over your back. You nod against his shoulder, resting your forehead there for a moment. “Take your time,” He murmurs quietly, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your head. You always manage, every single time. However if you did want to stop, he would with no hesitation. Your hips shift in little experimental ruts, grinding slowly.

Once you angle your hips just right, you pull your face away from his shoulder, sitting up slightly. You whimper loudly, bouncing up and down on him faster. He knows you want to moan out his name but for the sake of the video and his identity you can’t. But he doesn’t mind starting all over again if it means he’ll see you like this again.

He never gets tired of the sight he had in front of him. If this was an addiction then don’t bother him finding a cure. Your body was glistening with sweat as you moved up and down on his length. And the way your face contorts from the pleasure you were getting was beautiful to him.

His hips stutter up involuntarily, instinctively, begging you to give him more. An intense amount of pleasure begins to flood you from the slick drag of his cock inside you, opening you completely and letting him get deeper inside of you. Your panting and whining drown out from the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin in the room.

Your movements started to get sloppy as you desperately chased your high and with one final drop you completely buried yourself in him, your orgasm washing through you. Zayne’s hands tighten on your hips as he follows suit, cumming with a low groan. You could feel his cock pulse, stuffing your cunt full.

You melt on top of him, your chest rising and falling in sync with his as he rubs soothing circles on your back. You tilt your head slightly as he pulls you closer, his lips reaching for yours. “Thank you,” He murmurs against your lips. His body relaxes against yours as he rests his chin gently on top of your head.

Behind The Scenes With You:

The steady rhythm of Zayne’s slow breathing pulls you back to reality but his gentle caress trailing up and down your back almost lulls you to sleep on top of him. “I’m going to grab a few things to clean us up, love. I promise I’ll be quick okay?” He whispers softly. You nod slowly against his chest, too relaxed to say anything more. Gently, he lays you down beside him, propping the pillows behind you to make you more comfortable.

You watch his broad figure walk towards the door, a small smile tugging at your lips as you catch a glimpse of the marks you made from your film today. You let your eyes flutter closed for a couple minutes. However, it doesn’t last long when you hear the soft padding of his feet return and feel the subtle shift in the bed.

He comes back with a glass of cold water and a damp rag. “Come closer, you should drink,” He murmurs, slipping an arm under your back, lifting you slightly to help you sit up. You lean into him, sipping the cold water as he carefully brings the glass to your mouth. “Done?�� He asks as he watches you pull away from the glass, your body sinking back into the softness of the bed. “Spread your legs a little, my love. I need to clean you up.” He sets the glass down beside the bed, brushing the damp rag over your inner thigh.

“Not too sore anywhere? How about here?” He asks, carefully massaging any tender spots, making sure he didn’t overdo it during filming. He watches your reactions closely, relief washing over him when you shake your head, offering a small smile.

“‘m okay Zayne, I promise.” His eyes soften, a tender smile curving on his lips too as he rubs your inner thigh in slow reassuring circles.

“Let’s take a quick bath, and then we can rest, okay?” He says softly. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as he effortlessly lifts you, cradling you against him as he carries you to the bathroom.

The water was already running. He’s prepared everything so quickly, just like he promised. As he helps you settle in the bathtub with him, you catch a glimpse of a neatly folded set of clothes on the counter after your bath.

Once you both finish washing off, he gently helps you dry off before turning his attention to himself. He grabs your favorite oversized shirts on the counter, the ones that always smell like him, pulling it over you.

After you’re both settled in comfortable clothes, he lifts you effortlessly, earning a small giggle from you. The walk back to the bedroom was short, just a few steps really, but he can’t help but love taking care of you.

He carefully sets you down on your side of the bed before climbing in beside you. He tucks the blankets around both of you, his arms pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your head before nuzzling closer to you.

Rafayel:

tags: male masturbation, backshots, p in v

Solo Video:

Rafayel is absolutely shameless whether he films with you or by himself.

He smirks when he sees more viewers coming in to join his stream. Sweat drips down his chest as his biceps flex as he bumps faster. “hah-i bet you like this don'tcha? filthy girl.” Viewers flooded into his stream with compliments while some typed how they wished it was them instead of his hands. “Yeah? Am I making you feel good? You wish you were on this cock huh?” They typed promises in the chat how they would make him feel so good but Rafayel doubts that. He doesn’t need to even think about if they’d make him feel good because with you, he already has everything he needs.

He knows you’re watching so he must perform a good show for you while you’re away.

His head falls back slightly while his eyes remain half-lidded to watch the numbers go up. He lowers his gaze, watching his hand stroke up and down his cock, concentrating on his sensitive tip. His sweet moans echo through the livestream when he cums hard again. A few whines slip out of his slips as he watches his hot cum overflowing to his balls and onto his hand.

He pants, a smirk playing at his lips as he glances back at the stream. He reads the chat, viewers begging for one more round while he cleans himself up.

“Thanks for the tips everyone. Catch me and my cutie new video next week.”

And just like that, the livestream ends.

On Camera With You:

“fuuuuck you feel s-so ah! good cutie,” Rafayel lets out a loud pornagraphic moan, his grip on the camera unsteady as he struggles to focus his view but also to get the perfect shot of your ass bouncing off his dick.

Ah, this position is one of his many favorites. He has your ass up in the air while one of his hands grip your hips tightly that will probably leave a bruising mark on it the morning after. Your back curves with your face against the plush of the pillows, it was a breathtaking sight and no one can ever take it from him. The viewers can look and touch themselves all they want but they can never have you.

Rafayel looks down to where you’re both connected, stretching you wider than ever before. The sight is mesmerizing and he can’t stop his moans from slipping out.

His hips slap against yours while his hands roam around the soft surface of your back and your ass, occasionally giving it a tight squeeze. “mmmngh Raf-!” Your moans muffle through the pillow as pulsating pleasures send signals down to your core.

“Did you hah- like that pretty girl? Do mm- you want more? I’ll give you more,” The loud smack of his pelvis hitting your ass fills the room and each stroke he was pulling you down deeper onto his cock. He can’t take off his eyes on your pretty pussy and how it just swallows him up so perfectly.

“feels ‘s good ‘s good-!” you slur your words which means he knows he’s doing it right. your muffled whines and moans and the wet sounds of your cunt were spurring him on. His heavy balls stains with your arousal as they slap against your puffy clit. Hearing you feel this good because of him, the way your pussy feels wrapped around his dick, it was too perfect.

One of his free hands trails down to rub your sensitive clit while he pounds into you harder. He lets out a small whimper when he feels your cunt start to tighten around him and the way you’re quivering means you’re close. “Look so pretty takin it, take it all for me yeah?”

The orgasm rips through you, soaking his cock. His hips stutter momentarily, thick white ropes of his cum paint your walls. He nearly sinks on top of you but instead he rolls onto his back, pulling you right beside him to see your pretty face.

He smiles warmly at you, brushing the hair away from your face as he turns off the camera, not caring whether he captured anything good at all. All he knows right now is that you’re perfect. Everything you do is perfect.

Behind The Scenes With You:

You two lie side by side, his nebula eyes staring right at yours, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His hands moved gently over your back as your limbs were tangled together. “How do you feel?” He whispers, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Good,” you reply, smiling back at him.

“Likeee realllyy good or just good?” He teases, both of you laughing. He grins, brushing his hand over your cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” You nod as you watch him rise, his touch still lingering on your skin before he leaves.

You watch him leave, a small smirk curling on your lips as you watch his bare ass walk on full display before he disappears completely.

When he returns, he extends his hand to you, helping you drape yourself around him as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. The bathroom smells like your favorite soap while bubbles are gently rising to the surface of the water. He carefully guides your tired body into the tub, letting you sink into relaxation. “I’ll be right backkk cutie, just stay right there!” He boops your nose with the soapy bubbles, flashing you a wink before quickling walking away.

It takes him a few moments to return and when he does, he joins in right behind you. You relax, leaning your back against his chest. His hands help gently wash your sticky body with soap and water before washing his own. “Is this good?” He whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear, earning a hum of approval from you.

After helping you finish drying off and getting dressed, he lifts you gently, carrying you back to the room where the sheets and blankets have been replaced by him, so you can rest in a freshly made bed.

He sinks into the bed with you, not letting you have a single moment to pass without wrapping his arms around you, earning a soft giggle from you from his clinginess. He tucks the covers around you both, his forehead gently resting against yours as you both begin to drift into a sleep. The perfect footage for the channel slips from his mind, he’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Sylus:

tags: male masturbation, size difference, p in v

Solo Video:

Sylus is often mischaracterized even in the industry. He doesn’t talk much in his own videos, leaving a lot of people to fantasize what he’s like in bed. Is he rough? Does he mind vanilla? What would he say to you?

Well that’s only for you to know and hear.

His solo videos are often him sitting up in his dimly lit room, his legs spread enough to give the viewers a glimpse of his bulging veins on his inner thigh. He keeps eye contact on the camera while his large hand drags along his length. He found this, well, boring, without you. All he could think about was the money he’d make from this and the pretty outfits you’d been eyeing at the mall that he’d surprise you with. It’s a shame really, knowing that it would be easily ripped apart by him.

He imagines pleasing you, his tongue tasting your folds while you whine and babble about the clothes he got you, completely shredded. Those pretty little sounds were cute to him.

He imagines rolling his hips against you while your nails claw at his back as you hold on tightly to him. Sylus curses under his breath as he increases his pace on his hand. His eyes fluttering shut, his jaw clenching. His fist pumps into his sensitive tip, helping him closer to his orgasm. A deep groan falls from his lips, his hot cum overflowing in his hands.

The video ends there, offering viewers recommendations of his popular videos. The ones featuring you and him everywhere. And he wouldn’t want it any other way, showing off his beloved and how good you make him feel.

On Camera With You:

“S-Sylus..” you whimper, nails digging into his skin when he pulls out and slides back in slowly. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him. He’s just so much bigger, bigger than what the viewers see on the screen. A groan rumbles in his broad muscular chest as his grip on your hips tightens.

Inch by inch, he stretches you wider, stuffing you full of his cock. “Are you alright?” He whispers softly, not an ounce of teasing dripping in his tone as he checks to make sure if you’re okay. It was quiet enough that the camera can’t pick it up, intended only for you to hear.

You hum in approval, “K-keep going, please Sy more” your hips wiggling to signal him to keep going. He begins thrusting in and out of you, each stroke deep, brushing against your walls that felt so so good. Your viewers loved this. They loved watching his monster sized cock disappear into your pretty cunt. His size difference compared to your small frame turned people on while maintaining to be gentle and careful, quite different from the usual videos you would see in the industry.

“You’re doing so well, sound so pretty” he praises while he shallowly thrusts in you, the sounds in the room were so lewd from the squelching of your wetness. Each drag of his cock makes you feel every ridge and vein as he pulls in and out, earning soft mewls from you. “I’m gonna go faster now okay baby?” he murmurs waiting for your response.

With a breathless yes please sy, is all he needed to hear before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust making you cry and babble incoherent words as he pistons in and out of you. Not even the tight grip you held onto him made you feel secure. He’s hitting depths that were only possible for him to find, each thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body making you chant his name brokenly.

“Just like that,” he coos, pressing wet sloppy kisses down your neck. It’s too much. It’s too good. Your loud choked sobs captured by the camera as his tip mercilessly drills into that sweet spongy spot over and over again. “That’s it..C’mon sweetie give it to me”

Your walls clench around his length, waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Sylus fucks you through your high. With a few final thrusts, he sinks his cock as deep as he can, his hips stutter momentarily, trying to milk every bit of his seed into you.

His body melting against you, both of you sticky and exhausted. Both of you breath heavily, the room filled with the sound of your uneven breaths. Once the high clears from his mind, he lifts his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before softly pulling out. He doesn’t ignore your whine from the emptiness, gently soothing you with sweet praises and showering your face with tender kisses.

With one last kiss, he whispers, ‘I’ll be right back’ before turning off the camera to save you both some time to edit. Whether or not that final, intimate moment stays on film is your choice but the care he shows you behind the scenes remains unseen, something just for the two of you.

Behind The Scenes With You:

“I’ll be right back okay sweetie? Do you need anything?” He sits beside you on the bed, his large hand gently squeezing your thigh. You shake your head, offering a small and weak smile before he stands up and disappears from your sight.

A few minutes pass and he returns a few things in hand. He helps you sit up slowly as you take a few needed gulps while he gently cleans you up with the damp rag, massaging any area with some oils that he thinks is sore from the past scenes you’ve recorded for today.

You lay back down, letting out a deep exhale as exhaustion floods your body. Your eyes were growing heavy, nearly fluttering shut but Sylus stops you. “No yet sweetie,” he says softly. “I’ve got a bath running, and then you can rest okay?” He hovers above you, showering you with kisses just enough to keep you awake. With a weak ‘okay’, you give in. He carefully slides his arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you effortlessly to the bathroom. He checks the water temperature, adjusting it to your preference and once he’s satisfied, he carefully lowers you both into the warm, soothing water.

After the bath, he lifts you gently, carrying you to the counter by the sink to keep you from standing. He carefully dries your hair before grabbing one of his oversized shirts, the one you love so much, slipping it over your head. Once you're settled, he takes a quick moment to dry off, grabbing his robe before turning his attention back to you. He carries you to one of his many rooms, as the one you two filmed today needs to be cleaned.

“Would you like anything else?” He asks softly, helping you lay down on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. You shake your head, pulling at the fabric of his robe to come join you. A low chuckle escapes him as he joins you, sitting up beside you and letting you snuggle closer to him. You rest your hands against his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he tucks you in. Editing the video can wait, right now it’s just the two of you.

Caleb:

a/n: his is shorter bc im still trying to figure out his personality but i wanted to include him ! tags: reader jorking caleb off

On Camera With You:

The camera was propped up by your kitchen table, near the windows so the natural lighting can capture his defined abs. You stood behind his seat, your fingers teasing his abs, tracing the lines as you go lower and lower. This was how many retakes by now? You stopped counting after the fifth one, losing track of how much he came too fast. The clips were too short but they were handy if you wanted to keep them to yourself, which you will.

“p-please, i need you,” Caleb whines once your finger lines over his waistband. His cock happily awaiting your touch beneath his boxers, again. “make me feel good, only you can. i’ll do good this time, p-promise.”” he’s already a whimpering mess and you haven’t even started yet.

He helps you tug down his sweats along with his boxers, his heavy cock springing upwards to slap his torso from its release. His cock was so hard he thinks he might explode and you can tell his frustration from the tip of his cock, all hot pink and swollen just for you.He was already leaking again and you hardly touched him there.

You carefully wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking his cock up and down. His head falls back, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips rock slightly up into your hand, meeting your strokes. He’s trying so hard not to finish early again but how can he not when just your hand already feels so good.

You pump him faster, leaning over with your other hand to squeeze his balls, your nails softly grazing onto the sensitive flesh. He lets out a loud whine when you twist your wrist around his glistening tip. “‘m gonna cum, fuck ii’m so ah! s-sorry!” He whimpers loudly, spilling all over your hand with a pathetic whine. “I’m sorry..one more time..” He looks up at you with pleading eyes and who are you to say no? At least this time it was at least ten seconds longer than the last one

Behind The Scenes With You:

No matter who was more exhausted after filming, he always insisted on cooking you a delicious meal, despite any protests you might have. Sure he could easily order take out and have it delivered but he personally found it better to have a home cooked meal for a girl he absolutely loves who treats him so well.

But first, he’d make sure you were both freshened up, helping you slip into his favorite shirt, one that was oversized on you. Dressed in nothing but his grey sweats, he’d start up the stove, chopping vegetables to make the flavor pop. If you didn’t listen and rest in bed as he asked, he’d scoop you up effortlessly, ignoring your complaints as he carried you back to your shared room.

When the meal was ready, he’d bring over a tray with your favorite dishes, setting it right in your lap before settling right beside you.

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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 2 days ago

Text

STRETCH (M)

★ PAIRING: cheerleader!Jaemin x cheer captain!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: Jaemin can't fit into his cheer uniform anymore because he's been working out too much. While you can't help but admire his muscles, you realize the entire team is admiring him too and that's not going to fly. You decide you need to take action and get Jaemin a new uniform

★ ☆ WARNINGS: unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, explicit sexual intercourse, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: The concept of cheerleader Jaemin is just too hot to me so I had to spin the block on this one. Continuation of Team Spirit! that can be read as a stand alone!

────୨ৎ────

Jaemin has been bulking up lately. He had always been really into fitness and a bit of a gym rat, but since joining the cheerleading squad, he hadn't had time for his regular workouts, Now with competition season over he was back at it and you couldn’t help but notice the results. His chest looked fuller, and his arms rippled with defined muscle, showing off all the dedication he’s been putting in.

But as much as you loved his body, it was definitely time for him to size up his uniform.

His chest was starting to press tightly against the front of his shirt, the stretchy spandex doing little to hide the swell of his muscles. The uniform shirt he wore was a crop top that showcased his abs. That was a sight that was already causing issues, stealing your attention at the wrong time. But this? This was far beyond what anyone should have to deal with. The fabric was strained to its limit, and each breath he took only made it worse.

You doubted that going up a size in spandex would make much of a difference, but something had to give—he was practically bursting out of his uniform. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Standing on the opposite side of the gym, you watched him closely as he moved. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his toned arms flexed beneath a snug black spandex top. To be honest, it was quite a sight. You enjoyed observing the way his body moved in the uniform, but then reality hit when you noticed the rest of the team admiring his outfit as well.

The fun was over, that shirt had to go. You weren’t deaf to the whispers that drifted around the locker room when your teammates thought you weren't listening. You overheard them making comments about how good he looked. You had to forcibly push aside the twinge of jealousy that threatened to creep in, reminding yourself to stay composed and maintain a level head. You were captain, you couldn't just go on a jealous rampage.

You did eventually find a bit of solace in making those who had whispered about him run extra drills. It felt good to dish out some consequences for their gossip. Plus, the glare you shot their way throughout practice was enough to let them know you were aware of their little comments. After that, suddenly no one had anything to whisper about anymore.

Strange how that works.

You walked into the locker room after practice, a small bag in your hand. “I ordered you a new top,” you said casually, trying to avoid eye contact. Jaemin was always able to read you like a book and you were beyond embarrassed at the fact you couldn't focus during practice because of his boobs. He did not need to know what thoughts swirled around in your head.

Jaemin's head turns towards your direction, a curious expression on his face. "What's wrong with the one I have now?" he asked.

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's getting stretched out. It's time for a new one."

He looked unimpressed, clearly not buying your excuse but after a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, "Okay."

It wasn’t until Jaemin put on the new uniform top that you realized the mistake you had made. As he stood in front of you in the locker room, the shirt hung loosely around him, nearly swallowing his athletic frame. The baggy sleeves sagged at his arms, and the hem of the top drooped far below his waistline. You could see the dissatisfaction written all over his face as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Uh, this… isn’t really the right fit, is it?" he asked, trying to tug at the fabric to adjust it.

"I swear it looked smaller online." You mentally kicked yourself for not double-checking the sizing.

Jaemin turned to face you fully, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "So, what? I’m just going to run around in a tent now?" His tone is playful.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I’ll order you something else. I promise I’ll get the right size this time."

"I just don't see what's wrong with my old one," he said, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words as you eyed him. "D-don't you think the other one is a little tight?" you ask.

Jaemin shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Feels the same to me.”

You took a breath, trying to be subtle. “In the chest area,” you emphasized, hoping to steer the conversation in the right direction, trying to give him as much of a hint as possible without sounding too blunt.

He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he glanced down at his torso. “Is that so?”

“It’s just that your old one hugs your body… a little too well, you know?”

Jaemin's eyes widened as he caught on. "Ohhhh...I see.” A smirk played on his lips. “Then I think it fits perfectly."

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. The way he looked at you—the confidence mixed with mischief—made your stomach flutter. You felt yourself blush, caught between wanting to call him out and being completely distracted by how effortlessly charming he was. "I'd agree if the entire team didn't think the same thing," you muttered, trying to deflect.

Jaemin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Kinda like how the gym feels about you and your cute little spandex shorts during summer practice?" he asked, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You felt your face heat up as he mentioned your shorts. You'd always thought they were just a comfortable choice, until the day he told you how much they showed off your ass and banned you from wearing them. "They're comfy," you said defensively, trying to brush it off.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow.

Okay, whatever," you huffed, eager to shift the topic. “But back to the point, this was supposed to be about finding you something that actually fits.”

"So what if it's a bit stretched out now? It's got character. Plus, it's like my lucky shirt now."

You shook your head, laughing. "Lucky shirt?" You echoed, incredulous.

He nodded, a fierce look on his face. "You can't keep your eyes off me when I wear it, so it must be lucky,” he says.

