#not enough words and time to talk about how much I love her and her quotes and her character arc truly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vifilms · 3 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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little-wicked10 · 2 days ago

Text

Wanna Bet?🌹

Summary: After inviting her to be his date to some dinner, she finds out about the cruel and sleazy bet between Soldier Boy and his sidekick.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, cursing, dirty talk, body insecurities, self-doubt, Gunpowder and Black Noir being dicks, use of the word ‘fat’, body worship, mirror sex, overstimulation, creampie

Notes: I read this headcannon by @zepskies that really hit me in the feels. I deal with body insecurities, and I was inspired to write this for anyone that’s ever felt insecure or ashamed of their body🩷 Plus, Soldier Boy gives off the vibe that he’d like a thick girl😈 Prepare to cry and be horny (it’s a confusing feeling).

The reflection she saw in the mirror she didn’t like. It was too easy to pick apart every aspect of her body that she found undesirable: her stomach wasn’t flat, love handles, stretch marks on her thighs, arms kinda flabby, and her ass was too big. Don’t even get her started on her breasts. At least, that’s how she saw herself, a collection of undesirable, unattractive features. While some would refer to her as curvy, she knew that was a nice way of saying she wasn’t thin.

Fat to be exact.

Despite all the things she thought was wrong about her, Soldier Boy apparently didn’t. It was hard not to be intimidated by the supe when he approached her with that confident swagger, sitting on the edge of her desk. She blushed when he flashed a charming smile and began complimenting her.

“So listen, I need a date for this bullshit dinner in Payback’s honor,” his tone was playful, “I came around to ask if you’d be my arm candy for the night.”

Her eyes widened in shock, “Y-You want me to go? With you?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “What do ya say? Wanna spend a night with America’s Hero?”

Of course, she said yes. She’d have been an idiot not to. It wasn’t until she was by herself did she realize what she agreed to, and her stomach fluttered with anxiety and excitement. She was about to go on a date with Soldier Boy. THE Soldier Boy. The supe that has his pick of any woman asked her to be his date. She recognizes he probably asked out of convenience. She was the one female employee he hadn’t tried to or succeeded in sleeping with.

He wouldn’t want to sleep with her anyway. Why would he? Rumors around the tower were he had playmates and supermodels on speed dial, so why would he want to sleep with her? She was just a plain office employee that blended into the background.

A knock interrupted her reeling thoughts. Opening the door, a young man from Vought stood balancing a clothes bag and a couple of boxes in his arms. She let him in and watched as he set the items out on her kitchen counter. She thanked him as she handed him a decent tip. The poor kid probably wasn’t making enough to run errands for a bunch of supes.

Delicately, her fingers began to inspect the items before noticing a note attached to one of the boxes:

‘Pick you up at 7. Wear this for me, doll - SB’

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach seeing his handwriting. She quickly unzipped the bag to reveal a beautiful black silk dress, “Holy shit.” The boxes contained a pair of strappy black heels and glittering diamond jewelry. If she wasn’t in disbelief before, she definitely was now.

Looking up at the clock, she shifted gears and began to get ready. She was meticulous in her routine: shaving and moisturizing until she felt soft and smooth, redoing her makeup to perfection, taking extra care with every strand of hair curled. She hadn’t felt this giddy and nervous in a long time. God knew the last time she put this much effort into her self-care. While her insecurities still rested heavily in her thoughts, a little bubble of hope settled in her chest. Maybe he would find her attractive enough to sleep with.

It should have been more upsetting that she could potentially be another notch on his belt, but the way he looked at her made her feel so….beautiful, attractive, sexy even.

She didn’t stare at her reflection too long, simply glancing to make sure everything was together and perfect. She felt so beautiful and studying herself would only ruin that feeling. Suddenly, there was another knock at her door. Looking at the clock, nerves chewed on her stomach realizing he had arrived right on time.

She stepped towards the door and, with trembling hands, opened it. Leaning against the door frame, looking like the Marlboro man himself, was Soldier Boy. His eyes blatantly roamed over her head to toe, “Christ on a cross! Aren’t you delicious.”

She nearly melted into a puddle, “T-Thank you. You have great taste.”

He smirked before producing a rose from behind his back, “I know what looks good on a woman’s body. Usually, it’s me.”

He chuckled when her whole face broke out in a deep blush before taking the flower from him. “C’mon, sexy. Got a limo and champagne on ice waiting for us downstairs,” he smirked as he held out his arm to her that she quickly accepted.

All eyes fell on Soldier Boy and his date the second they entered the room. They all wanted to know who the supe had decided to bring. He encouraged her to feel up his muscles with a mischievous grin as they moved about the party. She was quiet as she walked with him, observing the charismatic way he interacted with everyone that approached. People were just captivated by him. It was too easy to get caught up in his charming smile and hearty laugh.

Her back stiffened when she noticed they were getting closer to Payback, one of the more nerve wracking tables to be a guest at. He must have felt her tense because he chuckled, “Don’t be so uptight, baby. You’re rollin’ with Soldier Boy. Have some fun.” She looked up at his forest green eyes, biting her lip and nodding with a smile. He suddenly stopped a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes, taking one for himself and urging her to do the same.

He gently clinked their glasses together before downing the liquor in one go. He groaned in satisfaction which sent her imagination running wild. God, was that man a walking sex dream. They finally stood around Payback’s table. The team members didn’t seem too friendly with one another. It was more like they tolerated each other, but that wasn’t new.

Soldier Boy released her arm to pull out a chair. She mumbled a shy thank you before sitting down. Glancing around the table, she noticed Gunpowder and Black Noir whispering to themselves before laughing. Doubt crept into her mind, body nearly closing in on itself, when a large hand rested against her lower back. Eyes darted over to see Soldier Boy smirking at her. Her stomach fluttered again, skin breaking out in goosebumps from the warmth of his palm. The look on his face gave away the fact he loved seeing her so flustered.

It was nearing the end of the night when he excused himself, “Don’t go anywhere, gorgeous. Gotta talk with the big wigs before we get outta here.” Her cheeks pinked, and she nodded, watching him disappear into the crowd of people. A content sigh leaves her lips, fingers admiring the rose he’d given her. She was having a great time, which she hadn’t expected. She assumed she’d be ignored the second they arrived, but Ben (which he insisted she call him) had been nothing but a charming date. Flirting and little touches that had her heart racing and heat pooling between her legs. It was like he knew the effect he had on her.

“Can’t believe I owe that son of a bitch a $100.”

“I told you it was a bad idea.”

Gunpowder and Black Noir’s voices caught her attention. She looked around and found them just a few steps away from the table near the bar. They either didn’t know or didn’t care how loud they were as they continued their conversation. Whatever they were talking about, Gunpowder was pissed off.

“You know better than to make bets with that asshole,” Noir chastised, “You lost $500 betting he couldn’t convince Farah Fawcett and Cindy Crawford to a threesome.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Looks like he’s actually gonna go for it,” Gunpowder groaned, “I thought he’d be too shallow to sleep with her fat ass.”

There it was, her worst fear. She felt like cold water had been dumped on her, jolting her awake from whatever dream she’d been in. This whole thing had been a bet? Her throat constricted and tears began to burn in her eyes, stomach twisting till she felt nauseas. She felt so pathetic and stupid. How could she have been so blind? It was all just a fucked up game, and she played right into it.

She stood and quickly made her way to the nearest bathroom. Her vision blurred causing her to bump a few people on her way out. They scowled and complained, but she didn’t notice. Once hidden away, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Of course this had been a cruel joke. Somebody like Ben wouldn’t have given her a second glance if it he wasn’t getting something out of it. She leaned against the sink, wiping her cheeks and refusing to look up in the mirror. She could scrutinize herself and all her flaws later. Right now, she just wanted to disappear.