You groaned inwardly; he was going to be so insufferable in that shirt now. Why had you ever mentioned how it affected you? You could already tell he was going to exploit this newfound power over you.

Rolling your eyes with a shrug, you replied, “Whatever.”

You’d just have to come up with another plan to get rid of that shirt once and for all.

—

Ever since you discussed your thoughts on Jaemin's shirt, you could swear it had gotten tighter. You were convinced that the shirt held some sort of magical power of enchantment because you couldn’t focus. You were missing cues and forgetting routines left and right, all while Jaemin pranced around in his annoyingly snug shirt.

It was almost as if he was wearing a compression shirt that not only accentuated his chest but also highlighted his stupidly disgusting slutty waist that you definitely didn’t want to grip onto while he pounded you into the nearest surface. You were losing your grip on reality, and all of it was thanks to him and that evil shirt.

You found yourself watching Jaemin when you really shouldn’t. He was in the middle of his routine, and you had only seconds left before your cue to come in on the opposite side of the mat. You didn’t have time to think about your face buried in his chest, or how firm it would feel under your fingertips.

Your teammates began to notice your distraction, and whispers started to circulate about your sudden lack of focus. "Dude, you okay?" one of them asked, nudging you playfully. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but you knew you weren't fooling anyone.

Suddenly you hated cheerleading. If it weren't for cheer, Jaemin would never have become a cheerleader, he wouldn't be sporting that top, and these thoughts wouldn’t be plaguing you now.

You missed your cue because of course you do, and the irritation in Seungkwan's expression was immediate.

“Okay, how about we take a break? I feel like everyone isn’t checked in today,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you with a pointed intensity. You roll your eyes instantly regretting making him your second co-captain next to Nayeon.

As you step off the mat you go straight to your water bottle, you need to cool down. Your eyes naturally find Jaemin and you swore you saw a brief smirk flicker across his face, only to vanish just as quickly. Did he think this was a game? Did he find it funny?

You would show him funny.

When you showed up in the spandex shorts Jaemin had banned you from wearing to practice, there was no humorous twinkle behind his eye anymore when he'd caught sight of you. His face fell, eyes glued to your thighs.

“Oops,” you said playfully, walking past him with a bounce in your step. As you moved, you could feel his gaze lingering. "Let's have a good practice today, everyone!" you called out to the floor

Nayeon leads the stretches, and you follow along with the rest of the team on the floor. You don't bother pulling the hem of your shorts down when they roll up, knowing full well what it did to Jaemin. You sit on the floor with your legs straight out Infront of you in a seated pike stretch. You reach out to touch your toes, tilting your head just enough to catch Jaemin’s reaction in the corner of your eye. Just as you expected his eyes haven't left your ass since you walked into the gym.

You pulled yourself back up straight, trying to play it cool as seungkwan announced for everyone to find a partner for stretches. Jaemin was at your side in a heartbeat.

“Next break, you’re changing out of those,” Jaemin says firmly, leaving no room for argument. He pulls you to stand in front of him, your back to his chest. His grip on your waist is strong. His hands travel and In one fluid motion, he grabs your thigh spreading your legs apart, then slides down the back of your thigh until he hooks under your knee. With a gentle lift, he raised your leg into a heel stretch, his fingers gliding sensually up your leg until they rested at your calf.

“Says who?” you challenged, trying to maintain your composure. “These are comfy, and they let me stretch to my full potential.” You tilt your head to look at the position he’s bent you into.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body pressing against you. You could feel that he’s hard pressed up against you.

“Also, I don’t remember asking for your permission to wear whatever I want,” you add.

Jaemin stretches your leg a little further, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make you feel the burn.

“You’re going to take them off, or I'll do it for you.”

As you stretched, a whine escaped you, and your lips instinctively pouted. "Fuck you," you spat out.

His response came swiftly: "Watch your mouth." He spits back.

He slowly lowered your leg, and once you caught your breath, he met your gaze with a challenging look in his eye. Jaemin was the sweetest thing but he would always be quick to put you in your place when you step out of line. He gestured for you to drop into a split, and with a subtle dip of your head, you secretly rolled your eyes but reluctantly obeyed.

You ease into a split and Jaemin situates himself on his knees behind you, his body leaning against yours in a warm press of heat. He gently pushes you forward, his hand gliding down to rest on your lower back for support. You lean into a saddle split, hands splayed out in front of you as you stretch forward.

Jaemin adds pressure and you're forced to delve even further into the stretch. His body provides an added push against yours, testing your limits. You grit your teeth, drawing on your flexibility to hold the position, but you could feel the burn.

It's not easy to hold the position, even with how flexible you are. You're used to bouncing back up, shaking out your muscles, and moving on to the next stretch. But with Jaemin's guidance, you're forced to push your boundaries and remain still, letting your body adapt to the demands of the stretch.

"Jaemin let me up." You huff.

“Gonna take ’em off?” he quips, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Fine!” you relent.

Jaemin allows you to sit up and once you catch your breath he helps you stand. He looks you in your eyes as he tugs on the hem of your shorts, pulling them down just enough after they’ve rolled up, raising an eyebrow at you in a silent dare. "Keep them that way," he stated with an air of authority, making your cheeks burn in annoyance.

“Okay, guys, back to your positions! We're going to start routines soon!” Nayeon called out.

With Nayeon and Seungkwan in charge of leading stretches, it was now your turn to step up and guide the rest of practice. You burn holes into the back of Jaemin's head as he joins up with Shotaro as practice officially starts.

—

After everyone else had cleared out, you found yourself cornering Jaemin in the locker room.

“This isn’t fair,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “If I can’t wear my shorts, you aren’t allowed to wear that stupid crop top.”

Jaemin turned to you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Is that what this is about? Can’t keep your eyes off me, so you decided to pull this stunt? I thought you were more mature than that, baby." His smirk widened as he leaned against the locker, arms crossed over his chest. The way that obnoxious top clung to his newly bulked-up frame was maddening.

“Newsflash, Jaemin. I wear those because they’re comfy.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to confront him. "You wear that shirt because you like, some kind of attention whore. How do you even breathe in that thing?” Your voice echoed slightly in the empty locker room, bouncing off the tiled walls.

His laugh was low and utterly infuriating, the casual way he dismissed your frustration only stoking the fire inside you. He pushed off the locker, closing the distance between you in two easy strides. Suddenly, his hands landed on your hips, warm and firm, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“And what if I am?” Jaemin murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you firmly in place. “It got your attention, so what are you going to do about it? You gonna punish me for it?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be mad at him. But the way he looked at you, all dark eyes and that cocky grin, made it hard to think straight.

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your voice wavered just a fraction, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

Jaemin’s smile deepened, and before you could react, he spun you around, his body pressing your back against the cold metal lockers. He pinned you there, solid and unyielding. One hand slid up your side while the other gripped your thigh, lifting it over his hip slightly so he could press himself closer.

“Go ahead,” he dared, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Punish me.”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel how hard he was pressed against you, and it took everything in you not to squirm. Instead, you raised your chin defiantly.

“Don’t think I will?,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Jaemin’s lips curved into an amused smile, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You won't.”

His hand slid to your hips, fingers slipping past the waistline of your shorts to toy with you. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, but it escaped anyway, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

“Let me hear you baby, I know.” he teased, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your clit. “I can tell, you know. Every time you look at me during practice. You get that naughty look in your eyes when you know you're supposed to be focusing. Bad girl.” He coos.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though your protest lacked any real conviction. His touch was too distracting, his words too close to the truth.

Jaemin chuckled, pulling his hands from your shorts. “Make me…or are you done pretending to be in charge.”

That did it. You shoved him back, pressing your palms against his chest. He stumbled slightly, his back hitting the row of lockers opposite you.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing heavily, staring each other down. Then, without thinking, you closed the gap between you, grabbing the hem of his stupid uniform top and yanking it up.

Jaemin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. You tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. You let your gaze roam over his body, taking in the changes that had occurred. His shoulders were broader than before, his chest more defined. The faint trail of hair leading from his navel downward made your mouth go dry.

“Happy now?” he asked, his voice rough.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, catching his bottom lip between your teeth in a quick, punishing bite. He hissed, but his hands immediately found your hips again, pulling you flush against him.

“Not even close,” you whispered against his mouth before kissing him properly, hard and demanding. Jaemin responded instantly, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a urgency that made your head spin.

Somehow, you ended up on the bench, his weight pressing you down into the hard wood. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

“Jaemin,” you gasped, your voice barely audible.

He lifted his head, meeting your eyes for a brief moment before capturing your mouth again. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation made you moan into the kiss, and Jaemin grinned against your lips.

“Not so bossy now huh captain?” he murmured.

You glared at him and opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue as his hand slipped lower, past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brushed against the slick warmth between your legs, and you couldn’t stop the tremble that ran through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Jaemin’s smile was downright predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re so wet already,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All because of me? or maybe it was because of that crop top you claim to hate so much? You like it, admit it.”

You wanted to deny it, to push him away and regain some shred of control. But instead, you tilted your hips, silently urging him on. His fingers dipped inside you, slow and deliberate, and your head fell back against the bench.

“Jaemin,” you moaned, his name becoming a broken chant on your lips. His thumb circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. You writhed beneath him, desperate for more, but he kept his pace agonizingly slow, drawing out every sensation until you thought you might explode.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice dark and commanding.

You shook your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction but Jaemin wasn’t having it. He withdrew his hand, leaving you aching and empty, and propped himself up on his forearm above your head to look down at you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his eyes burning into yours.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the need coursing through your veins. Finally, you gave in, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I want you. All of you. Now.”

Jaemin didn’t need to be told twice. Jaemin swiftly strips you down, his hands moving with practiced ease. The cold wood of the bench bites into your back as you make contact, sending a shiver down your spine. The locker room was cool and you can’t help the goose bumps that prickle your skin. He reached for the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself. Once he's between your legs you reach out, gripping him in your warm palm and stroking him over a few times. His mouth hangs open in pleasure. He watched, breathless as you brush his tip against your entrance. Once you dip the head in he's taking over again and pushing his hips forward to drive into you in one smooth motion. The gasp that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.

He starts at a brutal pace, not in the mood for anymore games. His hips snap against your ruthlessly and you have to wrap your legs around his waist to stop yourself from sliding off the bench. Jaemin groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he moved.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Your body trembles as the pressure builds inside you. He slips a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. You arch your back in response. As your legs began to tremble, you felt Jaemin's smile pressed against your skin when he kissed your shoulder.

“That's right baby. Is this what you needed?” he murmured between choppy breaths, his voice low and sultry.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his unrelenting thrusts and cruel fingers. You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mouth opens to respond; you know better than to remain silent, but nothing comes out. You nod your head lazily instead.

He shakes his head at you disapprovingly. “You know that's not good enough princess. Use those fucking, words.” He punctuates each of his words with a toe curling thrust of his hips as he pumps into you.

“Yes! F–fuck, don't stop.” You cry.

“Mmm,” He moans before leaning down to kiss you again. The kiss is wet and full of tongue as he licks into your mouth. “Gonna fill you up.”

When you finally came, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls, your nails scratching down his back. Jaemin followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you. You shiver as his hot seeds spill inside of you. When he pulls out his eyes watch as his cum drips out of you. You reach down in between your legs and collect his cum before pushing it back inside of you with a moan.

“Don’t want to waste a drop.” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

Jaemin eyes you hungrily before he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. He needed to calm himself before he had you pinned up against the lockers next.

Jaemin gets up before he decides to have you again, getting off the bench to rummage through his bag. He comes back to you with a towel and cleans you up. He gathers your clothes and helps you dress again before following suit.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice still rough, “how do you really feel about the crop top”

You turned to look at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?” You couldn’t wrap your head around how he effortlessly switched from driving you wild to being your sweet boyfriend in an instant.

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to fill the chilly locker room, and pulled you closer. “Dead serious.”

You sighed, unable to meet his gaze. “I… I like it.” You admit.

Jaemin's smile widened, but just as he was about to respond, you jumped in to clarify.

“BUT! That doesn’t mean I’m letting you wear it to practice. We’re going to order you the correct size, and as for that one,” you said, your gaze narrowing playfully at the shirt still lying on the floor, “that one is for my eyes only.”

“Deal.”

#jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x you #jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #jaemin x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios

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cheapshrimpysheep · 3 days ago

Text

Unlucky Overtime

SUMMARY: The Spelldrive game against Royal Sword Academy was very close. But it was in overtime that the teams broke the tie and Night Raven College... lost. They were very upset by this loss and need your comfort even if they deny it.

CHARACTERS: Spelldrive Club 🧹 (Leona Kingscholar; Ruggie Bucchi; Epel Felmier)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 780 words per character.

COMMENTS: Following the same premise as what I wrote for Basketball Club and Track and Field Club of "What if they lost?"

When I started writing about comforting them when they lose, I ended up finding it more interesting and cute than celebrating when they win. I think it's in the bad times that feelings are most intimate and honest.

When I wrote Epel's part, I was upset about something IRL and it ended up helping me writing him. 😂

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: If there are competitive players who love to win, they are the members of the NRC Spelldrive Club. Leona, Ruggie and Epel especially. They were playing with everything, especially because of the school they were playing against. The game against Royal Sword Academy was very close, as expected.

When the game ended they needed to break the tie and so the game went into overtime. But unfortunately, this did not give your school the victory.

Leona seemed upset about losing, as did the other players on his team. But even so, he was the calmest in comparison.

They congratulated the RSA students on their victory (or as close to it as possible, if we ignore the slight growls and murderous looks). They avoided unnecessary interactions until they could leave the field.

You know very well how Leona hates to lose, especially when he tries so hard. And so you knew you had to check on him and try to comfort him, even if he says he doesn't want you to.

You go to the locker rooms exit, but you don't see Leona coming out. Many of the players looked at you angrily when they passed by, but knowing how close you were to Leona, they didn't have the courage to even be rude to you directly.

When you see Ruggie, you ask him about Leona. He tells you that Leona left right after he came in, that he went in, grabbed his things and left. He didn't even change his clothes. This worries you and Ruggie.

“You should go check on him.” Ruggie tells you. “And even if he says he wants to be alone, don't listen, okay? He likes your company even if he doesn't like to admit it. I would also warn you not to pressure him, but you already know that.”

“And where do you think he went?” You ask.

“Where do you think he went? Come on, it's not like we don't know his favorite spots.”

You decided to try your luck at the Botanical Garden, and it looks like you were right, but you didn't realize it right away. You go to one of his favorite spots under a certain tree. You look around, but you don't see anyone, until you suddenly see a tail appearing hanging down beside you. You look up and see Leona lying on a thick branch above you.

“I don't need your comfort.” Leona says, without moving and without looking at you. “Go to your dorm. It's late.”

“You wanted me to see you.” You say. “Otherwise you wouldn't let your tail fall beside me.”

“Believe what you want, herbivore.”

His tail was still there by your side and you don't resist to touch it to mess with him. You reach your hand towards his tail, but at the last second it swings, lightly hits you in the face and returns to Leona's lap, away from you. He finally looks at you, but with an annoyed face and growls.

“I'm not in the mood to play. Go away before I bite you... Don't look at me like that.” He adjusts his head again and stops looking at you.

You sit down against the tree trunk. He growls again, but doesn't move. Just like with cats, you'll just stay there waiting for him to come to you. You use your phone or read a book while you wait.

A few minutes later it starts to get colder, you start to notice it and curl up a little. Suddenly something falls on top of your head, you uncover yourself and see that it is a long coat. Leona's captain's coat. You look up and see him in the same lazy position but without the coat and just with the black clothes and belts. You put it on and you start to warm up right away because it was still warm from him having been wearing it.

A few more minutes later and you are startled again by something that falls right in front of you. Or rather, that lands right in front of you.

“Don't you get tired?” Leona asks you, crouching down and looking you in the eyes. “Of being so stubborn?” He has that unbothered, but still slightly annoyed face.

You put down what you had in your hands and stretch your legs on the floor. He gives you a little throat growl. You smile, but he growls at you more, and suddenly he throws himself at you as if he's going to attack you. But he didn't. He stopped very close to your face.

“Yes. I'm angry that I lost.” He says in a low voice. “And that's why you shouldn't have come to me. I don't need pity or words of comfort.”

“Do you really think I pity you?” You ask. “I wasn't worried about you being angry. I was worried that you would fall back into that depressive state of feeling like life is unfair and it's not worth trying anymore.”

His green eyes remain fixed on yours and suddenly he kisses you eagerly. You already know him well enough to know what truly hides behind those roars and tough guy mask. His instinct was to reward you for it.

After he breaks the kiss he lays his head either on your chest or in your lap and hugs you. You are trapped now until he is willing to let you go.

Ruggie was so angry that Leona had to calm him down. All the NRC players congratulated the RSA players, but clearly only because it was what they had to do. The tension and animosity could be cut with a knife. After that, the NRC players go straight to the locker rooms. You feel like you should check on Ruggie.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. Some of the players who passed you on their way out gave you bad looks, but knowing how close you were to Ruggie, they did nothing more than just grumble into the air.

When Ruggie finally left he was still angry. When he saw you, his expression didn't change much other than being a little embarrassed.

“Hi, sorry, I don't have time.” He apologizes, clearly trying to avoid you, but smiling. “I want to put these clothes in the wash ASAP.” He walks around you and starts going away.

You follow him.

“I was thinking about trying those new donuts from Sam's shop with you.” You say.

You see his ears twitch with interest.

“Yeah... but you know, I'm not really hungry. And since they're new, those donuts are still expensive. I'm waiting for him to lower the price a little.”

“Don't worry, I already bought them for you.”

Ruggie stops! And looks at you in surprise.

“You did?! Why?”

“I wanted to give them to you after the game anyway. You know, for the good game.” You see him pouting. “I didn't buy them as a consolation gift. I did it before the game started. I was going to give them to you even if you had won.”

He seemed more satisfied with that explanation and you took out the box you had in your backpack.

“How come I don't smell it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I asked Sam if there was a way to hide the scent from you. He used a spell on the box.”

Ruggie asks you if he charged extra for the spell. You said he didn't. Before you open the box, Ruggie suggests that you go to a more chill place. After all, you were still near the locker rooms surrounded by players and spectators.

The Windmill is right behind the coliseum and not many people usually go there. In fact, there was no one else there. The two of you sat on the edge of the stream that surrounded the Windmill. The sound of running water could calm both of you.

You open the box, take out one of the donuts and hold it up to his mouth. He blushes a little, but accepts your offer and takes a bite. You loosen your grip and he takes the donut out of your hand with his mouth.

While he was eating he looked at the water and despite the calming sound his anger returned because of the thoughts that also returned to that game. You could hear him mumbling softly, and see his ears back and his teeth showing.

He finishes eating the donut and stands up abruptly, starting to release his frustration with swearing and cursing to the air, kicking the ground and even pulling up grass. You remain sitting on the floor eating your donut.

As soon as he finishes his emotional outburst, which he always did with his back to you, he finally turns around, dropping his arms and sighing. He kneels down next to you, looks at you with a pout, picks up the box of donuts and takes it from your lap. For a second you think he's going to steal all the donuts for himself, but he sets the box aside and lays his head in your lap as if he's laying it on the pillow after a tantrum. You even hear a dog-like whining. If you pet his head, you might see his tail wagging a little.

The two of you continued eating the donuts as you pet his head and ears to comfort him. When the donuts are gone and the box is empty, he gets up, sitting on the grass next to you. Ruggie looks at you, still a little sad, but calmer and with an affectionate sparkle in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything, he just throws himself into a kiss as a thank you.

EPEL WAS PISSED!!! Leona and Ruggie had to calm him down. Even RSA players were scared to see someone like Epel like that. Like other NRC players he avoided unnecessary interactions with players from the opposing and winning team.

As soon as they were able to retreat to the locker rooms Epel was one of the quickest to leave the field. You knew you should check on him.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. You see the other NRC players walk past you, angry about losing and when you finally see Epel coming out of the locker room, the expression on his face is the same if not worse than that of his other teammates, even the vein in his forehead was bulging.

But that changes completely the moment he sees you. His shoulders, and consequently his posture, relaxed and he smiled slightly at you, knowing he couldn't fool you with a big smile. He had a bandage on his nose because of the injury he suffered when he blocked a shot with his face during the game.

You walk over to him and carefully place your hands on his face, showing your concern for his injury. He blushes!

“D-Don't worry. I'm fine, I promise... Gah, wait! Vil’s gonna kill me when he sees me like this!” He suddenly worries.

You say that Vil doesn't need to see him so soon and suggest that the two of you go for a walk so he can clear his head a bit. He sighs and accepts your offer, you are usually right at these times.

“I really need to go for a walk. Or a run. Dagnabbit, I don't even know if walking around the entire campus is enough. If we could leave the camps whenever we wanted and I had a Blastcycle, or... OH! What if you come with me for a broom ride?”

“But you just finished a game of Spelldrive.” You say “Are you sure getting back on a broomstick will be good for you?”

“Don't worry, I can separate a game from a ride. Trust me, it will be good to feel the fresh wind on my face.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

He goes to get his broom and you climb on it behind him, holding on to his torso. The beginning of the ride is pleasant, but eventually he starts to speed up until he reaches a point where you squeeze him and ask him to slow down.

“AH! Sorry, sorry, sorry! My mind went back to that game and I got angry again. I must have started speeding up by accident because of that. Sorry... I think we should stop somewhere for a break.”

He lands on the roof of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Sorry again if I worried you.” He tells you after you both get off the broom. But the ride actually helped me a bit.” Suddenly he grimaces in pain and puts his fingers to the bandage on his nose, it seems his bad mood was returning.

You cup his face and kiss his nose lightly. He blushes a lot again and look away from you.

“I wanted you to see us win.” He admits. “I was so excited to know you were watching. I really wanted to make you proud.”

You tell him that you're proud of him, just as Ruggie and Leona probably are too. Who wouldn't be? He always works so hard to improve. And he's still just a freshman, there will be more opportunities to win, he's just starting out. And for a start, you're sure he played better than a lot of freshmen. You finish by saying that he should rest, especially with an injury like that, and you even offer to take care of it for him if he needs.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N).” He smiles sweetly at you. “I promise I'll give you a win next time.”

If you say that you would prefer him to be more careful, his smile and gaze will become even more affectionate.

“I'll try. Although... hum, nothing.”

You say that now you want to know and he blushes slightly.

“I... I was just thinking that... it must be nice to be taken care of by you. I wouldn't mind getting a shot in the face again for that. Ha ha ha.”

If you hug him, he will freeze for a second, but then he will hug you back and you will feel a loving squeeze, as he whispers a thank you. If you let him, he will kiss your cheek after the hug. And if you want, he will continue with another type of kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader

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seungfl0wer · 2 days ago

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*Daddy Chan*

Daddy Series:

Contains Smut:

A/N: I could have kept going with this and yes it’s already long. But like- Chans the definition of this series ok? 😂

-💜

•He’s just in his element.

•If any of them have a daddy thing it’s 100% him.

•He treats you like a princess.

•Spoils the fuck out of you.

•Gets grumpy when you try and pay for anything because how dare you.

•He’s such a gentleman.

•You’ll never have to open your own doors.

•He enjoys taking long showers together and after

•He loves having you sit infront of him brushing your hair for you.

•Matching outfits, matching jewelry.

•He’s so easy to talk to too.

•If you’re having a bad day, you know you can just curl up with him and cry.

•He’s great at consoling you when anything happens.

•Holding you tightly to him as he reminds you about how amazing you are.

•He’s super clingy honestly.

•If you’re with him he’s always gotta be touching you in some way.

•Hand holding, Legs touching. Something.

•You keep him more grounded than you probably know.

•He finds almost anything you do super cute.

•Oh this man just gets all cheesy when you’re pouting. Finds it so fucking cute.

•Definitely doesn’t have a whole folder of songs for your birthday or anniversary.

•You’re literally like a fire to him and he’s the moth.

•It’s really hard to ever really really upset him.

•He’s pretty level headed.

•Most days if you’re being grumpy or cranky he’ll sit with you asking what’s the matter and how he can help.

•If you’re giving him attitude almost always he can make you stop with just that look.

•He has the habit of telling you way to sweetly “fix your attitude princess or I’ll have to fix it for you. Be good for daddy”

•He’s really to soft, but when he needs to be stern he does it in a way that still makes you feel so safe.

•He’s really just a safe space. You’ll never feel like your emotions are too much with him.

•He constantly will reassure you.

•He sends you such loving messages too, long paragraphs of why he loves you.

•Never not having a good morning or good night text. Even if you just got off the phone.

•It feels like taboo to him not too.

•He’s not a super jealous type, but he’s protective.

•He knows you love him so much, your eyes never leaving his.

•But how can he trust others when you’re just so cute.

•He’ll hover over you when you’re out sometimes. Like he’s waiting. Ready to attack anyone who dares upset him princess.

•Constantly hugs yous tightly burring himself into you saying “mine” cutely.

•He’s really just wrapped around your finger and he’s fine with that.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He has almost 2 personality’s.

•The super sweet loving one where he wants to take it so slow.

•He’ll eat you out for hours making sure you cum before you even fuck.

•He talks so much. He talks you through it 100%.

•He makes just as much noises as you do tbh.

•He’s a missionary lover for sure.

•Always wanting to see your pretty face. Plus how else is he gonna kiss you?

•He’s just so sensual and passionate.

•Other times he- can just lose himself.

•Stressful day? He’s having you on your knees while he face fucks you.

•He’s definitely into free use with you especially waking you up with head or his dick just slowly pushing into you.

•All with complete consent. He’ll never do anything without asking you prier and establishing boundaries.

•Has a safe word and does the color system.

•He can get ahead of himself sometimes. Losing it with you.

•Pushing your face into the bed fucking you like he hates you.

•Those beautiful hands of his leaving bright red hand prints on your ass.

•Or wrapped around your neck like a choker. He also really enjoys having you suck his fingers.

•Breeding kink. Breeding kink. Breeding kink.

•He’s also somehow so good at degrading you while making it sound so- sweet?

•”My dirty little princess, you’re soaked just from kissing?”

•He has one of those machines that can fuck you while he’s not home. And of course a custom made dildo that is a mold of his cock.

•Loves FaceTiming you while on tour guiding you through your orgasm.

•Always teases you and doesn’t let you cum at first. Not until you’re begging well enough.

•This man is also team remote vibe.

•He just thinks it’s so damn adorable watching you squirm while you’re out.

•He’s not much better though. He can’t keep his hands to himself.

•Could be having dinner out and he’s gonna be knuckles deep into your sopping hole till he can’t handle it.

•100%. Fucks you infront of mirrors. Not only so you can watch how well he fucks you.

•But so he can tell you things like “look how beautiful you are when you’re cumming around my cock”

•Like I said he’s definitely a talker so something’s he says are:

•”Daddy’s gonna fill you so full princess. I’m gonna fuck you till I know you’re pregnant.”

•”Don’t you run from me, I’m not done with you yet”

•”God it’s like you were made to take my cock princess.”

•”Daddy loves you, love you so fucking much.”

•And one of his favorites “you say you can’t take it anymore but you’re pretty hole is telling me she wants more”

•King of aftercare.

•On days he goes a little harder he’s making sure you know he loves you.

•He has you wrapped in his arms while he talks to you.

•Likes to sing to you to calm you down from intense orgasms.

•Warm baths with candles, and snacks.

•Kinda like Minho he puts one of his hoodies in the dryer for you.

•Making sure it smells like him before he wraps you in the warmth.

•You’re basically trapped for a while because he just wants to hold you.

•He really loves you and he wants to make sure you always know that.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143 @hyunjins-orange-slice-too

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 days ago

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HEAD OVER HEELS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which drew starkey is head over heels in love with his girlfriend, y/n.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like this anon, you didn’t request a specific plot so i went with this :)

WARNINGS: pure fluff, obsessed!drew but in a cutie patootie way !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: i promise guys i will sort out making a master list tonight !! for now, click on my personalised tags like #bettys asks !!

WORD COUNT: 1k

THIRD PERSON +

Drew couldn't stop talking about her. His girlfriend, Y/N, that is.

His castmates on the Outer Banks set had long since grown used to it, though they still teased him mercilessly. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his phone between takes and scroll through pictures of her, showing anyone who would listen. Even Chase joked once, "You know, Drew, we've all met her. You don't have to keep proving she exists."

But Drew didn't care. He loved talking about her. Loved the way her smile lit up his entire day, the way her laughter felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. Y/N was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

"She's visiting today," Drew announced, a giddy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the craft services table.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You've only mentioned that about a hundred times this week."

"Yeah, and what's your point?" Drew shot back, unbothered. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, taking a sip before adding, "I just can't wait for you guys to see her again. She's incredible."

Madelyn exchanged a knowing look with Rudy, who was attempting (and failing) to suppress a laugh.

When Y/N finally arrived on set that afternoon, Drew spotted her instantly. She stepped out of the car, her hair slightly tousled from the coastal breeze, and his entire world seemed to pause. She was wearing his favorite sundress—the one he'd told her once made her look like a walking daydream—and he couldn't stop the wide, lovesick smile that overtook his face.

"Y/N!" Drew called out, practically sprinting toward her.

Before she could respond, he had her wrapped in his arms, lifting her off the ground as she let out a surprised laugh.

"Joseph Andrew Starkey! Put me down!" she exclaimed, though she was grinning just as much as he was.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around once before finally setting her back on her feet. "God, I missed you."

"You saw me three days ago," she teased, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And that's three days too long," he said without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It didn't take long for the rest of the cast to spot her. Chase and Rudy came over to say hi, both of them giving her warm hugs and cracking jokes about how Drew had been "insufferable" without her.

"You're a saint for putting up with him," Rudy quipped, earning a playful shove from Drew.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly as Drew laced their fingers together. "He's not so bad," she said, glancing up at Drew with a soft smile.

"Not so bad?" Drew repeated, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm the perfect boyfriend."

"And humble, too," she teased, nudging him lightly.

The group chatted for a while before Drew pulled her away, eager to have her to himself. He brought her to his trailer, where he'd set up a small surprise for her: a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a handwritten note resting on the table.

"Drew," she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned to look at him. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You deserve it. You deserve everything."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as she took a deep breath. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Not possible," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the rest of the day, Drew was glued to her side. He introduced her to everyone on set—again—even though most of them already knew her from her previous visits. But it didn't matter to Drew. He wanted to show her off, to let the world see just how amazing she was.

During breaks in filming, he would find her wherever she was sitting and drape himself over her like an oversized golden retriever. "You comfortable?" he'd ask, despite the fact that he was the one taking up all the space.

"Very," she'd reply, laughing as she adjusted to make room for him.

When it came time for Drew to shoot his scenes, Y/N watched from the sidelines, her eyes filled with pride. He'd glance over at her between takes, flashing her a grin or a wink, and her heart would flutter every time.

At one point, Madelyn leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "He's like this all the time, you know. Completely obsessed with you."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm not complaining," she said softly, her gaze never leaving Drew.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the set, Drew was practically attached to her hip. He posted a candid photo of her sitting on a beach chair, the ocean in the background and a soft smile on her face. The caption was simple: My favourite view.

"You're going to make people sick with how sweet you are," she joked when she saw the post.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Let them be sick. I don't care."

That night, as they sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash against the shore, Drew couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft but steady.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised.

"I mean it," he continued, his gaze locked on hers. "I love you. More than anything."

A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Drew."

In that moment, with the stars beginning to twinkle above them and the sound of the ocean in the background, Drew felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. With her.

Always with her.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet :’) there’s something about guys who are so lovesick and obsessed with their gf’s that just MELTS my heart😫

i’m still working my way through all my requests from oldest to newest (except a couple i got good inspiration for), so please be patient if you’ve recently requested something !! <3

#bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #outer banks #fluff #obx #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey obx #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey imagine

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sky-scribbles · 1 day ago

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I'm going to say something controversial. I think there's something Veilguard does better than any other Dragon Age game. Namely: incorporating the companions into the plot.

Look, I love Origins as much as everyone. But to be frank: you could cut every companion except Alistair, Morrigan and Loghain and the plot could still work. Once you've finished the mission where you recruit a companion, there aren't other main quests that involve them in any way.

Oghren and Wynne could have stayed home after their recruitment missions for all the difference it would make to the main plot. Sten, Leliana and Zevran could vanish and nothing would change, because once they're on your team, they don't interact with the main plot at all. (There's the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I suppose - but even then, you'd be going on that quest whether Leliana and Wynne were there or not, and it's very telling that they can both die here and next to nothing in the rest of the game is impacted.)

Again: I love Origins. This doesn't detract from any of these characters being great, or from the story being great. It just means there's a layer of separation between the two. They're involved in the story, but they're not driving it, and you seldom get to see them have strong feelings about it.

DA2 is a huge step up. Your companions' personal stories are integral parts of the main plot. You can't do the Deep Roads expedition without witnessing Karl's death and its impact on Anders. You can't enter Act 2 without seeing Varric's brother betray him, or watching your sibling either die or begin a new path in life. Act 2's climax happens because of choices Isabela and Aveline have made. Act 3's endgame is all about Anders making one enormous decision. Even Fenris and Merrill, who have the fewest ties to the plot, have strong reasons to be invested in the Mage/Templar conflict.

And then Inquisition just... backslides. There are multiple companions you don't need to recruit at all, or can send away with zero alteration to the main plot. Your companions don't like Corypheus because he's bad, but no one - except maybe Varric - has any strong personal feelings about him. They have no personal stake in defeating him, not like Alistair has a personal stake in opposing Loghain, or Anders in opposing Meredith.

We go to the Winter Palace, and Vivienne is not made a part of that story. We have a whole subplot about the Wardens, and Blackwall only gets a couple of extra lines, if you even bring him. Their personal arcs could have been somehow impacted by these missions, and they're just... not. Sera is packed with internalised self-hatred that manifests as trying to distance herself from elven culture, to the point of sometimes lashing out at other elves. And despite all the missions you do where elven history features... Sera's growth past that flaw happens entirely offscreen between the base game and Trespasser?????

IMO, this is one of the biggest reasons why Corypheus is such a bland villain. He doesn't make anyone grow, except by starting a plot for them to be part of. He doesn't challenge them emotionally. No one is invested in him. Because no one interacts with the darn plot.

Veilguard, though? Veilguard keeps your companions interacting with the story the whole way through. The Treviso/Minrathous choice affects both Lucanis and Neve heavily, and impacts who they become for the rest of the game. These cities are personal to you, even if you're not a Crow or Shadow Dragon, because your companions love them.

The Siege of Weisshaupt is beyond personal to Davrin and Lucanis, both of whom are entrusted with major parts of the quest: trying to kill the archdemon and Ghilan'nain. Lucanis is affected by his failure to kill Ghilan'nain for ages afterward. Davrin is haunted by survivor's guilt; he should have died when he struck down the archdemon. He's alive. How can he live with that?

Whenever killing the gods becomes a possibility, Rook hands the lyrium dagger to Lucanis. When the squad go to fight the gods' dragons with the Wardens, Taash is the one to flush the first dragon out. When you infiltrate the Venatori, Neve tricks your way in, and everything that happens is especially weighty to Bellara, whose people have been abducted. On Tearstone Island, because of how Lucanis and Spite have grown, they strikes true.

Did you not hate Elgar'nan before that mission? Because you probably will after you watch him capture Bellara or Neve, and see his fellow god kill Harding or Davrin.

You know what's a great piece of writing? There's no reason Emmrich shouldn't have been an option to deal with the wards on Tearstone Island; he's one of the ideal options to take out more wards with the Veil Jumpers in the final mission. But you can't select him to do it. Because Emmrich has far less personal investment in the Elgar'nan battle than the other two. This is Neve's city. This is the monster who tries to call himself Bellara's god. The game makes sure the characters who take control of the Blight at the end are the ones with the greatest stakes in doing so.

One of your companions, not you, wrests command of the Blight from Elgar'nan. The final mission depends on how well you've come to know each companion's skills. They're just... always involved.

And they're invested, too. The companions all have serious personal reasons to hate the antagonists by the end. Lucanis and Neve have either seen their city burn, or know it happened at the cost of their friend's (and potential partner's) hometown. Davrin has seen his order devastated. These are Bellara's and Davrin's supposed gods, and instead of helping the elves reclaim their history and culture, they're trying to enslave the world. Harding learns that the Evanuris maimed and destroyed her Titan ancestors.

Emmrich and Taash have perhaps the smallest emotional tie - and sadly I do think Emmrich especially gets underutilized in the plot. But heck, Taash is still hella motivated by the way the gods are abusing dragons. And Emmrich is tied thematically to the main conflict. He's facing the question of immortality, while nigh-immortal beings are right in front of him, proving how that gift can be abused. The final choice of his personal arc is whether he's willing to embrace his personal, mortal attachments, at the cost of consequences that terrify him... you know, the same question that Solas faces at the end.

And don't even get me started on how everyone is emotionally tied to Solas. Harding and Neve watched him kill Varric in front of them. Everyone not dead or captured has to watch him drag Rook into the Fade. Just about every companion faces some kind of huge regret or failure at some point, in constant foreshadowing for Solas's prison of regret: both the literal one he sticks Rook in, and the mental one of his own making.

Veilguard has its problems, but it absolutely shines at keeping its characters involved and invested in the main story. It gives them things to do, it gives them reasons to care. For all the flaws this game has, this part is good writing.

#things I like about Veilguard #datv #da:tv #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard

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wcnderlnds · 3 days ago

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home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you.

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly.

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

#choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader #top x reader #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p #bigbang x reader

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nateconnolly · 2 days ago

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[Image ID:

Failing and Flying

Jack Gilbert

1925 –2012

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew. It’s the same when love comes to an end, or the marriage fails and people say they knew it was a mistake, that everybody said it would never work. That she was old enough to know better. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Like being there by that summer ocean on the other side of the island while love was fading out of her, the stars burning so extravagantly those nights that anyone could tell you they would never last. Every morning she was asleep in my bed like a visitation, the gentleness in her like antelope standing in the dawn mist. Each afternoon I watched her coming back through the hot stony field after swimming, the sea light behind her and the huge sky on the other side of that. Listened to her while we ate lunch. How can they say the marriage failed? Like the people who came back from Provence (when it was Provence) and said it was pretty but the food was greasy. I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell, but just coming to the end of his triumph. /end ID]

I think a lot about how we as a culture have turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success.

Like… if you open a coffee shop and run it for a while and it makes you happy but then stuff gets too expensive and stressful and you want to do something else so you close it, it’s a “failed” business. If you write a book or two, then decide that you don’t actually want to keep doing that, you’re a “failed” writer. If you marry someone, and that marriage is good for a while, and then stops working and you get divorced, it’s a “failed” marriage.

The only acceptable “win condition” is “you keep doing that thing forever”. A friendship that lasts for a few years but then its time is done and you move on is considered less valuable or not a “real” friendship. A hobby that you do for a while and then are done with is a “phase” - or, alternatively, a “pity” that you don’t do that thing any more. A fandom is “dying” because people have had a lot of fun with it but are now moving on to other things.

I just think that something can be good, and also end, and that thing was still good. And it’s okay to be sad that it ended, too. But the idea that anything that ends is automatically less than this hypothetical eternal state of success… I don’t think that’s doing us any good at all.

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vifilms · 2 days ago

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THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY

feat. contractor!abby x exgf!reader

content warning. eighteen+, smut, angst, some fluff sprinkled in, devastating dykes, nickname for reader (cherry), jealousy, long lost love trope, hazel (spoiler alert, she’s a cunt), just an emotional ass fic.

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY, she was the healing in a world that struck so much pain, a life you would like to forget, but can you truly forget just how much you loved her?

rayray sesh. been working on this baby for over a month and i’m very happy to post it on time! happy birthday, pookie — @sinstear ♡ this is my special crafted gift i wrote just for you on a day to celebrate just how amazing you are. erenboo, you deserve all the love in the world. i hope you enjoy this as much as i took joy in writing it for you. my love, sweat, tears, and cum are laced in it. special delivery. i love you so much, bub. always and forever.

✶ special shoutout to @hypnagogics aka my co-yap captain. thank you for proofreading my bigger projects. you are a godsend. my nonsensical typos would surely make it if it wasn’t for you. mwahmwah! you’re the sweetest, ily ♡

✶ header heavily inspired by the lovely @hcneymooners

word count, 14k.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 ❞

The more you try to hide from it, the harder it’ll be when you face it — at least those are the words Abby had heard from her old man for as long as she could remember. Suddenly, nearly thirty-years later, they reverberated in her mind like a ring of a bell. A vibrating reminder of how her life remained the same, your love having limitations, requirements she never could have been aware of at the ripe age of eighteen.

All she needed was more time, more understanding, and a patient heart that was never reciprocated. On a day like today, she’s reminded of

In Jacksonville, there wasn’t much going on, and talk travels faster than the speed of lightning. Murmurs of your return started the moment Dina found out, then it spread like wildfire. All of it feels just like yesterday but the spring of her youth is a far cry away, just dust and bones to be found on the ashes of adolescence.

If the world was perfect, Abby could avoid all of this.

Maybe if her life had turned out the way she envisioned.

But it didn’t and neither did yours. Not as of late. Although Abby had to be tightlipped about it, business and pleasure entangled, all of that nonsense floating around her pretty head. A voice she once thought she had forgotten comes back with a violent need to be recognized, a calming notion before it punches her in the gut.