She took a moment to collect herself before exiting the bathroom. Quietly sniffling as she walked down the hall, she held herself for comfort or else she’d fall apart.

“Hey! There ya are!”

Her heart stopped beating hearing his heavy boots approach her. This couldn’t be happening.

“Thought you ditched me. You weren’t tryin’ to run out on me, were ya, sweetheart?” he teased.

She tried to pick up her pace and keep her head down, praying he’d take the hint to leave her alone, but he easily stopped her by stepping in her path. His original words were stuck on his tongue when he noticed her distress, big tears welling in her eyes, “Hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

She sniffled, a sour taste forming in her mouth, “I-I appreciate the…date, but I think it’s better if I go.”

He blocked her attempt to step around him, “Whoa, whoa, hold on. Why are ya cryin?”

Anger bubbled up in her chest at his false ignorance, “Tell Gunpowder you owe him $100.” The statement stunned him, mouth hanging ajar in shock trying to think of what to say. “Next time you make a bet like that, make sure your fucking sidekick isn’t in earshot of your ‘date’,” she clenched her teeth to keep her voice from trembling.

She once again went to step around him, but his hand wrapping around her upper arm and swung her around to face him, “Wait, c’mon. Lemme explain, doll.”

She tried to pry her arm from his hold, but he was obviously too strong, “Let me go.”

“Just listen, will ya?“ he could hear her breathing become more shaky, heart rate picking up.

“I’m not listening to anything you have to say!” she choked, struggling to escape his hold, “You tricked me into thinking you actually wanted to go out with me. That you might have thought I was…attractive.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Ben asked astonished, “You’re sexy as hell!”

“Oh, spare me! Spare me the curvy comments or whatever bullshit you come up with! I’m just some fat ass you got paid to try and fuck, but it’s not happening!” the tears came full force now, insecurities exposed like an open would, “I’m so fucking stupid for thinking Soldier Boy would genuinely find me attractive at all.”

Suddenly, she was pushed up against the nearest wall, his growl rumbling down the empty corridor. Both his hands had her shoulders pinned, their chests only inches apart. “You gonna listen, or keep bitchin’?” the look in his eyes was dark. She was frozen in place at the show of strength and aggression. She didn’t wanna listen, but what choice did she have?

“Yeah, I made the bet. Made it so limp dick motherfuckers like Noir couldn’t get to your sexy ass before me,” he rasped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” she argued, “Nobody thinks I’m sexy.”

“Says who?” he quipped.

Her eyes cast down to the eagle on his chest, “Everyone.”

“Oh really? Everyone?” Ben suddenly took her hand and pushed it against the front of his pants. He chuckled and smirked at her wide eyes and small gasp, “Might wanna tell my dick that, honey. He clearly didn’t get the memo.”

He could hear her heart race soar, blood pumping faster to pink her cheeks and roar in her own ears. She looked at him in disbelief. “This sexy body of yours has been drivin’ me nuts!” he groaned, “You know how hard it was not to bend you over that table, lift that lil’ dress up, and fuck you raw? Fuck you like a woman should be fucked?”

Her breathing had turned to desperate pants the more he spoke.

“I’m a greedy motherfucker, baby. When I want something, I get it. Right now, I wanna touch every part of ya that you don’t like and tell ya why it’s my favorite,” his lips pressed against her ear, trailing down her neck, “I know what looks good on a woman’s body. Yours would look better naked and under mine.”

“B-Ben…please,” she gasped, clutching the sheets between her fingers.

His reply was the obscene sound of him slurping at her overstimulated pussy. The man had been making out with her weeping center for what felt like hours. The orgasms were beginning to melt together making her brain turn to mush. Ben planned to worship her body head to toe. He stood her in front of a mirror and told her to point out all the things she thought he wouldn’t like.

When she tried to look away from her reflection, he gently wrapped a hand around her jaw and made her look, “Nuh uh. Do as you’re told.”

He saw her eyes glance down, “M-My thighs. They h-have s-stretch marks. They’re t-too big.”

Ben was quick to spread her out on his giant Alaskan king bed to leave his mark on her plush thighs. He could have stayed down there for a few more hours if his cock wasn’t aching to be inside her. It was when he pulled away to let her catch her breath did she notice the ceiling was actually a mirror. A surprised gasp passed her kiss swollen lips seeing Ben’s back muscles flex between her spread legs. Her body felt too heavy to move, so she closed her eyes.

“No,” his voice was stern, “That mirror’s there for a reason, baby. Look at yourself, or I’ll stop.”

A pathetic whine came from her throat that was unrecognizable before she opened her eyes. She watched as he traveled up her body, his broader one obscuring the view of herself. She cried out when he harshly sucked and bit at her breasts. Her hands locked into his hair as she arched into his mouth. Ben made sure to kiss every stretch mark he found before leaving a deep bruise in the shape of his mouth and teeth. He pulled off of her with a pop before switching their position.

Before she knew it, she was laid on top of him, legs resting on either side of his to keep her spread out. She could see in the reflection his dick hard and leaking, twitching when he rutted his hips up to coat it in her slick. Ben wrapped an arm around her under her breasts to keep her in place as his free hand lined his tip up with her entrance. The way he was manhandling her had her lust skyrocketing. She never thought a man would be able to dominate her like that until now.

“Fuck! You’re beautiful,” he growled in her ear as his tip finally slipped inside.

She moaned and tried to move her hips down to sink more of him inside. The arm around her torso held her still, “Patient, sweetheart. Just keep watching.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, the green in his had turned black with desire. Ben nibbled her earlobe and neck as he sunk himself deeper inside until his tip kissed the back of her cervix. A mix between a strangled cry and whimper came out of her mouth as he stretched her out. She struggled not to let her eyes roll back into her head as he began to move. Unable to control himself, Ben started fucking her with purpose. Deep, hard thrusts nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. He watched as her eyes moved between his flexing arm around her and where his dick disappeared inside her.

“See? Look how pretty you are, baby? These pretty tits,” his hands suddenly cupping both of them in his hands, squeezing harshly, “This soft body. Those thick thighs. All of it. All of you gets me so fucking hard.”

She moaned, unable to look away from their reflection now. She was mesmerized by his words and the way his length brushed against that sensitive spot inside her. Every time he hit it, she saw stars. Ben attacked it like it was his mission. Desperate babbling rolled off her tongue as he fucked her with intense purpose. Her brain had officially shut off, too drunk on lust to give a damn about something like insecurities.

His groan vibrated against her back when her walls started clenching down on him, “Cum for me, beautiful. Ya gonna watch? I know I am.”

The band tightened, and tightened, and tightened, so close to the end but not quite there. She cried out in desperate frustration catching Ben’s attention. His right hand left her breast and trailed down her plush stomach until he reached her clit. He circled the little wet pearl with his middle finger in time with his thrusts. She screamed at the overstimulation and came, squirting all over their thighs and the mattress. Ben kept going, drawing out the electricity coursing through her until her hips started jerking away from his hand.

“One more,” he ordered.

“C-C…can’t!” she babbled.

“Oh you’re gonna, baby. I’m ruinin’ this pussy if it’s the last thing I do,” he growled.

He snapped his hips hard, slamming into that gummy spot and making her squirt again. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Her eyes finally looked away to roll into her head, tremors wracking her body as she fell apart. Ben shoved himself as deep as he could when he came. “Fuck!” he moaned as he kept rutting into her until he was completely spent.

She felt like she was floating, barely able to string together a conscious thought. Her body buzzed in the aftershocks of the incredible orgasms he’s wracked her body with. He carefully shifted them to lay on their sides, spooning her and not daring to pull out. He smirked at her trembling body in his arms. “Just relax,” he kissed her temple before glancing up at the mirror, “Good girl. Told you I’d look good on you.”