Not to mention, she just had to be on your father’s payroll, had to face the person she was never good enough for. All of it feels nauseating. Excruciating.

Reminder of a wound she’s never recovered from. Memories high and low come flooding, and with you in her line of vision, it only gets worse.

Way fucking worse.

“What is she doing back?”

“As if anyone would want her here.”

“Abby, was she even supposed to be here?”

The questions pile along with the bile collecting in the back of Abby’s throat. The pit in her stomach manifests a black hole, feeling herself succumb to the spin of everyone’s empty threats spilling from her friends to you. Abby can tell just by the way you’re downing the glass of champagne and picking up the next, coming here wasn’t your choice.

If you could have helped it, you would have never come back in such a public setting.

“Abby, are you listening?” She sighs, but still unable to take her eyes off you.

“Do I need to rea—”

“Yeah yeah, all of you hate them. I get it.”

“It’s not that simple. They aren’t good for you.”

There’d been murmurs through the small town of your return. That’s what happens when your mom gets sick, you come home and that you did. The anniversary of your parents, forty years strong, is the first public appearance. The absence of your brother’s appearance isn’t talked about, it’s brushed over, just like everything else, just like you.

“Yep, I got it.”

“I’m just looking out for you. They don’t appreciate you and—” Abby shoots her a knowing glare, annoyed with the intrusion of everyone thinking they knew best instead of herself.

“Yeah, like I said, I hear you, but you don’t fucking know her. Neither do I, certainly not anymore.”

Running a hand through her blonde-glistening locks, the sunset saturates her golden as she ignores Hazel, taking a sip of her beer as she takes you in. Everyone always has shit to say about you. Your parents, her friends, Abby’s parents, but no one really knows you.

It’s not easy for you to let people in, you seem as harsh as can be to others, but Abby knows you’re quite the opposite.

Different from everyone in the room, a polished cream suit and open collared button up shirt with your delectable collarbones exposed, your rings twinkle as you pet the husky, one you don't know belongs to Abby. If you did, your hand might feel repelled.

It’s what you always wanted. A life out of here, out of the small town where you’ve always felt judged, persecuted, even ostracized when you came out — and you succeeded — leaving Abby behind in the process. Even if you didn’t intend to, it sort of just…happens. We leave the ones we love behind, even if it’s our last possible intention.

Goodbye notions simmer and we forget about the love we once had.

“Hazel, Dina was asking for you, she mentioned needing some help finding JJ’s pacifier?”

“On it!” Abby chuckles as the cherry-haired girl flees into the other direction as Ellie laughs harder when she’s gone.

“You’re welcome. She's like a dog with a bone when it comes to your beautiful ex-girlfriend.”

“Watch it. Calling another woman beautiful, Dina might just skin you alive.”

“Nope. She loves me too much.”

Ellie chuckles as they watch you down another glass of champagne. Freeing your hair from the tight bun, your hair springs to life as it falls around your shoulders, framing your jawline as piercing eyes find the weeds poking through the freshly cut grass.

A few people had offered up a sloppy introduction, a grievance of pity, before returning to their groups. Anxiously, you tear at the loose thread on the cuff of your sleeve. It gets longer and longer, avoiding everyone watching you.

Pretending you don’t exist. You never do. Not in this wretched town where all dreams get sucked into a bottomless pit, where believers go to die.

Abby nods, the feeling builds in the pit of her stomach as she yearns to get closer to you. Even after all the hurtful insults thrown her way years back, she’s conflicted. A missile is thrown into her life with your arrival and all of her friends, besides Ellie, tell her not to fall back into old patterns. Not to fall for your charm, not to be a victim to reckless love.

The kind that left her empty for years. Abby knew the moment she fell, from the very first time they met, if you ever left her she’d never be the same again. You don't forget a love like this. It tears a hole within you before you even get a chance to think about it, their presence consuming your entirety, an empty promise of endless salvation dies on the tip of your tongue.

Impossible shoes to ever be filled.

Truly, Abby thought she had been in love before you, but she wasn’t. The feeling she’s been chasing for the rest of her life returns when she looks at you. Those bright eyes when you play with the pup, the gentle hand as your scrap his chin with the crescent of your blunt nails.

She feels more looking at you for one moment than anyone she’s dated after you.

It’s sickening.

Still, her friends ridicule her any chance they get. Telling her of what you’re like, how you hurt her, what you’ll do when your claws sink into Abby. It falls on a hyper fixated heart. She can’t think of anything when all the blood comes rushing to her head, how beautiful you look when she sees you anxiously biting your bottom lip, something you do when you’re attempting to stop the tears from spilling.

None of them knew what it meant to look in your eyes and wonder how someone so good couldn’t recognize the purity in your eyes, the love you give out when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. They didn’t see the years of torture, the family that wasn’t so perfect, the anger you held wound so tight. You didn’t have anywhere to put it. Never could. Not when the image of the perfect daughter is meant to be upheld.

Not a soul knows the information Abby does. There’s nothing more you love than to hide in the shadows, hoping to be forgotten, how you nearly crave to be eaten alive if it means an end to your misery. It isn’t lost on her how much she wants to shield you from it all.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?”

Ellie points the glass of wine she’s been nursing to you, watching as you excuse yourself into the empty guest house. Your body is still viewable through the tall glass windows, your body disappearing from the common area of the small home. The exact one she’s been renovating per your mother’s request.

“She’ll just—” Absentmindedly, Abby kicks the dirt with the toe of her boot, rooting her heel in the ground as she bites the wall of her gums, trying to center herself. Attempting to not let her mind wander into what if’s, what could have been.

“What? Figure out you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared.” Sighing into the palm of her hands as she can’t help but bite into Ellie’s comment, “It’s been years. For all I know, Cherry hates my guts. Not that it fucking matters, but I’m the last person they want to talk to. Plus, when she’s upset the last thing they want is to talk.”

“You’ll do just fine, can’t be too bad. They were always sweet on you.”

“It’s been years, Hazel’s right, in some sense I—”

“Please, even you know the only thing she wants is to get in your pants. That part is lost on me, you’re too beefy for my taste.”

“Some people like that, dick.”

“Your girlfriend sure did.”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

The rest of the night Abby avoids all of her friends, especially the meddling junkie, Hazel; fucking hazel. She wouldn’t let her rest. They never had done more than share a friendly hug and for some reason she always looked at Abby like she hung all the stars spreading across the galaxy.

“Are you going to let Hazel think she has a chance forever?”

Abby just shakes her head in omission.

“There’s no chance, I’m not—”

“Abby! I got you a glass of lemonade. Sweet with just a few cubes of ice, just the way you like it!” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows at Abby as if she has proved her point.

As soon as Hazel turns around, Ellie goes right back to the pitch of her ex-girlfriend, trying to sell Abby on the past. The only woman Dina and her had liked in her mess of a dating scene. A long line of hookups, one serious relationship that ended so horrifically the cops had to be called, and then there was Hazel. A naive girl who had been harboring a crush for nearly a year, the time Dina had adopted her into their little makeshift family.

You walk out of the guest house more comfortably. A pair of dark denim and a black graphic tee with the sleeves cut off. Abby smiles at how much you look like the woman she fell in love with, the youthful ache she still feels with every beat of her heart. The one you crushed in the palm of her hands without thinking twice.

Abby’s throat constricts when you catch her staring, quickly looking away, biting at your fingernails before your father introduces you to the new neighbors.

“What’s so important, Hazel?” Ellie bites.

Hazel ignores her. All she can see is Abby looking right at you.

Abby had realized she completely zoned out, her energy and focus harbored on you. Five minutes within your arrival and her head was already feeling the rapid hum of her heartbeat caught in the bottom of her throat as you looked at her again, just for a second longer before you turned the other direction, away from her gaze.

“Abby—”

Abby hums absentmindedly with you on her mind, infecting her thoughts like a former addict getting their first fix for years. The high. It feels even better than her mind could remember. The curious gaze in bright eyes feels intoxicating, too good to be true, and the fall feels higher than it ever was to begin with.

“Yeah?”

“She’s coming over here.”

It only takes a few minutes before Abby takes a swig at her beer, wipes the sweat collecting on the palm of her hands. When you get closer, she notices the engraving of A.A. engraved on a glimmering silver ring.

Did you keep it after all this time?

“Tell her to leave—”

“Hazel, for the love of god, would you shut your mouth?” Ellie barks as you make your way over to Abby.

Abby tries to make her resolve hard, icy even, but it’s not. Her electrified blue eyes are warm, full of curiosity and wonder, her freckled cheeks are flushed from the heat of the sun and her barely there grin has you offering one of your own.

“Abigail, hey.”

Abby is surprised you hug her and she doesn't want to accept but it feels too rude not to. But the second her arms envelop around your body you fit perfectly into her. Just like all those years ago, you’re everything she loves. Like no time has passed, as if you didn’t rip her heart and stump out the love it once held.

“It’s just Abby now.” Hazel interjects.

“Sorry, I didn’t know, Abby, right.”

“How could you? You’d have to be around—”

Ellie gently elbows Hazel in the stomach, trying to silence her best efforts to scare you away from the treasury stock of a blonde she believes to be hers.

“Abby, sorry. I’m just—”

“You’ve always called me, Abigail. It’s alright. Promise.”

There she is.

The charm that makes you fall when you don’t need to. It’s laughable that Abigail can make years of therapy, years of dating other people to get over her seem like a dream, as if it’d only just been the two of you all of this time. Like nothing had changed.

But everything has.

“Um, do you mind if we talk in private?”

Abigail follows your lead into the empty house, the party rages outside as the two of you sit in the living room, neither of you knowing what way to take your best foot forward.

“Sorry if I made things awkward with you and your girlfriend—”

“Oh, uh, she’s not….we’re not dating or anything.”

Shit.

You wish she was.

Abby doesn’t know what to think when the expression on your face wasn’t instant relief but instead turmoil within yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as if you expected her to be in a relationship. It would leave you to escape from the overflow of feelings you had rushing through your core.

“You look shocked.”

“I just—” You bite your lip, looking anywhere but her, trying to put your best foot forward, like your father says, he’s the whole reason this conversation is even happening. “I can’t lie, it would have made this…easier? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“What are you trying to do?” Abby has a bubbly laugh threatening to burst but she swallows it for the sake of your dignity.

“Okay, well that’s not nice.”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Well, my dad he just thought that—”

“Wait, you’re talking to me because of your dad?” Abby stands up from the couch, rubbing her hands over her flushed face. “Not even because it’s been years, but because — well, why?”

“He was just encouraging me. I’m nervous, isn’t that fucking obvious? I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m eighteen again.”

She’s standing at her tall height, looking down at you as you begin to cry.

Well shit.

“Hey, hey—” Abby sinks to the floor on her knees, her body between your legs. “C’mon, there’s no need for all of that.”

“I hate that you haven’t changed.”

“Did you want me to?”

No, you say just to yourself. Not trusting the waver of your voice to give her the truth. There’s always so much on the line with her. Everything feels heavy, final, an anchor to hold you down but also drag everything you are, tangled with her sweet, honey-filled baby blues.

“Can’t you be mean to me or something? Even the playing field a little bit.”

“Not even a little, sweetheart. We both know I never could.” Her fingertips trace your forearm, a shiver courses throughout your body, “I will admit, everyone says I should.”

“They’re right. I deserve it.”

“If we all got what we deserved, well, that would be such an ugly world, wouldn’t it? Just because you did something hurtful doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human.”

“But I do deserve the cruelty.”

“Fine, I hate you.” Abby says with a smirk on her face, wiping away a stray tear, looking too fondly on the woman who broke her heart. She’s too kind for her own good.

The giggle Abby omits rivals sunshine.

“I just didn’t want it to affect the work on the house, everything between us, it’s complicated and I’ll be in the guest house while my mom’s—”

“I know, you don’t have to say it. Your dad may have mentioned it to me. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“I am too. For everything. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I was so young, scared, and I wanted you to hate me. It just seemed easier than having you actually miss me.”

“I did miss you.” Abby's warm palm might as well be burning your denim jeans through as she touches your thigh. “You could have done the worst thing imaginable and I still would have. I’ve never had, uh, reason with you I guess. Love doesn’t know scorn, like a child with a knife, even if you can get hurt — sometimes it’s worth it.”

The stars in her blue eyes hold the same light in them, too full of love, her older and refined spirit lays beneath them and she has become someone you have even more love for. It’s too damning. Abigail Anderson has always been more than you can handle, always outshining everyone in this small town even if she couldn’t see it for herself.

“I’m surprised you came back for them, you know, after everything.”

It’s not just them.

“They say she doesn’t have a lot of time, so—” You sigh heavily into your palms, “And that’s not your problem, but thank you for being so cool about everything. Maybe we can be friends?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Abby knows neither of you can’t. It’s never worked out that way. It’s all or nothing and she’s always been the all-in type of girl. She loves big, not caring if her own heart gets trampled in the process.

Her love blinds like the sun, but it settles over your heart like the moonlight kissing the waves — you just hope the tide is strong enough to bring you home.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ❞

The first few weeks back at home felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as you disdained being home, the cracks of your family nearly breaking you in the process, you had her.

Even if you didn’t really have her.

The definite silence was not so, Abby still soaked in her warm heart, the one you hoped she kept. The best part of her. She’s too kind, even when you don’t deserve it, she still freely gives it.

It bleeds into her work.

Clearly, your father was more than fond of her. Several occasions they would be chumming it up, your father even grilling a few patty hamburgers up for them both when the clock struck noon. They always did love her, possibly even more than you, but to say they were devastated about the break would be a tragic understatement.

Get her back.

She’s a prize in this town.

Abigail Anderson is the best you can do, you’re not doing better than Dr. Anderson’s daughter.

But you never did try. You trusted the universe as a sign given. The people driving you out of this town sided with the woman you had broken up with, so you left and didn’t look back twice.

Yet, she did, in more ways than you were even aware of.

Because of her stupidly built physique, you couldn’t stop looking.

Anchored into the heat, her muscles constrict as she helps the crew demo the tile of the master suite, the last touch of the renovation needs. Besides the final paint job in the guest house, Abby had finished it all. In all honesty, Abby was hoping all of it would be complete by the time you arrived back in town. Being around you on a daily basis, her friends telling her it’s only a matter of time before she’s back in your arms, it feels like a slap in the face.

As if she has no self restraint.

To be fair, she doesn’t.

Abby’s gone to lunch with you three times, had coffee with you once, and she exhibits her obsessive memory — still having your order memorized — even if it's the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard of. She still finds herself stuck between your teeth like cotton candy.

It’s all friendly, supposedly, but it’s the easiest thing to slip back.

Old habits do die hard.

Right now, you’re just watching her work.

You’ve been doing it a lot lately.

Out of habit, nervousness, maybe it’s the anxiety flooding through your bloodstream. All of this feels erasable. Too much thrown at you, with her, it always happens to be too irreplaceable.

The ghost you’ve been running from, the one that hides in the shadow, even if you’ve tried to stay on the path you’ve created. Dug from the ashes of all your failures, she’s the one thing you haven’t made right. The nights where you got too drunk, nearly texting her or calling her, the picture you still curated in a specific folder, the one you would look for when you’re the weakest.

Being back in your hometown, the first person who ever truly loved you, it feels suffocating.

It doesn’t help that she looks so good. Or that she’s even kinder. The love in her eyes is even more whole-hearted than they were ten years ago. Part of you tells yourself you couldn’t even help yourself if you tried. This is just how it’s supposed to be. The heartbreaker pining for the woman’s heart you shattered into pieces.

All it took, a few cups of coffee and Abby taking you to lunch and paying — it feels awfully like a date but you keep your mouth shut. Her being present in your life is already confusing enough; the added weight would just be unbearable.

But after today, you won’t see her again. Painting the final room in the guest house is the last duty she has to fulfill and the renovation is done on your parent’s property. The ache in the pit of your stomach is unsettling as you attempt to simmer through and wonder why the pain becomes so deep. As if the woman in front of you was scorning you alive.

“You need something or are you gonna stare at me all day?”

You watch Abby throw the paint roller back in the tray, running the brush in the sage green, before turning the attention back to the wall, waiting for you to respond.

“No, I wasn’t staring.” Abby chuckles at that.

Chuckles.

“Yeah, sure.”

If you could see her pouty lips, you’re sure that they’d be pulled into a smirk. Lately, she’s been enjoying this too much. Catching you staring at her for too long, biting the precious bottom lip of yours as she’s putting her muscles to work or when you caught her peeling the sweaty tank of her body for a new one, every inch of her skin glowing in the wake of the blistering sun.

Her abdomen, toned with a not so subtle four pack, her v-line defined as it disappears into her jeans. It’s sickening. Really. It is. She catches your self control slipping through the cracks, dignity along with it as you give in to her adonis-like physique.

The shock going through your body, going completely still as Abby just chuckles, winking at you before she goes about her day. Like it was nothing, like this is a normal occurrence for her. You’re not sure what thought made you feel even more sick.

Women fawning over her or what happened after.

But you didn’t have a right, you know you didn’t.

You swallowed the unflattering buzz of sweeping jealousy until you couldn’t feel in anymore. It’s not an emotion you even deserve to feel. While the two of you had been getting closer the longer you spent with each other, you knew your boundaries well enough to know you still weren’t there, you never would be.

The ghosts from your past made damn sure of it.

“I can pose for you if you’re going to keep looking.”

“I wasn’t—”

Abby wipes the mixture of sweat, oils, and paint on the pair of old blue-denim. She lets her blonde hair out of the bun she wore, despite the icy temperature, her body runs warm.

“It’s okay to admit it.”

“Admit what?” Suddenly you become defensive, arms crossing over your chest.

“That you’re still attracted to me.” Abby takes your curves in and nearly blows a low whistle, “You’re awful at hiding it.”

“I-I’m not, this isn’t….you’re not, like, easy to look at, you know? Uh, ummm….”

Standing there like an idiot as you struggle to get the words out, nearly impossible to get them released, your mouth staggering, unable to even keep them shut as Abby stalks you, your body pressed against the kitchen counter, the new one she installed days ago.

Nothing comes out on the way you intend it to. Fuck. Did you offend her?

“I’m not?”

She whispers into your ear, her lips ghosting your skin. A free hand plays with the buckle of your belt before she pulls you closer by the fastened leather. It’s soft to the touch, making her want to sink her teeth into you, until her canines break the surface of your skin, claiming you as hers once again.

Abby thinks about removing it off you, bending you over the counter and punishing you for it or even fastening the belt around your neck, pulling you along until you’re right where she pleases. The craving in the pit of her belly only stirs into an unmanageable peace the longer you stand there — squirming with satisfaction — waiting to be put out of your misery.

Golden locks tickle your jaw, the static energy radiating off of her shocks your skin, goosebumps come alive on every inch of you as she makes her presence known. One fact you haven’t been able to shake, Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with. Ten years, ten full years, and your life means nothing now that she’s right in front of you.

“Abigail, I don’t really think this is a good idea.” Abby waits for you to push her away, but instead you place your hands around her forearms but she’s so big, and it’s intoxicating that she stands taller than you. Her biceps the size of your head, veins protruding as she flexes, as if it didn’t make matters worse.

“Then why don’t you just admit it?” Abby presses her pelvis even closer to yours and you wonder if you’re hallucinating the barely-there kiss to below your ear. “You want me just as much as you did back then. Ten years apart won’t change that. You still care about me, even though you wish you didn’t, you do.”

“Abigail, we can’t go there, we both are—”

“What? I’ve always been a patient girl. I can wait.” Loudly, you groan as she peppers kisses down your neck, before scratching at her skin, when she kisses the one spot behind your ear she certainly didn’t forget about.

Abby digs her teeth in as you hiss, she enjoys the thrill of your soft whimpers, she’s barely started and you’re giving her just what she needs. The two of you know it, there isn’t a fix for this, the thread of a craving pulls until it’s fed.

“Oh–”

Rough hands hoist you on the counter top as she slots herself between your thighs, her frame protecting you as if you were a wild animal trying to be saved from extinction. The greed in Abby’s palm finds salvation when she touches exposed skin, silk to the touch — it doesn’t feel quite as sinful as she’s been told.

She should hate you, right?

You hurt her, didn’t look back twice, and you’ve never been the same.

All of this is just a facade. The life you have, the future you always dreamed of building is thousands of miles from here and she just doesn’t fit within it anymore, everyone tells her she never did. A missing puzzle piece with a jagged edge, the more Abby tries to fit with your world, the further she pushes away.

But she held onto the hope that your world no longer fit you and maybe — like a fool who believes in their first dream — she could be your world again.

Sparkling, honey-blues dazzle their way into your heart once again, reminding you of everything you love, striking a reminder through your soul of just what you had hurt. The life you stole, the one you wanted to so desperately have but fear still swarms you. The memory doesn’t feel so distant, the past isn’t the past but lies as a reminder of the blood still staining your hands.

With hesitance, you hold her full-freckled cheeks in your palms with a delicate hand, fearful any touch from you would burn her in the process.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” You bite into the isolating air, threatening to swarm your soul but she finds you first. Abby’s warm breath feeds into the need blossoming like a seed rooted in soil, solidifying the growth of budding salvation.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

She’s so sweet on you, even as the trickle of poison burns her, Abby would gladly let it absorb every inch of her skin if it meant this. The wondrous arrival of a love once lost, her heart torn right down the middle. Unsure if giving into reason or a festered dream.

It all grabs a hold of her the same, unwillingly to release her from the pure agony she feels when you’re not around. More dramatic than she intended it to be, the dagger once pushed through her heart, exerting every drop of blood until she felt unsatisfied iron saturating her tongue.

She would even show gratitude if you let her.

“Everything I think I know changes when you’re involved, so no, I don’t.”

Leaning into your touch, Abby swears into the palm of your hand, her hands smooth over the fabric of your pants and your entire skin leaves a trail of fire anywhere her large, calloused hand scorns you. The weight of her love feels heavy, as it always has, but the temptation to carry every ounce of it is heavier than it’s been in years.

With a terror in your chest, you blurt out the first thought entering you mind. “You’ve aged really well, can barely tell you’re hitting thirty.”

“Oh yeah? I can think of a few ways to show you.”

Shit.

A rapid heartbeat ready to burst, you’re not sure if it’s you or her. She’s inching closer, lips ghosting yours, her minty-ice breath makes home over yours. With a slight graze, you inhale a sharp breath, read for her to lean into you.

Slam!

“Am I interrupting something?” Immediately, you push Abby off of you, a judging pair of eyes scanning the two of you.

The woman from the party looked like she could actually kill you with her bare hands. Then there’s Ellie sitting there grinning like the joker, one giggle away from sounding like the maniac himself. As if she was fully aware this would happen. The two of you are running off of pure animal instinct, unable to keep your hands off one another.

“Abby? What’s going on?” The snip in the woman’s voice is evident, so is the possession she so clearly feels over your ex-girlfriend. The jealousy you feel over the thought sends an unwanted shiver up your spine.

Then she’s looking at you, expecting you to disintegrate into nothing right in front of her. Like you had done something terribly wrong.

Didn’t Abby say she’s single?

“Chill out, Hazel.” Ellie rolls her eyes, smirking at the steam practically boiling out of Hazel’s ears. “Ready for that drink? Dina and Jesse are already waiting.”

“Uh—” She looks back at you, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Yeah, can you just give me a sec?”

“But I really think we should—”

“Down Hazel, god, you’re worse than a dog. They clearly were about to suck each other’s faces off. Move it.”

Hazel clearly looks offended as she desperately looks at Abby, hoping for her to save a little bit of dignity but Abby just punches the bridge of her nose as Ellie escorts out an extremely frigid Hazel.

Abby doesn’t miss the way the woman who has far too big of a crush on her tries to shoot daggers into you but you’re too busy focused on plucking your overgrown cuticles.

As soon as the door shuts you bend over the counter, forehead pressed into the white marble of the island, settling for a frustrated groan even when you want to scream.

“That bad, huh?” Abby stands behind you, watching as you lose it in front of her.

“Your friends already hate me, was that really fucking needed?”

There’s an itching, envious need to ask why Hazel seems to be protective over Abby, borderlining on obsession, but you keep your mouth tight lipped. Even if it’s the first thing ready to roll off your tongue.

“They’re fine, Hazel is just—”

“Protective.” You avoid her as she smirks, clearly enjoying the clear look of jealousy in your beautifully bright eyes.

“Oh?” Abby is grinning, pearly whites shining as majestic as the moon. “I didn’t think you’d even feel like that about me.”

As if it's instinct, she can’t stop how much she’s loving this. One moment of her lips on your skin and suddenly you want her all to yourself. Your head is spinning and her stupid, blue eyes won’t stop looking at you like a divine treasure.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

You never did well with things out of your control, never really could. It’s why all of it ended the way it did. If you couldn’t somehow manipulate into what you wanted, it faded until you couldn’t hear it any longer. Abby faded into the noise, into your past, but maybe she is the noise and for the first time in ten years you can finally hear.

“You don’t have to say anything but you can come with me.”

“With your friends?” Abby nods.

“All of your friends hate me and one looks like she might actually kill me. Why on earth would you think that’s a good idea?”

“All of them are adults. They’ll handle just fine besides, I want you there.” As soon as Abby says those words, your harsh seamer softens, rejection melts and dissipates from your vocabulary. She’s always been a difficult person to say no to. “You could use some social interaction, you don’t even leave this guest house.”

“How did you know that?”

“I have eyes?” Abby states it as more of a question, a giggle threatening to bubble out.

“Oh god.” Abby laughs as she takes off her tool belt before finding her jacket and slipping it on her body. Grabbing her keys on the counter, looping the carabiner on the loop of her weathered denim.

“Ready?”

There’s a look of uncertainty in your eyes, nearly bleeding into an unwillingness to bend, but her words reassure you before you even get a chance to explain. As if she settled in your heart ten years ago and never left.

“Don’t worry, okay? If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll set them straight, Cherry.”

The nickname falls off her tongue, the sentiment hits you like a tsunami of emotion, bringing you back to every loving emotion she exposed to you for the first time.

It shouldn’t cut you this deep but it will — she always will.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 ❞

March 26th, 2013

“C’mon dance with me!” Abby screams over the loud music of the party. Fluorescent lights, a disco ball and tequila raged through her body, the alcohol pumping through her veins as she finally mustered the liquid courage to talk with the girl she’s been crushing on all sophomore year.

Her friends had been teasing her all night about it, but when the girl looked at her in disgust, shoulder checking her into oblivion, she couldn't help but take it to heart. Her blue eyes swell with tears, a waterfall raging within her as she makes her way to the bathroom, puking out her dinner at her father’s house.

So much for prom night, right?

Making a beeline for the bathroom, with yet another rejection to check off the list, stupid fucking after party she lied to her dad about going to. It’s all so stupid, of course Lacey wouldn’t be into someone like her. No one likes her, no one ever will, she’s just the lame screw up in this town who can’t like boys, not when the rest of the girls in the wretched town do.

Even if her dad tells her, it’s what makes her special — it’s a bunch of horse shit.

So, in the home of the girl she confessed her undying love for, she pukes her guts out in the bathroom until there’s a knock at the door and a soft yet concerned shout that follows. “Hey, are you okay? Sounds a little rough in there!”

“Shit, yeah, just one second…” Abby collects herself taking off her jacket as she rolls up the sleeves, residue of what she chucked up on the cuff of her shirt. Quickly, she rinses off and roles the sleeves up.

Well, it didn’t get any more embarrassing than this.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can get someone it’s really not a pro—”

Without a further beat, the door is swung open. Abby suspects to see someone she knows, but she doesn’t. It’s a fresh face and she’s never been more grateful. The eyeliner she thought Lacey would like was probably smudged all over her face, Abby had no doubt she probably resembled someone operating an oil rig of some kind.

Just as Abby tries to talk, she feels another round come up and she runs to the toilet, sinking to her knees as more bile comes out. Way to go Anderson, you’ve managed to utterly humiliate yourself in front of two beautiful women tonight. Truly, there should be some type of an award for being the dumbest idiot on the planet.

Somehow, she knows all of this will come back to bite her in the ass. There’s no way that she isn't the complete laughing stock of the high school until she walks across the stage in two years with a diploma on hand. Whoever you are, you’re sure you’ll tell the entire town.

A stupid pathetic lesbian who can’t have one good night to save her life.

One of the most important nights of her life.

But she doesn’t hear a mockery laugh, a snide comment…she isn't even met with pure disgust. The third and fatal option. There’s a comforting hand on her back, reassuring her everything will be just fine, the other holding her hair into a makeshift ponytail, ensuring there isn't a single strand getting tied into the mess of her sickness.

By the time Abby’s done, she feels even more humiliated, her body running hot, cheeks aflame but you’re already running warm water underneath the towel folded on the shelf above the toilet. Kneeling down again, you angle her by the jaw, wiping the residue off her lips and you carefully wash away the black eyeliner smeared all over her freckled-cheeks.

For a second, Abby notices you staring at her pouty lips but she doesn’t say a word about it.

Turned out so wonderful the first time…

“Here!” You pull from your pocket, a pack of red labeled gun, cherry flavored, and pull out one piece wrapped in paper-tin foil. “For your, you know, breath.”

“Is this your nice way of telling me I have bad breath?” Abby teases, one moment with a pretty stranger, and she already felt more like herself. Abby takes a piece of gum, unraveling the piece before shoving the strip into her mouth.

“Well, you did puke.”

Regretfully she chews as the taste turns sweet instead of mint, her face contorts in rejection but still she chews. It’s not exactly what she had in mind.

“You don’t like Cherry flavored? That’s just bad taste!” You grab a piece of gum for yourself, throwing the piece of paper in the trash, consuming it wholeheartedly, almost moaning as you put on a show.

“Whatever you say, Cherry.” The sun might as well be shining on you from just how warm you feel. Heat rising in your heart, blossoming through your chest, thriving from the attention of the sun,

“Hey! That’s not fair. I don’t know your name.”

“Well, I don’t know yours either…” Abby hints, tilting her head to the side with a smirk the size of Texas. For once, she finds this easy, talking to a pretty girl, flirting with a pretty girl — proving it didn’t always have to be so hard to have something this good.

“Call me Cherry, it’s better than my real one, trust me.” You smile sweetly, fully willing to rot each tooth if it means you could feel like this. “What’s yours?”

“Abigail.”

The two of you just stare at each other like idiots, two losers, two outcasts and all of it started to make sense. Every heartache dealt out by careless handlers of the heart, each person who made you feel small, unworthy, who knew all of it could be healed by looking into the brightest pair of blue eyes, the warmest, full of honey and marvelous wonder.

It feels wonderful, being this close to a feeling, a lover's dream in the sunshine of spring, kissing shoulders never exposed to the brightful joy, freckles sprouting like bees flees to honey. One more kiss of sunshine until the sweetness falls on your tongue, guiding you to the spirit of love and everything you ever lost.

One person, one perfect person who makes your youth scream of joy again. Jumping off a cliff, plummeting into the cool ocean without second thought, hoping they’ll be there to jump off it with you. Even if it takes a lifetime of waiting — you’d wait your entire life for her.

As long as she’s in the sun, freckles being painted by pure light, you’d soak in the sun right along with her.

“Thank you.” She squeaks out the words so small, you nearly miss it.

“There’s no need for thanking. Just doing the right thing s’all.” Your smile is so sweet, Abby nearly feels every part of her body rotting with sugar. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There was just this girl and I really thought she liked me but she really didn’t and I have this thing where I get a lot of anxiety or nervous I kind of just puke. It’s totally lame, god, I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

“Me too. High school sucks.” You agree with her, offering a small smile as you finish cleaning her up. “But she’s totally lame for not seeing how great you are.”

Abby tries not to blush, but she can’t hit the crimson swell painting the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Did you try to kiss her or something?”

“I didn’t really get that far, she wouldn’t even dance with me. Not here, not prom, guess I’m not cool enough for her.” Pushing the metal frame of her glasses up her nose, trying to stop herself from biting into her blunt nails, nearly drawing blood. Now that she’s come down from her puking fest, she sees how beautiful you are. The kind of beauty that would bring her to her knees if Abby wasn’t already there.

“Cool is overrated. Who cares about being cool? We’re all losers trying to figure it out.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, as if you’re confident in exactly who you want to be. Abby is envious of it. She wonders what it’s like to be so free — to not wonder what everyone is constantly thinking about you — if you’re good enough.

You don’t seem to care.

“If you still wanna dance, I’d dance with you. We can be losers together.” You offer up to her as you stand to your feet, offering a hand up to her and she takes it willingly. You grab the jacket to her suit, helping her slip into it and she smoothes the jacket over her frame.

“You really don’t have to—” But you look at her with the most absurd gaze of refusal, eyebrows furrowed as it makes this cute little line between them. Abby can’t help but admire it.

“Oh, we’re going to fucking dance and show whoever this bitch is just what she’s missing.”

Present day.

There’s a lot to be said for how you let yourself succumb to her again, it didn’t take much, just a batting of blonde eyelashes and irresistible pouty lips and you’d fallen victim to Abigail Anderson. The hardest thing you’ve ever done was leave her. All these years later, you’re right back to where you were before all of this had started.

It seems to shock all of her friends when the two of you walk on together and even more shocking when Abby throws her arm behind you, engaging in conversation here and there. Mostly, you tune out the conversation and mindlessly sip on the beer in front of you.

Hazel isn’t happy about the predicament, cold brown eyes sport a simmering guidance of rage as she watches Abby’s fingers on your shoulder tracing random patterns into your skin. The arrival of your presence in turn makes her take jabs at you all night. Even with your silence, it doesn’t stop her, and when you have no visceral reaction she finally goes for something that brings silence around the entire table.

“Why are you even here? Breaking Abby’s heart wasn’t enough the first time? Why don’t you run back to your sick mother and stop playing with people just because it’s fun for you.” Hazel bites and you feel the swarm of your tears begin to build and she keeps going, “Isn’t that why you came back? Not because you actually care but because your mom is going to die.”

“Sorry, excuse me—” Hazel scoffs as you slither away and head towards the bathroom. As if she’s accomplished, she sips on her margarita, like what she just did was a service to everyone here.

Ellie and Dina sit there in shock, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Jesse sits there silently, discomfort written all over his face. But Abby? She’s filled with a soaring hot rage, face flushed violet as her knuckles turn white. Hazel immediately shrinks into the booth, unprepared for what’s about to happen.

She thought Abby would be happy, kicking someone who so wrongly hurt her to the curb. You didn’t deserve her. You never would. Hazel deserves you. She’s been here, waiting for Abby to see her and love her, not you.

“What the fuck is your problem? Cherry wasn’t even doing a goddamn thing and you’ve been attacking them all damn night.” Abby’s rage is palpable, steaming to the touch, and nothing like any of them have ever seen.

“I did this for you! She treated you horribly! She broke your heart! She deserves it.”

Abby pinches the bridge of her nose, tossing her head against the wall, “This has got to fucking stop. Cherry broke up with me goddamn ten years ago and it’s none of your business.” Hazel could practically see the steam rolling off her before Abby raised her voice even more, “You didn’t have a right to bring up her mom regardless of whatever happened. Jesus, if I want to be around her or want Cherry around, everyone here is just going to have to fucking deal.”

“Abby, we’re just trying to look out for you. Cherry only ever thinks about herself.”

“Well fucking don’t. I can handle myself despite whatever you think I can deal with. Stay the fuck away from her or you’ll live to regret it.”

Throwing a twenty on the table to cover her tab, she finds you washing your face, trying to get rid of the puffiness in your eyes. When you see her, you turn her away, a lame attempt to stop her from seeing you like this.

Weak. Overbearing. A winded rush pressing on your lungs, struggling to breathe — you didn’t need any of this. Not to be back right where it all destroyed you. Then here she is, the living reminder of your transgressions, your failure, the one thing you couldn’t fix.

All roads lead to her. All of it is sick and twisted. The look of love pierces through your soul, scouring through the place you keep hidden under lock and key; the part that still loves her.

It demands attention. To be heard. To be seen. To violate you and your dreams, to place her before everything else. A violent reminder of how all of this started. Before you could catch up with the tide, everything flips, your entire life becomes a reflection of what you feared.

Abby has her life together and yours is coming apart.

Everyone hates you for what you become. For how little you cared about leaving the first twenty years of your life behind, a chapter closed and discarded as if it never existed to you in the first place.

“Let me take you home, alright? I’m sorry for Hazel she’s—”

“It’s fine.” You cut her off, drying your eyes, or trying to but you can’t stop crying in the first place. “It was stupid of me to agree to this.”

“You aren’t stupid, sorry, she was being a cunt. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen.”

Abby carefully wipes your tears away, “Hey, let’s get out of here. Yeah? My place is just up the street. Just the two of us.”

You nod as Abby leads you out, her palm feels welcoming in your grip, a homecoming you have been dying to feel. Her touch feels warm, perfect as her fingers interlock with your own. Like no time has passed, it’s easy for you to slip back into her grasp.

Everything about her feels right. When she helps you get in her truck, the old one her father always wanted to renovate and it seems she did just that. The ride is only a couple minutes before she’s parking in the garage of her home. She opens the door for you, a hand on your back as she leads you towards the door leading into her house.

What you expect to be a farmhouse, a hint of southern barn meets boho chic, but you’re met with something else entirely.

It’s exactly what she talked about building growing up. Everything else feels modern except the cherry red kitchen with white accents and marble countertops. There’s cherries everywhere, but it’s subtle enough to the naked eye, you wouldn’t blink twice.

The memory comes back to you in a hot flash, one you weren’t fond of.

“We can have it all. I’ll buy you a damn house, I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need, I want this, Cherry. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I love you, please, can’t you see a future with both of us?”

“But I don’t want to be here. You know that! My dad can hardly look at me because I’m with a woman, my mom tries but she doesn’t understand. Is this the kind of life you want? They remind me that I’m not good enough. Who I love isn’t good enough, not if I’m not with a man. Can you understand I’m dying to get out of this nothin’ town?”

Abby gnaws at her bottom lip, teeth drawing blood as she sees you drawing within yourself. Pulling back at the first sign of hardship. Even Abby wonders if she’s worth fighting for.

“You mean dying to get away from me? I’m in this nothin’ town you despise so much.”

“Abigail, you’re taking words out of my mouth, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“You just want to leave and I don’t.” You look at her, her adorable pout in a frown, arms she’s been bulking for the past couple years begin to show definition. The freckles she hates grew more prominent on her skin as she spent the summer working for father’s construction company.

Her life is here, her future is here, but for once since the two of you met, your own two different paths and no matter how much you love her — it just won’t work.

“We’re eighteen! Our entire lives are in front of us. I can’t stay here, Abigail. I just can’t. I dream of a big city, somewhere my stories will take me places, a life that I can’t find here.”

“You got the scholarship, didn’t you?” Abby barks, her chest puffing out, jaw clenching as she pleads for you to tell her the truth. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been lying to me, hoping I’d change my mind?”

“I wasn’t lying. I just—”

“What? You were just going to leave one morning and never come back? Like I mean nothing to you?” Abby removes her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Like the past two years have just been what? A way for you to pass time until your real life comes along. Fucking great.”

“I told you from the start, I want more. I need to do more! No one gets into NYU around here and certainly not on a scholarship. I have a chance for a real future, a way out from my parents, a new life, I’ve always wanted this. You know I have.”

“And I’ve always wanted you.”

Silence engulfs the room, a pindrop could be heard, the tension could be cut with a knife but Abby sees the wall closing around you. Covering her from the heart you slowly opened up to her, what she fought tooth and nail for. She always fought for you but it’s hard to do anything when you don’t believe this is worth saving.

“You don’t even have the decency to ask me.”

“What?”

“You just want to write me off. You lump me with everyone else because you don’t even give me the chance.”

“What are you saying?”

Abby’s blue eyes turn into ice, all the warmth void as the chill sends a shiver down your spine. Her throat feels tight, like even if she swallows her own spit she’ll choke.

“Do you love me enough to make this work?” Abby flinches when you don’t immediately answer, because she knows where she stands, she would follow you across the world if it meant that’s what you wanted. To make you happy. But she can’t help but feel like she’s splitting herself apart for someone who doesn’t care in the way she does.

With tears in your eyes, they cascade down your cheek before whispering to her, “I don’t.”

“Get. Out.” She murmurs through clenched teeth, using the sleeve of her t-shirt, one you gifted her, to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The overflow of the heartache racked through her body like she’s never felt before.

You don’t love her. You don’t love her. You never loved her.

“Abs, please, don’t make me leave like this. Can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to fucking talk about? We don’t love me, Cherry. What else is there to fucking say?”

You nearly scream, not sure why anything you’re saying isn’t coming out the way you intended it to. “You’re not listening to me I—”

“Right. You just need to find a man, right? God, you’re just like Lacey.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You bite, and if looks could kill, Abby would be dead right now. She’s struck a nerve, the memory of sophomore year comes flooding back to her, back when all of this started. “God, fuck you. How could you possible compare me to the straight girl that pulled you along because what she really wanted was Daniel Collins to fuck her so stupid she ended up pregnant junior year.”

“You’re leaving, when your back is pressed up against a wall, you’ll always leave, Cherry.”