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amxritt · 2 days ago

Text

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

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solbaby7 · 3 days ago

Note

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

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cassianaries · 2 days ago

Text

Under the Gilded Lens - Luigi Mangione x reader

Synopsis: Luigi and Y/N had very different upbringings. Luigi went to a prep school, comes from a wealthy family. Y/N's life is the opposite of that. They never had a problem before navigating how different their upbringings, but when Luigi takes Y/N as a plus one to a Gilman alumni event, she starts to feel out of place and like she doesn't belong.

Warnings: Swearing, classism, fluff.

Word Count: 1,594

Y/N was getting over stimulated in the changing room at the department store, she had to have tried on at least a dozen of them, none of them were right. Luigi had informed her that his prep school, Gilman, was having an alumni night and he wanted her to accompany him. Luigi, being the planner that he was, told her enough time in advance about the event.

But Y/N being who she is, procrastinated till the last second about buying a dress for the event. Every time she tried to think about what she should fear to a fancy prep school alumni night, she would get overwhelmed and push it to the back of her mind. She regrets doing that now, as she stood in front of the full length mirror, twisting her body back and forth, in the last dress.

It was a black velvet floor length fitted gown, that was off the shoulder and long sleeved. She felt confident in it, but she wasn't sure. She had never been to an alumni event, let alone for a prestigious school. She wasn't sure if she was doing too much or not enough.

She was sure some would be sporting the most expensive and luxurious, not that she cared about gaining their approval or fitting in necessarily, she just didn't want to embarrass Luigi. This was his old prep school, where he graduated as valedictorian and gave a speech.

Maybe there was a little part of her deep deep down that wanted their approval. Luigi wasn't like them he didn't care about having the fanciest clothes, shoes, or displaying wealth in anyway. But this was Luigi's life, this is where he came from, how he grew up. When she met his family and his extended family a year into their relationship, she was excited.

It went well, his mom and dad were very kind and welcoming, they made her feel like she was a part of the family. His sisters were kind, asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. Some of Luigi's aunts and uncles were a bit passive aggressive when talking to her. When they asked about her profession and she responded they gave her a patronizing smile and replied with a pat to her shoulder, "Luigi has always had such high standards, you must be very special".

She could see it in their face when she talked about her upbringing her attending public school her whole life, working two jobs to pay for her public university degree, and her humble profession that wasn't traditionally seen as "important" like being a doctor or engineer. That night did change something in her, it ripped at her self-esteem, it made her feel like she wasn't good enough for Luigi. She never really told him about the conversations because she didn't want to cause issues between them and his family.

When she was away from his family, she forgot about the feeling, but when she was near them, the feelings resurfaced. Luigi never made her feel like she wasn't good enough, if anything, he motivated her. He is always the first to celebrate her successes at work like when she got a promotion, he brought home flowers and dessert. He is her biggest cheerleader.

As she continued to examine the dress in the mirror, she facetimed Luigi to get a second opinion. When he responded he was laying on the couch in their apartment, a huge smile on his face.

"Hey baby, how's the shopping going? Did you find a dress?" he asked.

Y/n flipped the camera so that it was now showing her body. "What do you think of this one?" she asked.

Luigi sat up at full attention to examine the dress and give an opinion, "W-wow, I love it you look beautiful Y/N".

Y/N blushed and sighed in relief because she did not want to spend any longer in the department store. "Are you sure? Is it appropriate for a Gilman alumni event?"

"I think so, I don't think there's a dress code," he said.

"I just don't want to stick out like a sore thumb," Y/N said.

"You're definitely going stand out," he replied flirtatiously wiggling his eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Okay, I'm getting the dress. See you in a bit Lu." He laughed at her reaction and said, "Bye beautiful!"

*************

Y/N and Luigi were in the car on their way to the alumni event, Luigi had his hand on Y'N's thigh as he drove. She had been silent the entire drive. He squeezed her thigh gently to get her attention, "Are you alright? You've been quiet." he said. She looked over at him, he looked so handsome dressed in his suit. He had a concerned look on his face as he turned his head to pay attention to the road. "I'm fine, just a bit nervous, you know how I get at gatherings." she replied softly reaching to grab his hand and intertwine their fingers.

He brought her hand to his mouth kissing it, "I know, if you need to step out at any point, you give me the signal and we're out of there" he replied.

"What's the signal?" she asked.

"How about itching your nose?" he responded.

"Yeah let me just pick nose in front of all your former classmates and teachers, that'll be a great first impression," Y/N replied sardonically "Maybe the signal could be me telling you I want to leave."

"Perfect," he said a smirking.

********

They had been at the event for about 45 minutes now, Luigi had introduced you to his former classmates, who were quick to share embarrassing stories about Luigi during his time at Gilman. Y/N was having a great time, everyone was nice and very welcoming. She didn't feel like she was out of place, they weren't snobs or turning up their nose at her. That was until she met a former classmate of Luigi's named Bradley, who began asking questions about where you went to school. A small group had formed, Bradley and his date, a beautiful blonde who when Y/N smiled at her, looked her up and down, and looked away as if she weren't standing in front of her.

A few other former classmates who were on the robotics team with Luigi. "I actually went to a very different school than Gilman's, we didn't have all these fancy clubs and facilities that you all have," she replied. Bradley asked, "Well, what school did you go to?" he asked. Y/N stumbled a bit on her words now feeling the weight of everyone's stares, "I-I went to a public school, we didn't have very many clubs or opportunities that you guys had, you guys are lucky. It must be nice to have had that experience." Y/N replied. Bradley snorted, "I guess, it's not that big of a deal. But wait till you see the toilets their self-flushing, I bet your public school didn't have that."

Luigi saw Y/N's face fall as she turned to leave, not before she heard him call Bradley a "fucking dick". Y/N made her way to the car and could hear Luigi right behind her. She went to open the door, but he stopped her. "Baby, I'm sorry he said that. He's always been an asshole even when we were at school together." She just shrugged her shoulders, "It's fine, I'm used to it at this point." she replied. Luigi pushed her chin gently upwards so that he could look at her, "What do you mean you're used to it?" he asked. Y/N told him about how she felt and what was said by his extended family to her, Luigi was patiently listening to her as she told him everything.

"Lu, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to be with you. That you deserve to date another person who did the prep school thing, who has an important and well-respected career, and who went to an ivy. That's not me, I'm not that. I'm not a part of your world, I don't fit in." she let out the breath she'd been holding, it felt good airing this out and expressing how she felt.

"I don't want to date someone who grew up like me. Even growing up around this, I never felt like I fit in with them even back then. Baby, I love you so much. Don't let these assholes make you feel like you're not important or that you don't deserve to be here, you do. I am so lucky that I get to call you mine, I want you and only you. You are important, what you do is important, and I don't care if you grew up rich or not. That shit doesn't matter to me." Luigi rubbed his thumb back and forth across her cheek and leaned down to kiss her lips, softly and slowly.

He pulled away, smiling down at her. "You are so intelligent-" kiss "You are so kind" - kiss "You are important" -kiss "You are beautiful" -kiss "I am so lucky" -kiss "That I" -kiss "Am in your life" -kiss "And I am so lucky that I get to call you mine" -kiss.

"I love you Y/N" whispered.

"I love you Luigi" you whispered back.

He kissed you one last time, rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip, the biggest smile plastered on his face and he admired you. "Let's get the hell out of here."

#luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione #luigi #luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione request #luigi mangione blurb #luigi mangione fanfic

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venti-tangents · 2 days ago

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General Rafayel Relationship Headcanons

F!MC, no use of Y/N. These are based on my interpretation of the text in Love and Deepspace

sfw

1. His works contains traces of his MC almost everywhere. Rafayel is known for not drawing humans, but that doesn’t stop him form incorporating his lover in everything he creates. Those who look closely will find the flow of the painted ocean to be similar to the flow of her hair, the colours of the fish lifted directly from her wardrobe—Rafayel’s devotion is clear in his paintings, for all to see.

Intertidal zone reveled a lot about how Raf gets inspiration for his craft—and how much of it comes form his MC (sometimes to the point where it concerns him)

2. He wants be around his lover at all times. They don’t have to be talking, touching or even directly interacting—just her presence is enough for him.

3. Cuddliest boyfriend on the planet. I think it takes a bit for his super cuddly side to come out, but when it does, he is almost always attached to his MC. He’s addicted to her warmth, and loves how soft she feels in his arms. Perhaps a small, yet ever growing part of him feels as though she will never forget him again, so long as he can keep her in his arms.

I just know that the MC and Rafayel are most annoying couple you know, if the recent event stories are anything to go by lol. They’re all over each other all the time

Abyssal Chaos gave us rafmc cuddling in front of a window, Tailwag Obsession gave us rafmc cuddling on the floor with a cat by their side, the list goes on and on

4. Banter never ends with this guy. No matter how long him and his MC have been together. On the other hand, long, philosophical discussions are also common place.

5. Raf can canonically sense his MC’s emotions. I read him to be incredibly emotionally mature, and knowing of what his MC needs, and how to provide it to her.

In many of his 4 star audio cards, Raf is shown taking care of MC emotionally. He pulls back when she needs quiet (Rainbow Strokes), is pushy when she’s hesitant, is reassuring when she feels insecure (flowery words). He pulls her out of the house when she’s down(sparkling traces), he lulls her to sleep when she needs him to (sleep aid, memory replay)

6. On the flip side, I think Rafayel loves to be pampered. He melts so easily when his MC provides him with reassuring words and actions (Omniscient perception, intertidal zone, sea god event story).

7. This is a bit of an underdeveloped thought in my head, but Rafayel has a rather possessive side, as shown in his most recent stories. The lumarian words he uses to describe his feelings for the MC literally translates to “You’re mine,” and he talks a lot about leaving his “mark” or “colour” on her.

I think he also likes being claimed by the MC—he wants her to possess him just as much as he possesses her. I wonder if part of this comes from his fear of taking too much from the MC, wanting too much from her, so her being possessive over him calms those fears

nsfw

1. I used to think of Raf as a switch top, but as I learned more about him, I would say he’s mostly a vanilla (no power exchange) verse (tops and bottoms/ gives and receives).

In other words, I think him and his MC don’t really exchange power in their dynamic outside of the sea god - devout follower bond. I think they’re very back and forth about giving and receiving, leading and following in almost every interaction they have.

When him and his MC do decide to play with power dynamics in bed, I think he leans towards taking the dominant role; as much as I love subby Raf, I can’t recall a time in the game where he *truly* summits to MC (in the context of bdsm dynamics). Even when the MC attempts to take control, he flips the dynamic the second she falters. Even when she ties him up (ie. Tipsy Invitation, Promised Wildfire), he makes demands of her in a way that goes further then provocation.

I’ve spoken on this before, back when gem affection came out, but I think Rafayel gets off on “turning the tables” on his lover. Very siren like of him

2. Body worship. He’s absolutely enamored with his lover’s body, obsessed with every part of it. He’ll leave kisses everywhere, so that even if his lover forgets him, her body will never forget his touch

On the other hand, he would love to have his body worshiped too. He wants his lover’s touch *everywhere*, to the point where he finds himself feeling the ghost of her lips all over his body long after their last encounter. In the moment, it serves as a reminder of her obsession with him, that his devotion is reciprocated. He is a god after all—what’s the job of a devout follower if not to worship her god.

3. Scent Kink. He’s OBSESSED with how his lover smells.

4. The biggest tease to ever tease. Off the top of my head, I think of fiery undercuts, but he’s a huge tease in all of his cards

5. I read Rafayel as an incredibly passionate lover. I think to him, intimacy is sacred—it’s not just pleasure to him, but rather him and his lover surrendering themselves to one another. It’s deeply romantic to him, and an exercise in trust

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yeeterthek33per · 3 days ago

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It's Warm and The Charms-a-workin' (Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir x Reader)

A/n Requested. Gettin back into it, y'all (again)

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, Swearing, Gay. (Idk)

"I swear it keeps getting nicer every time I come back here."

A few heads turn your way with curious gazes at the newly deboarded woman barely wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt, jacket and jeans, gazing around with a warm smile despite the severe chill swirling around the country for the Christmas holidays.

"C'mon you, their waiting at the gate for us, they've been asking when I'm going to bring you back to Iceland. You know sometimes I think they love you more than me."

Your girlfriend shakes her head fondly, taking your hand and dragging your somehow hot running self up the stairs into the terminal from the freezing cold outside, occasionally passed by a rushing flightgoer with small apologies for brushing past in the narrow walkway.

The sun was just starting to crest over the horizon, showing itself finally in its short daily visit over Reykjavik, the early morning flight from Germany to Keflavík and then Reykjavik allowing you enough time to land during daylight hours.

Not that you minded the evening hours in Iceland.

The place was beautiful this time of year, or even just in general but having constantly running festive lighting all year round was certainly a plus.

The airport hustle around you feels somewhat familiar to the one in Munich as your hand tightens in Glódís' to hold her closer to you as you move around the crowd, eventually spotting the familiar faces of your (you're hoping) future in-laws.

Viggó and Magnea both approach you with warm smiles, quickly bringing you in for hugs each, rapid greetings to you and their daughter who's amused look of "Told-you-so" makes you chuckle.

"Quickly, We need to get home before the sun goes down, we have some places to take you to."

"Of course, I'll grab our suitcases and meet you outside the terminal if you go find the car?"

You turn to Glódís, nodding towards the arrivals baggage claim.

"Okay, call me if you get lost again."

The small smirk on her face makes you roll your eyes and huff at her playfully.

"I will not. Now stop it."

She chuckles.

An antic look on her face and your surprised by a very sudden slap to your butt and you jump, nearly swearing at the loudness alone and a soft glare back her way.

"Well get moving!"

Glaring harder at the Icelander, you rather swiftly reprimanding her.

"Damn it, Gló, not in front of your-"

Her parents look back, amused at how quickly you shut your mouth, flustered.

Magnea nudges the ginger towards the door with an amused smile on her face, leaving you to grab the packed bags.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Glódís."

The last thing you hear in the loud airport from them is Glódís' soft giggle as they exit, leaving you staring at the luggage conveyor's entrance to the arrivals lobby.

Standing in silence as you take in the warmth of the air conditioning, blasting through the large building, battling against the ever present cold threatening to overwhelm the area through the ever open automatic doors.

Given how busy Munich always is, it surprises you how much you seem to relax in the busy-ness of Reykjavik.

Maybe it's in the way you find yourself thinking about what you're doing during the trip here for the week.

Maybe it's the thought of the long conversations ahead, constantly going over how to word your one question to the girl you love's parents.

Maybe it's a bit traditional and outdated of you.

Maybe it's something you know she won't be mad about you asking.

You'd talked about marriage before, long before now, back when you were still acclimating, still just friends with the woman.

She'd said marriage was something she wanted in the future.

That whenever it happened, it happened.

You thank the lord every day that you'd gotten an answer that day because any other day would've definitely scared the poor woman off given how quickly you'd both gotten together within your first seven months at the club.