“But I—” You stop yourself before you could speak the forbidden words, the ones you’ve said to her a million times, the one you just refuted that you did even if she can usually call you right on your bullshit. But you’ve diluted her sense of reasoning and all she hears is her girlfriend of two years just told her she doesn't love her.

“You what? What other lies are you going to tell me?”

“Fine.” Your expression turns stone cold, “Let’s both be done with it then. There’s nothing left to fight for.”

Prideful ego gets in the way of what Abby wants and she finally lets her head speak for her, “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you alright?” Abby asks but then she notices you’re just staring at her kitchen and she’s never been so self-conscious in her life. She didn’t even think about it, she’s so used to others seeing it but it’s different when your muse is taking in the craft you created with them in mind.

“Oh, right, the cherries.” She stutters out, scratching the back of her neck as she turns the lights on. It smells of vanilla and something oak, just like she smelled in high school. To others it may seem boring but it’s refreshing to know she’s still the same as she was.

“You still did it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda lame honestly, maybe I should have done something else but nothing ever fit right with the rest of the house so.” Abby pops open a beer, somehow needing to have some type of liquor while you gawk at the work she created with you in mind. “If I’m being honest, I think it was just a way for me to hold onto you. I sure didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Me neither.” You answered truthfully, the loss of Abby rattled you, even though you were better at hiding it. Losing her is still the most painful loss you had to endure, which she considers fortunate, but not fortunate enough. “I always thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t been so headstrong. I think I had to convince myself in order to leave, I would have stayed here for you if not.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Even if she pretends not to be, Abby’s still bitter.

“Why?”

“You always knew what you wanted out of life and that wasn’t me.” Abby chews on her bottom lip again, picking the label of the beer before taking another swig. “Hell, you left before I even got a chance to say goodbye.”

“What?” Eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you take a step forward, “Did you come to the house?”

“Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave things like that. Did you not—”

“No, I didn’t know, I thought that was it. I didn’t expect there to be more for my sake.”

The way she looks at you feels like she’s peering into her soul, the way she sees you so clearly, better than anyone ever has, chilling you to your core. Bits and pieces of your love located in eyes that glimmer only for her, light electrified the moment your sights are set on her.

It feels like falling in love with a broken melody.

You admire the imperfections instead of leaving at the bridge.

“I waited on your porch for hours but then your parents came home, saying they just had gotten back from dropping you off.”

In a matter of moments, your entire world feels flipped, like everything you had known for the last ten years, a terrible lie you wished to never know. A nightmare you would hope to wake up from. That’s all this was, you would wake up in her father’s home as you fought in the kitchen, you convince yourself not to let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“You came back for me?”

Closing the space between the two of you, grabbing her beer and placing it on the countertop. Abby takes an intake of breath as you invade every part of her personal space. As corny as it sounds, you do smell of cherries. So sweet, her bones feel weak with need, as if she doesn’t inhale the sugar she’ll just crumble at your feet, begging for just one drop.

“Yeah, I cried in front of your dad who hated me at the time, might I add. After that, he was kind, I think because he saw how much I…you know…”

You remember how much he changed when you came home for the holidays three years later. Naturally, you always accepted he had just come around over time, but it wasn’t that at all — the weeps of your high school girlfriend convinced him.

“Guess he saw how much I loved you or something…I don’t know…” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Like she's nothing; the careless lie you let her believe.

Even with her dominating physical presence, she’s always been shy about this sort of thing. Expressing her feelings never really came easy, even if she wore them with her heart on her sleeve, admitting them was different than feeling them.

“You changed his mind.”

“He would have gotten there eventually. I’m sure he liked whoever you dated after me.”

“Hm.” You grimly laugh, “He didn’t. Not the two I brought home but he always spoke fondly of you, he definitely likes you better then he enjoys his own kid.”

Patient she is watching you process the information, it’s almost too much for her to swallow. What if you had been home when she was going to say goodbye? Would this be your home with her? The dreams of kissing her in the kitchen, cherry inspired, the family home she always wanted to build for the two of you. Now she’s here with no one but herself. Withering away the soul of a woman who only wanted love.

“He loves you and if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. Trust me, I know it too well.”

The confession hangs on the walls like a memorial, taking a trip down memory lane, or more like the hell of your own making. Demons you conjured cast over your past as if they only exist in hollow halls. The deeper you go, the more your heart slivers in the cracks of her delicate grip. For the first time, you don’t mind when she presses on your heartbeat — demanding more with just looking at you the way she does.

The way she always has.

“Do you still love me?”

“Are you going to run away if I tell you?”

Lips ghost over you, her breath hits your face, making it flush with heat. She leans against the counter, wrapping your back with one of her arms, tugging you close to her.

“Abby, I’m a mess.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what my family is going to look like or my future.”

“I know.”

“Abigail, would you stop saying that?”

“I’ve only ever cared about you, I don’t care if your life is together. I’m here and I—” She dips her head to kiss down your neck, decorating your collarbones with her lips as she creates a map back to where she wants to the most, “will take care of you.”

Abby kisses you like the air in her lungs is expendable, as she has endless amounts to give. That’s all she is love, pouring into every ounce of you that she can find. With desperate abandon, she wants to wipe your memory of every wrong she ever did you — she only wants to remind you of the reason why she loves you. Maybe it’ll be enough for you to wake up in her arms again.

For once, she might be enough.

“We don’t have to do this, I don’t know what it all means and—”

“Right now? I don’t fucking care.” Abby leeches off your neck, kissing and delicately sucking, grazing her sharp teeth against sensitive skin. “I just want you.”

Thoughtless abandon goes out the window as she guides you back into her apartment, off the spacious balcony and corners you into her room. Letting you fall on her bed as she stands above you, as she strips in front of you. Making a show of it, torturing you for sport, before she goes in for the kill.

The alcohol still alive in your mind as she pulls off, a freckled maze maps its way all over her body. The subtle blonde happy trails travels underneath her navel and disappears beneath the fabric of her denim jeans. Your own self-control begins to slip, but Abby is too concerned with evening out the playing field. Even if this is a long-lasting goodbye, she’s going to make it last.

Slipping your trousers down your legs, she’s met with cotton boxers — soaked all the way through.

“Is that all for me?” Abby snaps the waistband against your skin as you squirm underneath your touch, bucking your hips into the air. Impossibly desperate for her touch.

“Y-Yes, It’s for—” Irrevocably your eyes roll back into your skull, “Abigail, oh shit, shit, shitttt.”

Sneaking a hand in your boxers, she opens up your inviting folds, slippery and as Abby glides along, collecting your slick with the calloused fingers. You squirm and shift, bucking into her hand, waiting for more to be given to you.

“Just say my name like that pretty girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” Abby removes her hand as she pulls your boxers off your legs and without being asked she slides them down your legs as she pushes your shirt up to your tits, exposing the swell of your breasts to her possessive eyes, waiting to lay claim onto what she’s missed for the past ten years.

“I wonder if you’re just as…” Abby takes a beat before rubbing over your hard nipple along her tongue, her denim-glad thigh grinding against your thigh as she suckles at your breasts. “Sensitive.”

She moans into your skin, using her free hand to play with your pussy, soft strokes to your clit as she elicits more moans from you. The force of her strength and weight keeps you down, the stutter of your hips chasing her fingers.

“My pretty baby, not so mean and bossy anymore, huh?” She bites your nipple gently before whispering in your ear, “Did you miss me that much?”

“I just want more, please.”

In any other circumstance, she happily would make you pay for it. Wait even, but if she doesn’t have you in her mouth for another second, she won’t survive. You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect in every conceivable way. The years had in fact been kind to you, different from what she knew when the two of you had sex but god, she thinks you’re even more exquisite now.

“More?” Abby removes what remains of her clothing, leaving you to gawk at her muscled frame, small tits frame her chest perfectly. “How about you sit on my face, angel? How does that sound?”

She’s already made you come twice, just on her tongue alone, pushing for a third as she holds you by the waist, waiting for your overstimulated body to give into her once more.

Abby makes everyone look inadequate when it comes to her, no one could touch you like this, fuck you like this, slither their talent tongue inside your waiting hold as you take her out for a ride. Muffled moans against your dripping cunt sends shivers throughout your spine, body twitching as you feel yourself hurling closer to the edge.

You can’t help but ride her face as your head lies on the bundle of curves covering her mound and you’ve been too fucked out the entire time to do anything but you can’t help but notice the way her patient cunt is shining with her slick. Curiosity blooms within you as you notice the slight thrust of her hips, chasing a part of you that isn’t there.

With no sudden warning, you vigorously rub on her wet folds, applying pressure on her bundle of nerves as you spread her sweet juices along her puffed lips.

“Baby, nghhh, oh my god.” Abby slurps as she sucks your clit into her mouth before you fall right over the edge again. Her eager tongue fucks your through it with her tongue, letting your ride the high as your nails scratch her stomach, marking her as yours once again.

Abby helps your weak body slide down her legs, flipping you over as your pussy falls against her, her legs spread open as your head rests against her sternum, feeling the increased rate of her heart beat thump against her chest.

She smooths her hand over your hair, gorgeous hypnotic eyes pull at Abby’s heart. “We should get some sleep.”

“We can…unless you want to entertain a thought I’m having.” Abby raises her eyebrow as rotate your hips, clit bumping against hers as she throws her head back, a string of curses fall from her lips as she grips onto your hips. Happily, she lets you take control, pushing her strong leg over your shoulder as you glide against her soaked pussy.

“Oh fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit—”

Perfect tits bouncing as you rock your hips against her movement, the more you look in her eyes, you feel yourself yearning for another release. It’s never been this good, never with anyone. The moans she whispers, kept in the secret coven of your love, the spells she casts to keep you near — it trumps anything you’ve ever felt.

“Keep looking at me, Abigail.” The whine of her full name, only ever falling from your lips, the most wonderful symphony. It’s intoxicating how much she loves it. How much she loves you. Deep in her bones, even if she tries her best to pull away, she knows not a damn thing will ever compare to this. For this life and the next, she’ll be searching for you in everyone she meets.

She can’t live another moment with you. Not after ten years of agony, fuck no, she needs you like she needs oxygen to breathe. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you don’t forget how Abby looks at you with a tender heart that basically pours out of her.

“Baby, please. N-N-gh, I need you.” You push her forward, hitting a deeper angle than you were before until you hear just how wet she is with your forehead pressed against hers, “Show me how my pretty girl comes, yeah? Need a reminder, princess.”

Abby moans out your name, her body fucking up into you, slithering her convulsing cunt against your clit as her defined abdomen twitches and only relaxes when you follow her lead, you body collapsing on her. Two hearts beats become one as the two of you fall asleep, a quiet whisper of I love you, but you’re not sure if it falls from your lips or hers.

The morning air breathes lilies and fresh espresso, her sweet cinnamon cologne lingers in her sheets, where she held you all night with her heavenly embrace. Reality sinks in and then you’re afraid once again. You slip one of her button up shirts on, pulling on a pair of her sweats before your feet are met with the cool wooden floors.

She’s sitting there, those stupid glasses she apparently didn’t get rid of. Making her look stupid cute as she read the velvet-green covered book in her large palms.

It’s easy for her to tell how you feel, Abby knows you too well as she watches you with cautious eyes. You’re so afraid of it all. Always, you’ve been afraid of what she makes you feel, how close she pushes you to the edge of no return. A love you feel helpless to, especially when it eats you from the inside out.

“Do you wanna leave? I can take you home.” Abby doesn’t even look up from her book, she sounds annoyed, completely different than her vulnerable demeanor last night. It puzzles you when she closes herself off.

“Am I missing something? Did I do something wrong?”

Abby folds her book, marking the page on the sharp corner before she takes off her glasses. “You don’t owe me anything if that’s what you’re worried about. You felt like you didn’t before. You in all your city glory.”

Something happened.

“Abby, what’s going on?”

“You tell me.” She places your phone on the table and it’s the email detailing of your new book tour in Europe. One that lasts the better part of the year.

“You snooped through my phone?”

“I didn’t mean to, I thought it was mine, okay? I would never do that.” Abby sighs, “I really didn’t mean to fucking look. I just, it’s happening all over again, I’m losing you over something. I’m never what you pick and I can’t ever be enough for you. Even Hazel was right! All you do is hurt me and it’s my fault because I let you. I can’t keep chasing you. It’s a stupid dream I’m too dumb enough to let go of.”

“So, that’s it? Last night was just what? A mistake?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you did! Fuck, I should have known things wouldn’t change.”

“You should have known? This is the same reason why you left me. I’ll lose you, again, to something I can’t compete with. The both of us know it to be true. At least have the decency to admit it.”

“Do you want me to apologize? I did what I wanted! I have everything I wanted. This is everything I’ve worked towards for the best ten years—”

“But you don’t—” Abby puffs out her chest, standing taller than she has since you’ve been back. The words spill just like you did the night before, “You didn’t get everything, you made sure of it the moment you left me behind.”

Abby has backed you into a corner, stalking you like you’re her prey but this isn’t how she wants everything to be. Looking into your dreary eyes, she’s transported back to when you shattered her heart, splitting into pieces that no longer fit. The harder she tries to piece them back, the more jagged she becomes.

“I don’t want this. I’ve let go of it.”

I let go of you, sounds entirely too painful to say.

“That’s your plan? To pretend none of this has happened?” Abby’s tongue prods the inside of her cheek, a cocky smirk flashes your way. “Look at how well it turned out the first time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your arms cross over your chest, attempting to create some distance between the two of you, but Abby only closes you in.

“Why do you still wear it?”

“What are you talking about?”

Abby reaches for your hand, you untangle your limbs, the pad of her thumb loving running over the silky skin. Her calloused hand feels rough, just as it always has, but it also feels right.

The silver ring on your pinky, the one you lost and the one your father had conveniently found. But it was never him who located your perfect gem, nope. Not at all. Just Abby’s biggest fan, besides Hazel.

The reminder of her leaves a sour taste saturating your tongue, but you have no right. It's her friend, and just because you’re not fond of her, doesn’t mean a thing. You’re just a ghost still lingering in her life. Even if she answers there’s nothing, Hazel looks at her like you used to. When the same protectiveness switched into high gear last night, she only thought of how much you would do the exact same thing Hazel did if the roles were reversed.

Just maybe, not as cruel.

Abby takes the ring off your thumb, it shines in the dim lighting in the room.

“The day I fell in love with you, three months into our relationship, I gave it to you. Do you remember what I said?”

Simply, you nod.

“Wear this for as long as you love me and when you’ve taken it off, I’ll know we’re truly done.” Abby hums, your eyes shut as her thigh wedges between your legs but it only rests there. “But I hope you wear it forever.”

“Then let go of me, give it back, throw it away, but stop acting like you might still feel the same. I’m tired of being played. You know how much this ring means to me. Don’t leave me, again.”

It’s a cop out for what she really wants to say, the both of you know it is, but you have the decency to let it swarm past without making a single comment.

She’s begging for mercy. She’s tired. The lines on her skin are an indication of the hours she spends in the sun and the time passing by, engaging you in a never-ending tsunami of Abigail Anderson’s love.

“Abigail—” You say her name like it’s a curse, a spell you keep casting to make her fall deeper in your endless abyss. “Just because it seems like a good idea doesn’t mean it’ll work out. What makes this time any different?”

You slid away from her, needing to breathe, you can’t think when she’s too close. Serendipity finds home into honey blues, working its magic until she finds purchase in your heart once again. You’d let her get too close, more than you should let her allow.

Abby, the heart.

You, the head.

The dreamer. The thinker. Forever intertwined by the deadly kiss of fate.

“But if it did? What if we did?”

Abby doesn’t want to beg, but she is. She learned her lesson the first time. She said nothing all those years ago, letting you take the relationship the two of you had by the reigns, your cruelty being the fatal blow to what the two of you had worked so hard to build. Naivety crushed the future right in front of her — the one she regularly dreams of.

Each what if connected like constellations in the sky, each one just as bright as the next, Abby can’t make of which she wants. But Abby has always known it to be true, this has always been it for her but you’re so afraid.

Still petrified to be loved.

“I can’t let myself go through it again, if we didn’t? I can’t just—” You begin pacing, trying to get yourself into a position to clear your mind. The hope she has, it could kill you in your sleep. “I fucked up, okay? Last night shouldn’t have happened. I needed something and I used you. Is that what you want to hear? Will that satisfy you enough?”

“I want the goddamn fucking truth, Cherry. Stop with the lies. Tell me you want this to end because you don’t love me anymore, or that you want to go on this book tour, not because you fucked up. I don’t care if you fucked me because you needed your clit sucked for the night. Tell me the truth, Cherry, please.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Abby chuckles maliciously, “Why? You don’t like to remember when you were in love, the only time you ever were happy, the only time you ever let anyone get close to you?”

She attempts to get closer to you but you dodge her and walk to the other side of the room.

“You’re quite literally running away from me. Anything but facing the truth, right?” Abby sighs into her hands. The muscles in her body are exhausted, her heart is over spent, and her mind is filled with you. Even if she doesn’t want it to be. “Do you think I want this? To feel like this? To put my heart on the line when you clearly show that you’ll discard it every damn time? Do you think this is enjoyable for me?”

“Then stop! I’m not asking you to, just let me leave, let me go.”

“Let the ring go.” Somehow, in your heat of emotion, you grabbed it back from her and didn't realize it had been placed back on your thumb. “You know it was my mom’s, how could you so selfishly keep this?”

“What?”

Fuck. Abby runs her hands through her hair, gripping so tightly her sunkissed knuckles turn white from nearly being pulled from the root.

“But you said this was—”

“I lied! I was eighteen and scared shitless, okay? I didn’t want you to—”

“You didn't want me to….?”

Abby sighs rubbing her hand over her face, a habit she seemed to pick up in your presence. “If I tell you, you’re just going to run.”

You grimace, tearing up as you look at the ring, it means so much to her and all this time she was perfectly fine with thinking you got rid of it. Abby never so much as asked for it back. But everything feels more final with the ring in hand, the shining promise of something more. But the naivety of youth chilled her bones, made her believe that love like this comes and goes. It goes. And goes. And goes.

It never comes.

“Do you want it back?” You dodge whatever omission she was about to let fall. It’s what you do best. Avoiding the future — she’s always been ominous, constantly you’re scared to believe in the faith of her undying love. The forgiveness of her heart pours like an overflowing well. Abby teeters you along the line of grace you don’t quite deserve.

“No.” Abby sighs before she brings herself close to you. “I want you back, Cherry. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as you. When you left, everyone told me it’s just because you're my first love. Time heals all, right? But it doesn’t. Despite your best efforts, I’ll always love you. You’re—”

You take a step closer to her, “I’m what?”

“You’re the love of my life. If you walk at that door, it’ll take the rest of my life to fill the gap you leave. But if you don’t love me, then please, put me out of my misery and just leave.”

Abby looks down at the wood floors, tears collecting in her eyes as she expects you to walk out the front door, leaving her in the dust. But the slam of her front door never comes, instead you sink down on your knees resting your head on her knee, waiting for her to look down at you.

“What?” Abby grunts.

“There was this cute, really nerdy blonde girl, she puked on prom night, crying over some straight girl and somehow I managed to fall in love with her despite all odds but you know what the real kicker is?” You intertwined her hands with her, your head tilting to the side as your dreamily looked into sunny-blues, sticking to you like honey,

“I never, ever stopped.”

#so…..i heard the abby lovers were starving……i have a little treat #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x masc!reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #tlou x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fluff #❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 ❞

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tricoloreddango · 3 days ago

Note

I'm really nasty 😞 can I request more Mydei smut, maybe detailing how vocal he is and how he talks the reader through it. 😭 God forgive me.

You and I think alike, anon. Hopefully this fulfills your request. I was writing this on a train ride, but thankfully my space around was empty 😅

Cw: fem reader, marriage, Mydei bends you in half, sex on his throne, oral fem receiving, praise, size kink, possessiveness, semi public, Mydei talks you through it and can’t shut up. Not suitable for minors!

There was an odd, wild idea about Mydei today; even more than usual, when he was suddenly putting you down on his throne, just moments after you were calmly resting on his lap, your tunic being lifted up by your clearly eager husband. Whether it was something that frustrated him today that had Mydei coming to you, something about you filling his head too much today, you couldn’t really complain, even if you felt swallowed by him.

You thought that you were about to be snapped in half, with how much Mydei was forcing your thighs close to your head, folding you in half. Kneeling in front of you seated like this on his crystal throne, he was eating everything between your thighs, growling rather aggressively at your taste. “You’re always so wet for me… I bet you can’t stop thinking about me doing this to you, huh?” he said against your sweet pussy, slurping with his tongue, and latching onto your clit with his lips.