Regardless, she wanted marriage, the question was, does she want it with you?

It's a nervous thought, it makes you tick every day you spend with her because you find yourself falling head over heels in love with this woman.

The fact you even have those doubts worries you.

You're so comfortable with each other, there's no part of her you don't know already.

There's no part of you that she doesn't know or at least have an idea of by now.

She knows your ticks, your nervous habits, your expressions, even somehow conquering the art of your weird southern sayings.

Lord, she knows what you're about to say before you say it.

It takes all of a single look and she knows how you're feeling before you do.

The best part is, it was all so easy to settle into, it wasn't slow, it wasn't fast, just the right speed for you to fall for each other.

The domesticity.

And that's when you realise that your fears shouldn't be fears at all.

The fact Glódís hasn't run away from the domesticity tells you everything.

Why stay comfortable with that if she wasn't in it for the long haul, right?

Not to mention she's been talking a lot about your teammates weddings and...

Oh.

She's been hinting this whole time.

Oh shoot.

She's been hinting this whole time and you've missed it- and you're about to miss the brightly coloured suitcases belonging to you and her travelling past you on the conveyor for the fourth time.

Swiftly grappling onto the straps of the bags, you wheel them out to the carpark, your previous thoughts ringing through your head and you spot the Toyota belonging to Viggó pulled up closer to the carparks entrance.

Glódís looks from her watch held up towards her face, giving you a teasing smile as you walk towards the car.

"Took your time, hey?"

"C'mon, you know they take an age gettin' the bags loaded onto the conveyor. I did NOT get lost."

The cheeky smile on her face as she presses a soft kiss to your cheek makes you pout, and she chuckles, grabbing the bags from your hands to lug them up into the trunk.

The drive back to Kópavogur is shorter than you expected, surprised at so little traffic on the way back to the large town where the woman sitting leant on your shoulder grew up.

Her warm breath puffing against the skin of your neck as she watches you take in the surroundings of the roads through the car window, relaxes you.

The whole time you spend watching car after car go past, the buildings occasionally towering over the highways and side roads remind you of your time back in Portland.

You notice the slowing puffs of air against you, and the woman on your shoulder falls asleep there before the end of the trip, having been awake long before the majority of the trip over here began.

Carefully holding her head there, your hand rests on her face, and shifts to her knee, and you make eye contact with her father in the rear vision mirror, who smiles at the sight behind him.

Ever the protective father, his smile at you stems from the place where he knows his stubborn, intelligent and strong daughter has found someone who'll protect her in even the smallest moments without question, and with no words spoken, gives you a small nod, which you smile softly at and return the gesture.

Upon arrival, you gently stir the woman with a kiss to the forehead and a couple nudges, helping her from the car with a hand down and a wink, which she accepts with a small grin, plus a chuckle from Viggó which earns him a slap to the shoulder from his wife, something to the effect of "Leave them be." exiting the woman's mouth.

Not that you pay him much mind, your eyes locked on your girlfriend who's currently leading you and your suitcase over to her childhood home, her spare key already in hand.

The house is a warm, two story building, with an older brick touch compared to the modern surroundings you'd seen.

The small yard out front neat and clean and from the glimpse you get of the backyard over the side wooden fence, the same goes out there.

Though an old children's swing set and occasional small toys linger out in the grassy snow still, seemingly left there as a memory of the growth of the woman currently holding the thick wooden front door open for you and the older couple.

You step aside to gesture in only for them to practically push you in themselves, insisting guests first.

The house is still warm on the inside, the snow not making it past the concrete path and stoop, a drastic change in temperature for your now Munich accustomed self, much used to the warmth of the ranch you grew up on.

The inside is just as neatly kept as the yards, exceptions made for their home to look lived in, reminding you of your own.

You like a clean home but nobody loves a place not lived in.

It's perfect and you missed it, saying so out loud out of gratitude to your girlfriend's parents for letting you stay there.

"The place is beautiful as always, Ma'am."

Magnea chuckles, patting you on the shoulder as she moves past you to drop her bag by the entryway on the table.

"Thank you, Y/n. You know how I feel about being called that, though."

Your cheeks turn a soft pink, apology on the tip of your tongue until you get an amused pointed look from the older Icelander.

"Habits die hard."

Rubbing the back of your neck, you move to put your suitcase up in the room where Glódís has disappeared to, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and pulled to a corner of the kitchen by the older pair, voices hushed as they gesture for you to come closer.

"You got it, right?"

Back straightening, eyes widening in surprise, you stutter softly.

"Got w-what?"

"Oh come on, no need to hide it from us, we can see that look anywhere."

Glancing back and forth between them, Viggó's eyes in particular watching your own as they flicker trying to work out if they mean what you think they mean.

"Yes, that. Did you find one for her?"

Swallowing, you nod.

"Yeah, but how-"

"How did we know? Please. It's obvious."

Magnea is quick to ease the panicking look in your eyes.

"Not so obvious as for her to know it's happening but we know an approaching proposal when we see it. Especially when you suddenly start getting nervous around us. Your girlfriend's parents."

Viggó nods.

"You've got something to ask us, right?"

You hesitantly nod, going to open your mouth.

"Well don't."

Oh shoot. They don't approve. This is bad.

"We're not the ones you should be asking. Nobody but our daughter needs to be asked."

Oh.

"I completely understand, but it's just something we've discussed previously, and coming from how I grew up, even if I wasn't planning on taking much account of the answer, it's still nice to ask and-"

"And we completely understand, we know our girl would say yes to you in a heartbeat regardless of our answer, and she knows well that we know she wouldn't listen to us if we said no anyway, but our answer will be the same regardless because it's not us you're asking."

Viggó's hand tightens on your shoulder.

"You've shown how much we can trust you with our little girl, even though she's not little anymore, she's our baby, and you've proven how much you love her. And we'll always say yes to the one who protects her and loves her like you do."

Nodding, your eyes tear up a little, a wide smile crossing your face.

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that. And yes, I love your daughter more than anything. And she's given just as much back, more than me actually. I owe her so much and I wanna spend the rest of my life giving that back to her."

"Good, we know you will. In the mean time, you should probably go upstairs, lord knows she's dying to ask you about the conversation we just had."

You chuckle, nodding in agreement.

"Don't forget to show us later!"

Magnea calls up after you on your way up the stairs and at this point, the pink in your cheeks crawls up to the tips of your ears, which you practically have to smack away before you enter through the half closed door of the now rearranged bedroom.

Instead of the old bed there, it's been switched out for a larger queen size, though her old posters and dresser still remain, wanting to preserve her teen years yet again.

The woman is sat twiddling her thumbs on the mattress pretending like she hadn't just been attempting to listen down the hallway, not unlike her younger years when her parents had hushed conversations away from prying ears.

"Cute baby. You're not subtle, though."

Groaning, she flops back on the bed.

"Take that as you won't tell me?"

"Mm, no. You'll find out later. Just some stuff about our plans for the week."

The red head pouts up you as you sit on the mattress beside her dramatically limp body.

"Nothing? Not even a little hint?"

She reaches up, her thumb and forefinger held up in your direction indicating a small gap.

Laughing, you move her fingers together, closing the gap altogether.

"Nada, beautiful. Nothin'. You'll be fine. You, missy, need a lil' patience."

Leaning over, you press kiss after kiss to her face, finally shifting to her lips, silencing her soft grumbles turned giggles, her hands moving to remove your beanie, tangling in your loose long hair, tucking it back behind your ear as you smile down at her.

"Alright, alright. No more plotting with my parents, though. Those two won't tell me anything either, this is so not fair."

Chuckling you poke her nose.

"No guarantees, sorry."