“You can’t keep quiet at all, even when I told you to. It’s as if you want us to get caught,” he said roughly. He’d never let anyone see you like this, maybe slaughter someone who did, when this holy sight was reserved just for him; nor did he want entire place to know, but you were too brain-dead on the pleasure he was giving you, to even think of the consequences of letting others hear. You, instead, were busy with moaning for him and pulling on his orange hair, unable to stay still. It was just his hands on your thighs keeping you from squirming away, supported by his strong arms.

“Mydei, please!” And he couldn’t even try to shut you up, if it meant denying himself of hearing your wanton voice. He groaned with his tongue inside of you, feeling his dick throb at your needy whines. “You taste so good, love… you’re making me crazy like this. So, so weak,” his voice was muffled against your skin, the vibrations making you even more sensitive.

No matter how much you trashed, he brought you to your first pleasure, lapping at every juice you gave him. “Damn it…” he cursed when he looked up at your expression, seeing it twisted and so ruined by him, with tears and daze in your eyes, your lips parted and crying out of him. You were so beautiful like this, and he couldn’t stop obsessing about making you like this everyday. Maybe he should, seeing what a desperate of a wife he made… if you didn’t make him even worse.

He was quickly standing up, letting your legs rest down for a moment, not even bothering to take his pants off and choosing to yank them down. Thankfully, his armor part was abandoned earlier, when he returned.

You felt heat in your abdomen grow, knowing he was going to give you something even much better, to fill you up and shut up your whines for more, or rather, make you do so even harder. He’d take care of you, as always, cause while your husband could be merciless with his enemies, with you, his wife, he felt dutiful and giving. “Please, Mydei, I need you so badly…” you said eagerly. “Fill me up.”

“You really can’t wait… No, you never can…” he mused, his low voice, not any better at hiding his desperation. “Don’t worry, I can never really deny you, no matter how much how I like hearing your begs…” he said roughly. Mydei was well aware, that his mind have been always catching up to the memories of your moans and begs from your nights, just when he’s trying to focus on something else. “My wife won’t walk around starving.”

Mydei was kneeling in front of his throne again, this time lowering your body by your legs to lay your back on the bottom of the seat, and having your head rest against the back, your neck and spine curved to accommodate the position. Your legs dangling down the throne, Mydei threw over his shoulders. You were trembling with anticipation, whimpering impatiently, when he grabbed his cock to spread his wetness with his tip stirring against your wet hole’s entrance.

“Hush, you insatiable woman…” he teased, only to grunt hard when he finally pushing himself inside of you. You were so eager for him, that stretching you even with his thick girth was easy today—you just couldn’t stop enjoying seeing your husband so eager, unable to stop himself from pouncing on you. Mydei had to grab onto your thighs again, feeling suffocated by your heart and tightness. “There we go, so full of your husband… so beautiful for me,” he groaned, and was not wasting any time to start roughly thrusting into you, not leaving any space inside of your walls empty. Mydei was even more motivated, when you were falling into moaning for him quickly, and way too loudly for your surroundings again. No one would dare to walk in without knocking, but hearing…

“So good…” you whined out. “I can’t… you’ll break me,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back.

Something twisted shone in his orange eyes at your words, making him thrust even faster and deeper. “No, I won’t break you… but I’ll make sure it’s just me on your pretty mind,” Mydei exclaimed with a sense of ownership, liking the idea of your mind being dumbed with thoughts of your husband, and no other man. Devoted just the same way he was devoting himself to you. “I really wished a way you could see yourself like this, how beautiful you are… maybe next time, I’ll take you in front of the mirror,” he said, awfully content at the idea. Your pussy was too, when you suddenly squeezed on him, and Mydei latched onto your calves roughly to pull you even closer to his hips. “Yeah? You’d want that?”

The throne was shaking at this point.

With your legs still over his shoulders, Mydei forced them around his hips for even better angle, and leaned forward to kiss you hungrily, along to rub your clit, to help you reach your peak. He tasted your tongue, smacked your lips and devoured them with his, humming when you moaned right against his mouth, making his digit circle faster and his hips to be meaner. Each harsh thrust, was making your pussy gather a pressure, that was growing and soon would snap and release in another wave of intense pleasure.

Mydei withdrew from your lips, looking below at where his fat cock was pushing himself inside of you, disappearing, and leaving no space unstreched, forcing your lips to part for him. “What’s wrong, my love? Too big for you? No… I know you love me splitting you like this,” Mydei admitted the truth for you, one you knew to the core. Nothing would ever make you feel fulfilled like he does, ever again. Taking him wasn’t easy, but Mydei always made sure to make you ready for him, with the end result always so worth the long wait. “Yes… love it so much… so big,” you blabbered, and you were making him so proud like this—thinking only about your Mydei, your husband, just like he wanted it to be.

“Do you feel how deep inside I am?” he asked in appreciation, before placing his other hand on your tummy to press. You trashed under his palm, feeling him even more right there, protesting as you felt so overwhelmed yet so good. “I’m sure you do. You take me so well, I cannot stop spoiling you like this…” he praised, before falling back into sequence of groans and grunts, when as in result of his previous actions, your legs brought him closer around his hips, forcing him even deeper into you.

Just the way he had to busy his face into your neck next, you knew he was getting close too, ready to fill you up with his load, making you even more swollen of him. Mydei just couldn’t control himself with you, that he had to rest himself here, almost embarrassed of letting you see him so much differently than an everyday warrior. You let him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, as he pounded into you and vocalized against your ear, digging your nails into his skin and leaving him even more crazy on you. His balls slapped against you, adding to the animality of the scene.

“Mydei, I’m so close, please, fill me up…” you said desperately, scratching him slightly and making his hips momentarily falter, before mad again. “I will, my pretty. You’ll take it all, won’t you? You’ll come for your dear husband, and let him fill you up like he should,” he inquired, looking up at your face again. You nodded furiously, making him smile in pride, before he sped up for the last time and spent up himself inside of your walls, making you feel even fuller and warmer. He gripped onto your sides furiously, spilling curses and rough grumbles, feeling as if you were trying to kill him, when your pussy was twitching madly from your orgasm. The high pitched strangled moan you let out, was echoing across the empty room.

Mydei kept his hips pressed tightly against yours, having you filled entirely, as he wasn’t ready to let anything spill yet. He rested over your body, its heaviness crashing you comforting, letting you both catch your breaths. He wouldn’t think a battle is more breathtaking than doing this with you.

Soon, with much more gentleness than before, Mydei was lifting you up into his arms, leaning towards your face to press a kiss against your forehead, before he was carrying you to let you both take a nice bath.

#mydei x reader #mydei smut #tcdwrites #tcdasks #hsr smut

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writella · 1 day ago

Text

Here He Is, Finally

Synopsis: “When’s it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it, fuck me to death, love me until I love myself—” This is a story about the inner struggles of a desiring Daryl who just wants to be free of the perceptions the town, and his own mind, have put on him, so he can love you and love himself, in the ways he’s always wanted to.

—or: As Daryl becomes the talk of the town, insecurity sets in that hinders him from having sex with you— the thing you most want to do.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, ambiguous age gap, mixing early seasons’ + later seasons’ personality of Daryl, the town being mean but also thinking Daryl’s hot because he is, discussions of gossiping, insecurity, and poor self-image, Daryl fights someone :), and smut— unprotected + he’s nervous but then it gets good, and it’s their/Daryl’s/your first time in whatever way you want it to be.

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

There it was. You finally said it. You told Daryl that you were ready to have sex.

When you told him, the two of you were having a quiet morning and he was about to leave. Pulling yourself up to his height, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he took you by the waist, one hand reached up to hold your head, rubbing his thumb there. Good, you had thought, he’s reciprocating. That let you know he was okay, but still, underneath, you knew he was embarrassed about last night. You weren’t going to bring it up though, not then. You wanted to move forward, to show him that you didn’t care. “Daryl,” you started, words slow, uneasy in voice but sure in intention, as you whispered to him from above his shoulder, “I just wanted to tell you– that– I feel like I’m ready.” You paused for a moment. “And whatever you feel, I’m okay with it. Just talk to me.” As silence ensued, you kissed him on the cheek, “I love you,” you said, and pulled back.

Daryl kept his hands in yours as he looked at you. His features were sad and soft as much as they were unreadable. He kissed you on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said– it wasn’t the first time you two had exchanged those words– and then he left. Just like that.

You had no expectation for how he would react. You only knew he wouldn’t give you a flat-out no, so this, was understandable. But still, there was something hollow about it, even if his kiss and words were tender. It was another relationship moment that reminded you that these things never happen as they do in fairytale romances.

You see, you had always pictured him or whoever you were with at the time, bringing you close, kissing you, their fingers trailing down and under the hem of your skirt or pants, asking you if you were ready, if you were sure, if you wanted them to go slow, slower, but Daryl— as it turns—was incredibly pure, or at least pretending to be. Either too nervous or sensitive about these things, possibly inexperienced, or much more innocent with his intentions than you ever expected. It’s like you knew Daryl like the back of your hand, but when it came to anything about you as a couple, his history, who he’s dated before– you were clueless. You didn’t know what it could be.

One thing you did suspect, although Daryl has never told you, is that he thought of you as precious, something to be delicate with, like a flower. Sometimes you’d tell him he didn’t have to be so slow or soft when you were kissing– he was always a little sloppy anyway– and whenever there was a task to get done you’d be the first to tell anyone you could do it yourself, he knew this about you. And it’s not like he babies you or anything, that was never his way. Like when you two were fighting walkers, or doing work around the communities, or when he’s teaching you how to do something. You’ve even told him that he could be a bit demanding sometimes, grouchy, rough, and he agreed– that was true. He didn’t do it on purpose, the whole being hard on you thing. But alone? When he was on top of you or you over him? Waking up to you? Feeling your hand reach for his own in the dark? Even just eating dinner with you? The guy was a mess! A little boy, even. Heart racing. Eyes averted at times.

Whenever he nipped you, on the lips, or the neck, maybe he pushed you on the bed too hard, grabbed your waist too tight that it squeezed the bone, there were always silent apologizes of gentle circles, sweet kisses, and tongue licks to soothe the pain or possible bruises he left on you. And sometimes, when you’re home alone or you shower together, and he starts to kiss you or pull you in by the waist, he almost always sets out with the intention that this time he’d finally do it— the sex thing— he always wanted to. Only if you knew! Honestly, he’d feel like such a pervert if he let you know how many times, both before and after you got together, that he’s thought of being inside you, or you on your knees for him, or him kissing up your thighs and tasting you– he genuinely thinks he’d really like it, all of it, but especially that. But every time you’ve kissed and kissed enough, he’d get too overwhelmed about how to proceed or too nervous to even try. He tells you that you two should shower or go to bed or that he has to go for whatever reason. So all you’ve done is grind on each other, a lot, but that’s about it. You know he’s gotten hard and you’ve gotten wet, but you’re not sure if he’s ever noticed. He wants to put his hands in your pants, he wants to rip your blouse, he wants to squeeze your tits and slap your ass, but every time he thinks about actually doing it, he feels it's too forward or raunchy, or maybe it's not actually like him in the way he’s pictured in his head, or maybe you’d hate it, and specifically the way he did it. And he has thought about doing it slowly, romantically, but every time he thinks about doing that, he feels stupid, thinking he’ll come off as clumsy and pathetic to you. He doesn’t exactly get the concept of slow and sexy yet— reaching up, breathing you in, letting his fingers linger, or hands caress and massage. It’s not that he couldn’t do it though, or so he thinks, if he really tries; it's that doesn’t even think he’s sexy to begin with.

The only thing Daryl knows for sure are the things people call him when they think he’s not listening.

“Deep and… grunty,” one much too young girl said to her equally young friend who giggled, indicating her agreement even if she was too afraid to verbalize it. “I just like his voice,” the first girl said, “it’s sexy.” Or, “Wild,” as one of Aaron’s friends whispered to him, “Like he could throw me around, do it in front of the whole town, and wouldn’t care who saw.” To which Aaron scoffed and replied, “That’s literally my fucking friend.” But in truth, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it himself, how Daryl looked underneath his vest and button-downs– it was just once though!– he promises!– as if he needed to explain it to himself. He even told his husband about it; they had agreed on Daryl’s attractiveness. Eric called it “rugged,” and they laughed about it over dinner. Now, Aaron would repeat that word as he overheard another group of ladies discussing ways to describe or trademark some of the male leaders in town. As Aaron passed by, “rugged,” was his suggested alternative to the word “beast” when one older lady described Daryl, in a way that would make anyone not a part of the conversation cringe, “Beast, sexy armed beast.” But Aaron was only met with silence and weird hums until a girl replied that “sexy armed rugged,” doesn’t make any sense. To that, all the ladies agreed. As Aaron walked away, wanting nothing more with this kind of conversation about his friends, he caught the new suggestion: “Daddy,” a girl had said with the widest smile on her face— she wasn’t a teenager, but it was obviously her first time being vocal about these things. She must have felt she said something so salacious. And as much as Aaron wanted to gag, there was also a part of him that reluctantly stopped himself from laughing and blushing with the rest of the woman. One of them rolled her eyes saying, “They can’t all be daddy,” to which another girl said, “But they kind of are!” and then he was too far away to hear anymore.

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

The only ones that truly bothered him though were when they added, “I know he’s a little ugly but,” or “I know he’s not my type but,” or “I know he looks a little dirty but,” “And he never does his hair but,” “And he’s not like the smartest but,” but, but, but—

It all made him feel bad about himself; more confused.

Even when it was just generally flattering, he found it hard to take any of it as a compliment. Sometimes he would, maybe the whispers of him being “kinda hot,” on the days when he’d return to his cut-off sleeved shirts, or maybe those moments when a lady would be talking to her friend saying how he’s “handsome,” or how she just knows “he’s packing–big–” and what’s better than a big dick, right? At least that is what Daryl thought– it's the bit of Merle in him– and he bets Negan wished he had one— Daryl was pretty sure Negan’s is a tiny little bitch just like his personality. No one gets to kill one of his best friends and gets more than a three-incher. Right, J.C.? If you’re even up there? Not that Daryl would mind if you were or weren’t, or cares if you did, he wouldn’t mind– Daryl didn’t think about religion that much anymore. And on that note, he realizes that he doesn’t do a lot of the same things he used to anymore. Like the way he would walk around without a care, even confidently sometimes, not thinking about how much he swung his arms or the way he talked or the way his hair fell that day. There was this one time, as he was walking over to Rick in the garden, telling him he couldn’t find whatever particular tools Rick wanted, he yelled, “They ain’t there no more, Rick!” that he heard some older guy say to his friend that Daryl sounded like a “human gremlin,” to which the friend tried to one-up him by saying, “more like a garbage disposal.” Then another day, some girl said he looks like a “wet rat sometimes,” especially when his hair is flat or, as said in the phrase, wet; and he never forgot it, either of them or anything anyone has ever said about him. It’s always been like this. Even when he was a kid.

Daryl tries to remember that people have just gotten too comfortable now that Alexandria is back on track, at least that’s basically what you had said. One day, Daryl came into your room, huffing and throwing himself on your desk chair, saying, “Some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” To which you had asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head.

“Well,” you begin, responding to his un-answer, “some gossip is misogynized. It used to be a way for women to spread information, but–” you avoid the lecture— “I get what you mean.” You look at him, seeing the way his eyes still drift. “I can’t tell you everything, but Rosita and I had heard some people speculate on the whole her and Saddiq and Gabriel thing.” You shook your head, your eyes rolling a little, “It made her upset. I could tell. But it took her a while to talk about it. I think some people forget they can talk behind closed doors now. Our porches aren’t as private as they used to be, and people have gotten mean.” To that, you both nodded in agreement and then you climbed toward the edge of your bed to hold his hand. Something was obviously wrong. “Has anyone said anything about you?”

Again, he shakes his head and you have to leave it at that— all he wanted to do was ask questions about you now, and he wouldn’t let you change the subject.

But at home, alone, he stares at the mirror, trying to see what other people see: handsome, rugged, possibly wild… but all he saw were things he didn’t l understand, things that made him feel he wasn’t good enough. Did they really think he was attractive? And if so, why did they always have to bring up that there was something completely unattractive about him before the compliment? And why were those remarks always easier to believe? Or was it all just some weird fantasy they felt dirty about having? And was being rude behind his back was some sort of justification for it? Was it all of them above? Most importantly, did you think any of this?

Next Saturday, a week after you told him you were ready, the town gathered in the church during the evening for the monthly communal meal. This was something that started during the rehabilitation of Alexandria, another thing that the population was getting too big to contain, but Rick and Judith liked it. So, Michonne agreed to keep it— for now— despite reasoning that “this is what holidays are for, Rick.”

It was about an hour in, 6pm and sunset now past. Some people who had been busy working were still filing in, little by little, but for the most part, a majority of citizens were seated, eating, and chatting. There was a steady rain outside that made everything smell fresh, and if it wasn’t for all the chatter, you could even possibly hear the light drumming on the church walls. Everyone was quite pleased about it, spring seemed to be coming early.

Daryl had not come to see you last night and left early this morning so you didn’t know where he went or what he did, but what you did know for certain is that he never carried an umbrella. Therefore, when he finally arrived, 30 minutes later, his hair was soaked, and since he didn’t even wear his jacket, the long sleeves of his shirt were drenched with water droplets sticking to his vest and shoes that sloshed and left wet footprints on the wooden floor.

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

There is a fine line with Daryl between not giving a fuck about how he was perceived, and caring far too much while not willing to do anything about it, and of course, with all that has happened in the past few weeks, it was the ladder. He hated being the center of attention, but it was hard for him to not be noticeable, it never was, especially now. He felt ridiculous.

As he walks onto the stage– where all the tables of food are placed– you follow him.

“Hi,” you say next to him.

“Hi,” he replies, calling you by your nickname kindly enough, but not ever looking at you.

“You know, I think Rick was hoping you were coming back on time. I don’t know why he put all that stuff on his chair if it wasn’t for you or Michonne and Michonne sat with me.”

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

“Daryl,” you move to the other side of the table as he gathers his food so he can look at you. Quietly you say, “We don’t have to talk about it now, but– I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the other day. Or if it was about the night before, you just have to tell me.” You poke his shoulder, “You’re acting weird and you know it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” is all he grumbles.

“But I still want to say I’m sorry if I did.”

Daryl quickly finds some napkins to dry his hands and wrists with and comes over to place them on the sides of your head to kiss you there. “You ain’t got anything to be sorry about. Alright? I’m fine.” His hands drop and holds you by the neck for a moment, the movement makes some water droplets bleed onto your clothes, you feel it but you say nothing. The only thing Daryl notices from you is that your eyes look almost identical to his despite the differing color– his mood is affecting yours, but he doesn’t know what to say right now to make you feel better so he opts for something he always know is true, “You’re perfect. You know that right?” And I’m just fuckin’ weirdo, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.

You were smiling at him. He doesn’t get it. He looked like an idiot all soaking wet and you were smiling at him. There couldn’t be a better reaction, but still, it’s moments like this where he can’t believe you’re real. All you say is “Okay,” never taking a compliment, just like him, instead of finding a way to break-up with him like he always nearly suspects. “Come to me when you finish, alright? We can leave if you want?”

“Alright,” he responds and you leave him be.

As Daryl goes down the rows of tables picking out what he wants, he heads to the last one. The way the event was set up was that everyone who came early had the opportunity to take a seat at one of the four tables that were placed along each corner of the stage and the rest sat in the pews, but despite the higher vantage point the stage gave, that did not mean Daryl couldn’t hear what those around the stage were saying around him— as always. It must be a hunter’s ear or something.

“Be careful,” a woman says smirking, her eyes gesturing to Daryl. “Let’s hope he doesn’t wet us.” The friend in front of her snickers, looking back to see that Daryl is now by the table just above theirs. Whispering, the first woman continues, shaking her head, “I don’t know how Rick or the girl put up with it. She just acted like nothing was wrong. He’s mudding up the whole damn church!”

Daryl keeps his back turned. This ends up being his last straw. “How about you shut the fuck up,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Louder, facing no one in particular he yells, “Why does everyone act like I don’t got ears?”

You look up, synchronized with everyone in the church and get up with Rick who is already slowly approaching him, but Michonne yanks you down.

“What is your problem?”

To that, he turns back to the woman, “How ‘bout you say what you said again and stop talking shit under your breath.”

“What?”

“I said,” he starts yelling again, “if you got somethin’ to say about me lady, say it to ma’ face. That’s what I said.”

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asks almost warningly, but not before someone yells, “Who the fuck are you talking to, man?” from one of the aisles in the back. It was her husband, now standing from his seat. He and his wife make eye contact, and instantly he’s moving closer.

Daryl walks to the edge of the front stage, barking a quick “move” without any pause and Eugene and Siddiq violently bob their heads and grab their plates as Daryl steps on the table and jumps to the floor.