Another soft pout that you kiss away, being pulled back in for a longer softer one, her grip on the back of your neck loosening to let you pull back a few centimetres.

"Now c'mon, we're losing daylight and your parents have stuff still planned for us."

Much to the chagrin of your girlfriend, she finds you constantly having quiet words with the two throughout your walk around the city, occasionally glancing her way with loving, encouraging eyes.

It's driving her mad trying to work out what's happening, not used to being this excluded from conversations, but she let's it happen, knowing it's just you bonding with the pair, remembering how nervous you'd been to meet them the first time around.

----

"Baby, relax, they'll love you."

Your hands grip the armrests of the middle seat on the plane tightly, knee bouncing slightly, much to the annoyance of the seat occupant on your right.

"I know but it's the first time I'm meeting anyone of my partners' parents, let alone yours, Gló."

Her expression softens at the genuinely stressed look in your eye.

She's never given you reason to be nervous, talking about the times her dad had proven time and time again that he wasn't as much of a threat as he liked to present.

Then again, maybe that was the point.

You didn't wanna disappoint the man and woman who'd raised the woman you'd fallen so hard for.

A hand loosening your curled fist and tangling fingers with yours makes you look at her finally, eyes cautiously meeting hers.

"Baby, they love you already, I don't know how many times they've asked me to bring you home for the winter break. There's no possible way they don't love you."

"But what if I don't live up to what they expect to see?"

Her hands cup your face, and your knee finally stops it's vibrating harshly against the carpeted floor of the plane.

"They expect you to be you, not anyone else. They don't expect anything because they wanna meet you, the human being who's behind all the love and time you've given me that I've told them about."

Biting your lower lip, you nod slowly, taking slower breaths to calm yourself as the plane begins it's descent into Reykjavik.

"Okay, I can accept that."

She nods in agreement, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, settling properly back into her seat, ready for landing as soon as possible to get to see her family again finally.

"Y/n! Finally, look at you! So strong and beautiful, isn't she, Viggó?"

Your cheeks flush at the praise from the blonde haired woman enveloping you in a surprisingly warm embrace for a first meeting, your eyes darting back and forth between the older woman and your very much amused girlfriend, who's holding back laughter at your reaction.

"Mamma, let the girl breathe."

The woman pulls back, holding you in her grip still, hands on your arms looking over you with a never wavering smile before turning you towards the now standing next to you older gentleman, Glódís' father.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir."

Holding out your hand, you go for a handshake only to have it half smacked away with an amused chuckle and hugged tightly by the much stronger than you anticipated older man.

"None of that formality, we're a hugging family here."

"Do I get my hugs, now, too?"

Having to remind her parents she's there teasingly, she's quickly enveloped by her mother, who presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Sorry, darling, she's so much more beautiful in person, why did you not tell us this?"

"Mamma, don't overwhelm the poor girl, she's about to combust."

"Magnea, dear, she's just met us, save the compliments for later."

Her dad chuckles, arm still around your shoulder squeezing you with a force only the excitedness of a dad meeting a new friend can.

"Yes, well, we're both very happy to have you here at home, now we have so much to do, let's get you both back to Kópavogur so you can rest up in time for it. We have so much to discuss."

----

And, lord, discuss they did.

Everything from your life in Germany right now down to every little adventure you had as a ranch owner's daughter.

Every horse you ever rode, every animal you cared for, everything you did as kid, they loved hearing about it. If it wasn't for the curious wonderment in their eyes, it would've felt like an interrogation.

All your girlfriend did was sit back, smiling behind every sip of her drink the whole time, more than happy to let you do the talking for once.

Her parents knew what she did already, they've seen her life, watched her games, it was nice to have someone take over for a while.

Of course, she didn't escape all of it, but she was letting you take the brunt of it for most of the trip, occasionally nudging her parents away from you for a little while to let you breathe.

Not that you minded any of it.

They were intense.

Hoo boy were they intense.

But it was nice and you enjoyed the feeling. Not that your own parents don't ask and talk to you, but it's different coming from people who aren't traditional southern farmers.

Your parents, albeit proud of how far you've come, don't quite find the excitement in your life that Glódís' parents do, and you find yourself appreciating that more than you want to admit.

This time around, though, it's less about your life growing up.

A lot about your national team games, a heck of a lot about the time you've spent with Glódís and more catchups from the last time about six months ago when you'd seen them in Munich.

It's just as the sun starts cresting back over the opposite end of the skyline when you realise you'd been talking for a good four hours at least.

From going to get food and some fresh groceries, to hanging out with Viggó while Glódís and Magnea went to go find coffee for the lot of you, which your aching tired body was practically begging for by the time the sun fully sets and the pair return.

Given how cold it is out, your girlfriend finds herself missing your warmth and eventually pulls you away from the pair long enough to tuck herself into your side, much to your amusement, given how you'd figured she'd be the one holding your shivering self, again, much to your surprise.

You grow up in one of the hottest places in the US and here you are taking the cold in one of the coldest countries on the planet like you were on a holiday in Ibiza.

Of which, if you looked down long enough at the red head who grew up in said cold climate (which Glódís would argue isn't even the coldest part of iceland, far from it) , you'd see the annoyed tick in her eye as she shivers her way under your jacket, gotten far too used to the mediocre temperatures in Germany.

The walk for the most part is quieter than the initial part of the day, both you and the other couple enjoying the sights of the night side of Reykjavik.

It takes until you hear and feel the constant yawns from the woman tucked into you that you finally mention that you should head back to the house for rest, given how little sleep the older woman had before you'd left.

She half protests, having been enjoying the stroll, but then she yawns again, and your amused smirk down at her makes her roll her eyes and concede, her parents leading you back to where you'd first started the walk.

On the drive back home, a couple things catch your attention, despite your eyes fighting to shut tight for the night wrapped up in the warmth of the a/c in the car and Glódís dead asleep on your shoulder on the way home.

One, there's a lot of city activity for... you check your watch with a soft expression of surprise.. six pm.

Two, driving slowly along a high pedestrian area, something out the window catches your eye quickly, feeling a soft giddy excitement you haven't felt since you'd first come to Germany and found the horses on the farm just next to where you were currently living on the outskirts of Munich.

Trotting happily along the snow ridden paths, a fluffy white Icelandic horse, strong and beautiful in it's journey. Beside it, another one, a deep brown in colour and attached to the rest of it.

Decorative reigns and a sleigh, designed in time for the Christmas holidays, and sat in said sleigh, a happily giggling couple gazing around at the slow falling snow that had begun about half an hour into your drive back home.

It gives you an idea.

----

You awake to an alarm you hadn't even realised you'd set on your phone, still not used to the limited daylight hours, instead of the creeping sunlight through the curtains, you can still see the vague flashing of Christmas lights outside the bedroom window.

Tucked into your side, your love groans softly, tugging you closer to her in an attempt at sheltering herself from the blaring notification going off on your side of the bed.

Finally, with bleary eyes, you attack the phone with enough hand that it stops ringing and you glance at the clock.

"9:00"

In a graceful attempt at trying to get your brain cells to communicate, you think it's nine pm with how dark it is out still and ignore the alarm you'd set before bed.

Within ten minutes, there's a soft peak of glare attacking the white snow out front of the house that sparkles up through the gaps in the blinds.

A soft mumble of, "You didn't close them all the way." huffed into the skin of your jawline as she presses tired kisses against your skin.

Finally, you turn and pull yourself close enough to the blinds to close them fully, a hand drags you back into the oven warmth of the blankets, curling into your chest once more, happily taking a few more minutes of sleep.

Then, a soft knock at the bedroom door awakens you again, this time to nearly full sunlight and a head of blonde hair poking in past the frame to your affirmation to come in.