Rick tries to push him back but it’s no use, Daryl pushes him in return and he and the husband are charging at each other, speaking over each other: “What did you say to my wife?” “Told her to shut the fuck up. Thought I said it loud enough–” “Nah, man you were mumblin’ like always–” “Or d’you need me to say it louder with ma garbage disposal mouth?” Daryl pushes him, “Huh?” “I’m not fighting you, man.” But Daryl persists, getting in the man’s face, their noses almost touching. He whispers, “You know, maybe your wife’s got everyone’s name in her mouth because she don’t fuckin’ like you.” The man keeps shaking his head, but Daryl surprises him, he isn’t the only one the town gossips about. “She’s fucking Mark,” he tells him. That was true, and people knew it. “He’s your friend, ain’t he? Maybe that’s why she’s always–” But no, not him, her husband did not know, so he punches, straight in the eye. Daryl almost smiles as he takes the next swing.

The two are tussling, but not for long as Rick takes the chance to get Daryl from behind, taking him away with Gabriel’s help. “You done?” Rick asks as Gabriel holds him on the other side, His grip honestly does nothing though and Daryl shrugs him off. Poor Gabe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm to see the church– practically his church– in such disarray.

With that, and with Daryl raging too much to contain, he shrugs Rick off and stomps out.

Michonne finally takes her hand off of your wrist and you make you way to leave too. As you walk, you look back to Rick who is already trying to follow, and wordlessly tell him that it’s your turn now, then, turn to awkwardly dodge the people still standing in the aisle and collect your things to go.

Daryl was not hard to find. It almost made you think he wanted to be found or knew you’d go after him— he’s being such a child today. Despite the town lights, you hold out your flashlight to find him sits on a tree stump on the edge of town next to one of his favorite trees. The leaves did a terrible job of covering him from anything but you knew he didn’t care. It was almost laughable honestly. Still, you take pity, he was yours and you were concerned. “I know you don’t care about getting wet,” you say with no malice or disappointment in your voice, “but all that water in your shoes can cause blisters. You didn’t even wear the ones that don’t have holes.”

He just shakes his head, as always, and water droplets fall from the tips of his hair.

“Remember when that happened to me and you drained them with needles even though Saddiq told us not to?”

He stares at you, stone-faced for a moment. “You’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

“Really?” You ask ironically. “So if I’m the baby why are you acting like one right now? It’s been raining since morning, Daryl! Not even a jacket? You’re obviously upset about something but I’m not going to continue this with you in the rain, looking like a sad, wet puppy.”

He sneered at the comment, wet.

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let me take you.”

“We don’t live together.”

You frown. “Don’t be mean, Daryl,” you gently warn. “You know what I mean.”

You hold your hand out for him, water collecting in your palm as you wait. It was more of a gesture than actual help as you two were still a few feet away from each other. “Please? You could have already ran away on your bike or gone home and locked your door but you didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but don’t act like I don’t know you.”

Reluctantly, he gets up, walking to you in almost slow motion. You wish you could call him the drama queen he is right now, but it was time to get out of this rain– you would hold it in for the time being.

As you enter the small place, you make no conversation. You simply get to work and he doesn’t stop you. You take off your rain jacket and boots, then you take off his vest and boots. You drag him to his room and hang up your sweater and take off your jewelry, then you empty his pant pockets. Finally, you hold his hand as he trails behind you and into the bathroom. You unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants and place them all in the hamper. He takes off his underwear and helps you take off your clothes too. When you’re done, you turn on the water and go in, he follows. You bathe and wash his hair in silence. You are tender and gentle, and he knows it, he appreciates it, but his mind is loud, and angry, and he feels so pathetic as you wash him like he’s 5 years old. You turn around to start washing yourself as he takes care of cleaning his legs and lower area. After he’s done, all he can do is look at you, your body, the soft humming you can’t help but do when you shower. It’s exactly as he said, you’re perfect. He wants to bang his head against the wall because of it.

When you two finish, you sit on his bed, wearing one of his white shirts and a pair of boxers, he wears the same except his bottoms are sweatpants. He hates these kinds of casual clothes actually, he’s only okay with wearing it sometimes, but he has nothing else at the moment. All he had to do was give his clothes to Carol to wash, but he didn’t. He hasn’t really done anything this week.

“Ms. Ellen is a bitch.” You finally say, giving him an ice pack for his eye. “And so is Mr. Gary and they both have the whiteness names in the world. And they’re both lazy as fuck and reek of nepotism because they only had one of the biggest houses and biggest egos in Alexandria because they were friends with Deanna and they’re still bitter that their house being destroyed in the fire— which I get— but it’s not okay that she uses her bitterness to talk shit about everyone. And it’s also not okay that you used your anger to fight someone who didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t like you.”

“Maybe it is. You didn’t always know me.”

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

“Fine, I’ll change it: Can you be a tough guy? Yeah. But do you pick fights and make big scenes in front of the kids like that? No, you don’t.” You stare at him, tapping him on the knee and forcing him to look at you. “You not talking is obviously not working, Daryl. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he finally says lowly.

“I don’t think you could,” you answer, “I’m not even now, I’m just frustrated. Or confused really. Why do you think you would?”

He lowers his ice pack, “Cause I’m not fuckin’ Rick.”

You laugh a little. “Well, I did have my suspicions, but great, that’s good to know. I’m glad you’re not fucking Rick.”

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

“Have you not realized I’ve been trying to be? For weeks now? It obviously doesn’t work.” Both of you look down as you continue, “And I finally tell you how I feel and what I want and you just leave and barely talk to me for the rest of the week. And before you even mention coming into my bed at night or saying goodnight or good morning to me and telling me what you’ll do that day, that’s not talking, it's just saying stuff. At some point I can’t always chalk it up to Oh, that’s just Daryl; at some point, a person starts thinking that they're the problem. That I’m the problem! That I’m not good enough.”

A tear falls down your cheek involuntarily, then another; you were clenching your jaw after you finished speaking but it was no use. After everything, all the bullshit and the girls and the punch to his eye that really fucking hurt even though it was his fault he got it, this is actually the worst thing that has happened to Daryl in the past months– making you cry.

“You’re more than good enough,” he says in his mumble, still not looking at you. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” You yell frustratingly as you wipe tears away. “Stop talking down about yourself!”

Daryl looks off into the window. He wants to speak, he does. The words are all on the tip of his tongue but they cannot come out, they never do. As he watches you wipe away your last tears, he thinks everyone is right, that that guy is right, he has a garbage mouth, his voice is poison. He never makes any sense and he always says the wrong thing. Why speak anyway?

“I can’t help you or at least try to understand if you don’t say anything. I know it's hard— I don’t like doing it either. I was scared to tell you what I did last week. But it just starts with one thing.”

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

“The first thing that comes to your mind when I say, ‘what’s wrong?’, what is it? Just say it. I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to say you’re wrong, anything—”

“People think I’m ugly,” he interrupts, “I’ve heard them say it.”

Your eyes widen, in shock for him and in shock that people could still care about such stupid things right now. “Who said that to you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s why I mentioned Rick. No one says stuff like that about Rick.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be like Rick and you don’t have to be.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He gestures to himself, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Look at me.”

There’s something about the way his hand then reaches to cover his eyes in frustration, the way he slides it down to scratch his beard, accidentally magnifying to you the wisps of salt and pepper among the brown that gives you a clue to what he means. “I’m not some little girl, and I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know, but you’re not my age either. And I don’t always think about you when it comes to it, it’s about me- I think about me.”

“So what about it? When it comes to the hair on your head and your eyes and the way you talk— that has nothing to do with how old you are, that’s just who you are. You didn’t choose to look as you do. And you and Rick have always looked the same age if I have to mention him, and his beard is whiter than yours at this point. Neither of you look old, or bad.” Your words do nothing so far. “You also have a better build than plenty of people in town. You’re stronger too.”

“But when they talk about Rick, all they say is that he talks too much and that he’s bossy and hardass and at least that’s true.”

You couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing a bit at that. It kind of was true.

“I’ve never heard anyone say things about him the way they say about me. Never anything about how he looks. But when they talk about me— they think I’m a fuckin’ animal.” There is silence after this. The word wild lingers in his mind and animal in yours. Again you want to ask, who could say that and have they not realized all Daryl has done for this place? Then, the more you listen, the more you realize that hidden beneath those with endless respect are some with hearts of cruelty and minds stuck in the regular old world ways that don’t exist anymore. “And sometimes, when I think about why you like me, I think that maybe it’s despite other things.”

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

“We all have bad qualities though. We’re not perfect.”

“I mean that I’m not some regular good looking guy.”

“Why would I want regular?” Your smile fades as his sad eyes persist. “Daryl, I can’t change your mind or make you feel the way I do about you, but why can’t you trust that I like you, and that I want to be around you? And that I’m,” you blush, “very attracted to you and I’ve felt like an embarrassing teenage girl the past few months waiting and trying to get you to have sex with me!” Quietly you say, “Have you not realized how much I really want you? How much I care? Everyday I feel lucky.”

He can’t take it. “Guess it’s like you said— can’t believe it if I don’t see it myself.”

His mouth is screwed shut, his throat tight, but just like you, it’s no use, a tear rolls down his cheek. Immediately you hug him. He holds you tightly in return and even though it makes your ribs hurt a little, you let him. All of this makes you see how much you two are alike than you’ve ever realized.

“You know,” you say into his hair, “there was this one time, I was up super early and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went out for a walk. I passed by Olivia’s house and she waved me over from her window and asked me if I could help her restock the pantry before Rick came later in the day to check it because she had this huge migraine. Well, that turned into me doing the whole thing for her. She said she was going inside for a break and some water and the next thing I know she’s asleep on her couch! And you know how her niece lives with her? I guess she runs in the morning and while I was finishing up, her and her friend lean up against one of the garage doors and I hear them talking. I was just about to open the door to leave but then she says, ‘She’s sweet but kind of a kiss-ass, right? Like a try-hard?’ And then her friend goes, ‘Yeah, she really wants to be one of them,’ ‘But all she is, is just Daryl’s little girlfriend.’” Daryl lets go to face you, his eyes incredulous just as yours were when he said someone called him ugly. “And then they started saying how I insert myself into places or something, so thought if I came out right then and they see me having done Olivia’s job for her… I didn't want them to get an up-close look of them being right. So I waited until they went in the house and then I left and for the whole rest of the week I was upset because I thought I was becoming friends with those girls but really I wasn’t, and I questioned if Rick and Michonne or Rosita or Glenn and Maggie even thought of me as a friend because they actually like me or if I’m even good enough to be one or if it’s only because I’m associated to you that they care to talk to me. I felt pathetic too.” You pause. “So, I’m really sorry, Daryl. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re being picked on in the town you live in— in the place you helped create.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. I should have said something.”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted that to happen.”

“But I wish I knew. Cause I would have if I knew. I feel like I let Michonne stop me because I didn’t understand. And all I’m saying is whether I've had it as bad as you or not, I do get it. And I’m angry for you. And you don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me things like this. It was dumb of me to keep my feelings in, just like you do with everything.”

Daryl swipes his hair to the side, parts of it are dry and waving while other areas are still wet, making him think about the rat joke. “No one likes you because of me,” he says. “You’re likable because you’re you and you care. And fuck those dumb-ass girls. They’re idiots for saying that.” He rubs your thigh. “I didn’t say anything the other day because when we were in the shower the night before I,” God, he feels stupid, “I got hard and you saw it and I realized it was the first time you saw it like that before and, I don’t know, I got scared.”

“Did you think that I’d think you’re ugly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daryl,” you tisk, “after the amount of times we’ve showered together already?”

He gets defensive, “I don’t know! Felt different.”

“People usually get excited to know their partner is excited because of them.”

“I just feel like you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Why do you always think that? I don’t have any expectations. I just want you to show me you love me.” You begin to look nervous, “I want to feel wanted too.”

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

You try to think, “Daryl— what is it that you picture when- when you want to do it?”

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

“Well what do I do? Or what do you do to me?”

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

“Sometimes it just starts with what we always do. Kissin’. Maybe you’re on top of me.”

You waste no time; you get on top of him.

“And I press you down.” Daryl’s hands are now heavy on your hips, your hands are on his chest, you rock into him slowly.

“And sometimes I think about you bouncing on me or-” he pauses, the way you rock and the way he pushes up to you hitting a perfect spot of friction that makes the both of you gasp.

“Say it,” you tell him.

“I’m fucking you from behind. Or you're on the bottom and I’m going hard or being all gentle and shit like you but I don’t know how.”

“You know we can do all that, right?”

Daryl is red. Both you and him are surprised at yourself, but his bashfulness almost brings it out of you naturally. And honestly, your jacked and grumpy dilf boyfriend has left you repressed for far too long— you’re horny.

Suddenly, you move yourself onto one of his thighs and start palming his bulge as you rock. “Do I do this in your dreams?”

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

You move yourself from his thigh and lay down to start kissing him. He reciprocates, grabbing your face and pulling you close. Daryl starts nipping at your neck and you try your hardest not to yelp so he won’t stop. As you two continue, your slick starts to wet his boxers and you press your legs together as he gets harder under his sweatpants.

“Have you ever noticed how wet I get when we kiss?”

“Only at night,” it’s hard for his words to come out as you continue palming him, “when you don’t have clothes on.”

“And you never did anything about it?” You whine. “Do you know how bad I need you? How much I think about you?”

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

“Yes.” Daryl swallows, whimpering a little. You now stroke him, his dick riding up against his thigh, and it feels too good. “What- What do I do in your dreams?”

“You lay me on the bed and put your dick in me and fuck me and it feels amazing,” you say between hot breaths. “And you’re not scared to do it.”

“I wanna do it.”

“So, please, Daryl, do it. I want it so bad.”

Daryl uses your words as courage. He takes you off of him and goes over you.

You both take off your shirts and he strips you from his boxers and him from his sweatpants.

Finally, without regret or without him turning away you see his cock stand. It’s proud, meaty, and you can’t lie, a little scary, but you’ll never tell him, even if your widening eyes give you away. It’ll fit, you assure yourself. You won’t be afraid.

“You okay?” He asks, timidity setting in again.

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You pout, he’s stalling. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“Beautiful.”

“And you're handsome. No pretenses. No exceptions.” You come up on your knees to face him, kissing his lips softly. “It’s like we said, we’ve dreamed about this.”

You lay down again, and Daryl places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them, making space for himself. You watch as takes hold of himself, mouth agape and pumping himself a few times as he stares at your body before slowly entering you. Your pussy is drooling at the sight.

Your eyes instantly close and scrunch. Although it worries Daryl, he’s glad you’ve shut them so he can continue looking up and down— up at your face to see if you’re in pain and down as he watches his cock enter you for the first time. You were incredibly tight to him, tighter than he ever imagined, he wasn’t used to this feeling and he liked it, a lot. It made his stomach clench and all his muscles flex as his breathing gets heavier, trying to stop the possibility of him moaning at the sight of it all.

“Are you okay?”

It was big and there was something about it that felt good but it hurt, the stretch indescribable, but you nod and tell him, “I like it,” because that was true, and everything else felt like too much to explain right now, your thoughts almost dissipating.

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands on the bed to start.

Once more your eyes screw shut. He almost takes himself out before he pushes back into you again. He doesn’t know if he went slow enough but he tried. Your eyes wrinkling because of how hard you closed them doesn’t help though. He wants to tell you to relax but he’s not even relaxed himself to even make it sound believable.

He tries again, not going so far out this time and slowly goes back in to the hilt again, so slowly in fact he thinks that must have been awkward for you. He stops, tries one more time, then stops again. Your sounds seem like you’re hurt. He knows you’ll say it’s just pain and adjustment to his size but he instantly perceives it as disgust. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He must be ‘too much’; ‘too big,’ that’s what it is. Those are things he has heard in porn tapes Merle used to give him or things he noticed in porno mags he maybe used to read that he had found in a store near Hershel’s farm all those years ago, and supposedly it was a good thing for it to be too much, but now, look at you: you were in pain. And it was taking everything in him not to ram into you. He felt pathetic, again. Stupid, again. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he should just withdraw right now, clean you up, try to give you a sympathetic look through his hair that said he was sorry for defiling you and not even make you feel an ounce of pleasure in the process. Everyone was right, he is a joke.

“Daryl,” you say, looking up at him, “you don’t have to keep stopping for me. I just need to relax and you just need to be slow. I think I can take it.”

“I know,” he responds, kissing your forehead.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. “Do what feels right to you. You have to trust me to tell you if it hurts or not.”

He almost laughs at that. You think he’s so strong; that he has all the power. It’s so strange to him.

Daryl puts his head in the crux of your neck, closes his eyes, and tries again. He holds your waist, thumb on your ribs and the other fingers on your back as he pushes his hips into you.

You hug his chest and feel all of it. “Make yourself feel good Daryl, it’s gonna feel so good to me if you do that, I promise.” After his 4th small pump you let out a whiny moan of relief. “Oh- okay- keep going.”

Daryl moves his elbows to the bed by your head and starts pushing his hips against you, finding a rough yet steady rhythm. He loves the slapping sound your bodies are making and can’t help but speed up. He goes deeper and you start moaning. He already feels he’s losing himself. He tries to kiss you to slow down, but realizes he can’t plow into you the same way he just found out he likes. He goes back to it and he starts grunting and groaning— there is a part of him that is embarrassed by it but it just feels so good. “Are you gonna come?” He asks between sharp thrusts.

“Don’t focus on that,” you tell him. “Stay like this. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he really can’t think of anything anymore than continuing to pump himself in you so he does. You try your best to rock up into him, but he has full control, his hands on your hips still as tight as ever as he pushes into you, making you and the bed bounce at his mercy.

You’re more than fine with it all. Even better, you couldn’t believe this meant that Daryl was about to come inside you. Something in you knew it was about to happen. It was the way he placed his elbows by your head and started cursing and ramming into you harder and even whimpered in your ear and gave you these little puppy kisses there before getting back to it. You were surprised by how noisy he was but you didn’t dare say a word other than panting and whining back into him so he’d continue, even in moments when it felt too much and too hard. He was forgetting all his doubts and that was the goal right now. You lock your legs around his hips and tell him, “You feel amazing inside me. My handsome man,” and that does it, “Oh, fuck,” he says as he releases every last drop of himself inside you.

Now, as he slows down, he looks at you, thumb on your bottom lip and chin as he tries his best to keep rolling his hips on you as he comes down from his high, but you ask, “Will you kiss me down there, Daryl? I’ve always wanted that.”

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

“I think it’ll happen if you do it like that. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He stops for a moment deciding if this means he’s failed or not, but he simply says, “Okay,” all kindly and nodding like it was your idea even though it was because this means another one of his dreams were coming true.

Instantly, he’s licking you, feeling more assured of what he could do— this was one of his most vivid fantasies so even though he doesn’t know for sure, he thinks he’s got.

“Oh, oh my god,” his tongue is bringing up wetness to your clit and sucking on it, “that’s good.” He starts licking your clit, going fast, “Daryl, that’s so good.”

He looks up at you, dazed already, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” You fix his hair and he loves the feeling. Truly, he was going a little too fast actually, going up and down and this way and that way too much, but the sounds his mouth and your pussy were making together were too glorious. You let him go, you let him be proud, and either way, you’re whining and moaning because of it. He’s perfectly imperfect and he doesn’t even know it. But you’re too in love with the feeling of him to explain what that means right now so all you say is what he told you about yourself in the church, “I think you’re just perfect.”

To that, he stops again and he looks up at you, smiling. It’s one of those rare ones he seldom does, teeth and all, and your slick coating his lips all the while. His eyes are shining, and he gives you the smallest, sweetest, most innocent kiss to the most obscene place on your body— your clit.

At this point all your sounds have been short, quiet, filled with whines but to this, you moan at the sight, full and loud. It’s involuntary. It’s pornographic. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his life. His cock stirs, springing up again as he goes back to giving you your first and forever the most slobberiest head of your life.

After a while he beckons you from below, “Hey, angel,” he calls.

“Mm,” you respond lightly. You’re nearly blissed out. He’s going to make you come.

“I think those girls were right.”

Your eyes become so cute yet so sad— you just want him on you again. “What do you mean?”

“You are sweet. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh,” you whisper, moaning again as he goes back to licking your clit. “Oh. Fuck.”

He starts licking and kissing your puffy lips, making wet sounds with his tongue, slurping little bits of you where he can. He loves how slick and noisy your pretty pussy is. Your clit throbs and he hums into it all dark and grumbled and husky going, “Mmmmmm.”

You tell him, “God, it’s so good, Daryl.” To which he responds, referring to a different it, “And it’s mine.”

Oh, so he’s cocky now? Well, that’s new for him. You lay back at the thought, at the feeling, reveling in delight.

Here he is, finally.

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