Magnea smiles softly, shaking her head at the woman buried under ten layers of blankets barely visible to the outside world, and then your half of the bed half empty of said blankets and your form curled around the wrapped up lump.

"You two best be getting up, I swear, Germany has done that woman's sleep schedule no good."

You chuckle, half asleep still, but relent, managing to wrench your sleep shirt away from the iron grip of the defender, wrapping her up a bit tighter to let her sleep longer and tug on a pair of pants to join her parents downstairs, wanting to discuss with them the idea that popped into your head last night.

"You mentioned Glódís loved horses as a child, right? Or the Icelandic ones, at least, am I right?"

Viggó nods, gesturing to a framed photo on the wall of a young strawberry blonde girl on the back of a saddled Icelandic horse, smiling gleefully, clinging to it's mane, face just about buried in it.

"Loved them, obsessed with them. We were convinced she'd become a farmer when she grew up but, well, football became an interest at a slightly older age than then. Why do you ask?"

"I think I know what I wanna do for the... you know."

Viggó slowly nods, a raised brow in your direction.

"You know I love horses myself so I figured this might work out perfectly for us. A Christmas sleigh ride. Maybe coordinated with dinner and well... a proposal."

Nodding thoughtfully, Magnea looks to her husband for a few moments and then grins.

"That sounds wonderful, she'll love it. She'd marry you no matter where but she'll definitely love this more than anything."

Humming, you take a sip of the coffee that Viggó sits down in front of you with a thank you and a grateful smile.

"I know we discussed the dinner by the coast but I just fell in love with those horses when I saw them last night, plus seeing those people, it just reminded me so much of us and-"

Soft, slow padding footsteps down the steps interrupt your sentence and your head perks up to watch the doorway, a tired looking Glódís wandering into the kitchen and you pass her your cup with a small smile and kiss to the cheek, knowing she preferred a slightly cooler coffee than straight from the pot.

"Good morning, Prinsessa."

There's a soft teasing in Magnea's voice, though it goes mostly ignored by her daughter bar the small amused eye roll.

"I'm so used to Germany now, my sleep schedule, my cold tolerance. I need to come back to Iceland before I retire, I swear."

"Sounds good to us."

A small chuckle and Viggó clinks his mug with his wife's.

You chuckle along with them.

"Considering I'm the American here, I genuinely don't understand how I have the better tolerance for the cold than you right now. I grew up in Texas, woman."

"Shush."

Poking your tongue out at her, you stand up to move towards the coffee pot, helping yourself to another cup, setting another brew on knowing this wouldn't be the last one of the morning before you all left to your business for the day.

Letting silence take over the room, you slowly drink the freshly poured beverage in your hand before it's sneakily snagged by the other woman, already having finished your previous coffee for you as is.

Luckily, you don't mind sharing your morning coffee with her if it means you get to see the cheeky, grateful smile on her face, and you get to receive the sweet peck she gives you afterward.

Her body slots against yours easily, cuddling into your side as she browses her Instagram while you glance over the local paper that's been sat on the bench since yesterday morning.

You haven't quite mastered the language, but you know enough to get by whilst going over the various little bits and pieces of the latest news in Kópavogur and Reykjavik.

The warmth in the moment has you melting into the domesticity and you find your heart racing a little as you glance down at the no longer phone occupied woman, instead noticing she's watching you.

Her eyes watching your expression, a cute little focused look on your face as you glance over the wording on the page.

The twinkle in your eye as you put each word together on the page with connection and context.

She loves how much effort you put into life with her.

Every little thing, from the language she grew up speaking to the way she enjoys her coffee to the exact temperature she takes her showers. You're unbelievably sweet to her, and she loves every bit of you for it.

Feeling her eyes on you, you turn your head in her direction with a soft smile.

"You 'kay, darlin'?"

Even that makes her heart flutter. She thought she might be used to it by now. The pet names, the little drawl. But no, here she is blushing at the littlest flirt from you.

She hums, pressing a soft peck to your lips nodding.

"M'fine. Perfect. Just thinking."

You shift, arms wrapping around the other woman's waste and she sets her cup down to not accidentally spill any.

"Thinkin' about?"

"You."

Raising a brow down at her, your hands shift to rest on her lower back, fingers intertwining to rest there.

"Yeah?"

She hums, straightening the no existent collar of your sleep shirt.

"And the fact you've been sneaky planning something for today with those two, and you've yet to tell me what we're even doing."

Her head nods to the pair sitting drinking and reading their papers at the kitchen table.

"Well that's the point ain't it? It's a secret, can't tell you til we get there."

A soft protest leaves her lips.

"But I don't even know what I need for today. What clothes do I wear? Do I need extras?"

Chuckling, you silence with another soft kiss.

"Warm clothes, preferably something comfy to walk around the snow in."

"That gives me nothing."

The soft whine from her lips elicits another chuckle from you.

"Like I said, you'll find out when we get there. Just relax for the day, we don't have anything to do for a good couple hours."

"But it'll be dark out then."

"That's fine, we can do something in the mean time if you want?"

"Do we have anything else planned?"

"Nope, whatever you wanna do."

There's a soft twitch in her brow that you know anywhere, that's her tell-tale sign to holding back laughter.

Sighing, you shake your head at her response.

"Not that. Cheeky. Good lord, your parents are right there, hush with that."

The response only makes her actually laugh.

----

It seems Glódís only wanted to spend the day with just you, thus allowing her parents to do what you needed from them and make a couple phone calls without suspicion.

Thus, you'd both taken a long walk into the city to look at some of the day shops.

You note she's eyeing up the local arcades and decide to steer her that way, cashing in some cards and spend the extra time racing between machines, both of your competitive streaks running free.

Between bragging about being able to get more kills than you in the zombie shooter, and you bragging about having better shooting skills in the basketball game, there's plenty of laughter between you and your heart skips several beats throughout the day watching her eyes light up with every win.

By the time you leave the arcade, it's with a couple arm fulls of prizes (mainly you carrying the majority at your own insistence, your girlfriend knowing you'd only stubbornly attempt to carry the lot if she argued any more).

The walk back to her childhood home takes you until well past sunset and exactly around the time her parents send you a message that you need to be back soon.

As soon as you both stumble in the door, much to the amusement of a patiently waiting Viggó and Magnea, both sat in the kitchen chatting quietly, you urge her to run the stuff upstairs and you stop by the kitchen to quickly go over everything once more.

You head upstairs, making sure to grab an extra jacket to bundle the woman and yourself up a bit more for the night weather.

"So do I get to-"

"Nope."

"Aw come on."

She's just about pleading.

"You'll like this one, promise."

The whole way there, she's chatting animatedly about some of the funnier moments of the day with her parents, so she doesn't put as much thought into the location of where the car stops as she would have.

There's a small lit pathway that leads between and over a small hill that she almost thinks she recognises but it's only when you encourage her to head up the hill first, sharing a quick grateful hug with her parents and them wishing everything goes to plan giddily.

The crest of the hill gives way to the sound of consistent crunches in the snow by occasional other people walking the area, mainly couples arm in arm, quietly chattering between them, soft giggles and huffed chuckles.

And then the occasional jingle of something she recognises to be Christmas style bells and she only realises what they belong to when she turns the corner at the bottom of the hill once again, you following closely with a small nervous smile and a new weight in your inner jacket pocket.

It's when she freezes, turning to you with a small smile like she's holding it back a little.

"Did you book us a sleigh ride?"

Nodding, you gesture towards the attendant at a small table by the building where there's a currently stationary sleigh, one horse being reigned up and the other being walked back into the stables away from the sight.

"Quite possibly. Go check it out."

She absolutely melts at the way you shuffle kick some snow, the bashful smile peaking out of your lips.

Walking back to you, she drags you in by the hand for a sweet kiss.

"I love it, let's go."

All but dragging you over to the attendant, you give them your name, and they nod, directing you over to the sleigh that's just being reigned up as you approach.

"But wait, where are Mamma and Pabbi, are they coming?"

"They had to book for later but there's a little extra after, now come on."

Easily guided up into the sleigh and handed a couple extra blankets, the horse moves out towards the tree surrounded path in the snow.

The Icelanders face is lit up the whole time, curled up into your side enjoying the ride, but gets confused when an attendant guides the sleigh off the usual path and down another less travelled path, sending you both a small wink and you do your best subtle thumbs up.

"Just that little extra I was talking about."

The path is lit nicely, and diverts down a small hillside through some trees, opening up beside a small frozen over lake with a small litup almost campsite area, chairs, tables and fairy lights strung up between the area.

The sleigh stops, the horse snorting, and huffing at the attendants waving hand to slow the sleigh.

Jumping out, you encourage the woman down into your arms,

The area is big enough that the attendant simply smiles, waves you both off and you trek down to a small table lit with the warmth of a couple campfires dotting the area, a single candle and some warm food sitting in thermos waiting for you.

A thick waterproof mat covered with a blanket lines the ground near the campfire, the warmth crackling and popping around the area.

Glódís watches in awe as you take her hand to sit her down at the table.

"Dinner is served, beautiful."

"This is so- how?"

Smiling knowingly, you nod towards the guy standing attending the horse back at the path.

"I had a favour to call in from the last time I was here. Remember that time I took off for couple hours those seven months ago for a couple days?"

Nodding slowly, she eyes you suspiciously, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I was helping him get a newly adult horse trained up for the rides. I'd been missing home a bit, so I figured someone would need some ranch-hand experience somewhere."

Melting at the starry look in your eye as you eye up the majestic creature currently huffing and puffing as the guy gets into the sled and leads it back up the path, she grabs your cheeks with her gloved hands.

"I love you so fucking much."

You're smiling back at her so much it almost hurts, and you lean in pressing your now slightly cold lips to her mostly freezing ones, and she hums, taking in your warmth.

"Love you, too, Dream girl."

Finally, you sit down across from her at the table, popping open the steaming pots to see what looks to be some really nice stews and a flask of tea.

Humming softly at the warmth, you both tuck in, the woman across from looking at you with a soft sparkle in her eye, now, almost like she knows somethings up.

It's mildly spicy, and brings a warmth to your chest as you have a few spoonfuls.

Glódís practically melts into her chair across from you.

"I missed this. Stew in the winter is so good."

Smiling at her as you take another bite and swallow.

"Remind me to cook more when we get home."

It's not long before you're both sitting in silence and cuddled up on the blanket looking out at the slowly falling snowflakes now starting to blow in for the night.

She's curled up into your chest, just about falling asleep as she murmurs occasionally, chatting about little things.

Shifting slightly, a small crease in her brow as she almost frowns at the feeling a small object poking her through your jacket.

When you notice what's happening you nudge her to sit up.

"What's in your pocket ba-"

"Another part of this evening, actually."

Sitting back on your ankles, you reach into the inner pocket, pulling out a small object wrapped up in a square folded cloth, fiddling but not quite revealing the precious metal beneath the soft fabric.

"Gló, since the day we met, there's been something about you, something intriguing, something brilliant, something that drew me right in and had me obsessed with you. Admired you. Saw something in you that pulled every string in my heart just bein' near you."

Your girlfriend sits up, hair catching snowflakes as they fall, mild confusion crossing her expression as you talk, though it only takes seconds for her expression to melt and she's smiling up at you as you speak.

"You gave me something other than business as usual to look forward to. This beautiful, powerful, caring, strong woman leading the team with all the love and support in the world. You had me hook line n sinker. I had no chance."

"Even now, it's moments like these, I spend every moment thinkin' about how lucky I am to have you. In the quiet, peaceful moments away from the hectic life we live. I've spent my whole life chasing victory, chasin' the big life, chasin' dreams my parents or myself never thought possible because I was just a plain ol' ranch hand to be the moment I was born."

Her hand grips your non occupied one, fingers squeezing comfortingly around yours.

"Here you are, I found one of the best things to happen to me since that scout in Houston. You mean everything to me and you've given me everything I was never able to ask for out loud."

There's a shine to your eyes as you sniffle slightly.

"You make me feel so small yet so damn big. Small because I'm constantly in awe of everything you do, Big because you build me up in ways I'll never be able to wholly thank you for, you make me feel like I'm able to do anything with you there, which is why, here and now, I'm asking one thing aloud."

Shifting to one knee, letting the sides of the cotton cloth fall away from the top of the ring held between your thumb and forefinger, tears wavering on the very cusp of falling.

Looking into her deep brown eyes, sparkling in the fire light, tears brimming her own.

"You wonderful, beautiful, sweet, strong, caring, gorgeous, intelligent, fearless, breathtaking- did I mention beautiful?"

She giggles but it's half muffled as her hand moves to cover her mouth in disbelief and tears do start falling down her cold kissed cheeks.

"The Love of my life. Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir, will you let me spend the rest of our lives loving you, caring for you the way you have been for me, will you marry me?"

Waiting with baited breath, though it feels like forever, it's a second and she jumps on you, hands cupping your face to kiss you, falling back onto the blanket.

The air is sucked from your lungs, and you kiss her back just as hard, though the growing grins on both of your faces makes it hard to keep your composure.

She barely pulls back enough to give you a verbal answer, her hands tangling in your hair under your beanie.

"God yes. Hell to the yes. A thousand times over. Every life time, yes."

Your hand still clutches the ring like your life depends on it, afraid to lose it in the small tussle.

Forehead pressed tightly to hers, sucking in a shaky breath as you press the ring around and onto her finger, the platinum shining brightly, encrusted with gems along to top of the band, one sat peeking out at the top brighter than the others.

It's beautiful, it shines under the moonlight, sparkling between the two of you.

It's the best thing you've done so far.

It's perfect because you've spent so much time waiting for this and it's finally here.

It's perfect because it's Glódís.

And you wouldn't change a damn thing.

The kiss she pulls you in for as you both fall back onto the blanket, giggles, more tears and the warmth of the surrounding campfires, says all you need to know

She wouldn't change a thing either.

You, her favourite charmer.

You, the love of her life, the one who swept her off her feet and now hold her so close.

And you feel it in every kiss from that point on, too.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #glódís viggósdóttir x reader #glódís perla viggósdóttir x reader #glódís viggósdóttir imagines #glódís viggósdóttir imagine

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amoressb · 12 hours ago

Text

───── LIKE HIM ? 박성훈 P. SH

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ there are times where sunghoon wishes he was…like him ｡｡ bf!sunghoon x reader. angst , fluff & wc. 1.06k ; insecurity , reassurance , skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

the rain drummed softly against the apartment windows, it’s steady rhythm filling the quiet space. sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his elbows resting on the worn wooden surface, his hands clasped together. he stared down at his coffee, now cold and untouched, his thoughts heavier than the storm clouds outside.

your laughter carried faintly from the living room. you were on the couch, scrolling through your phone and watching videos. normally, the sound of your laughter eased sunghoon, made him feel like everything in the world was okay for a moment but tonight, it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.

sunghoon wasn’t blind to the differences between himself and your ex, eathen. he’s seen the photos on your social media—snapshots of eathen holding you close, planting kisses on your cheek, or wrapping his arms around your waist in public like he couldn’t bear to let you go. eathen had been open, warm, and effortlessly romantic. sunghoon… wasn’t. he loved you deeply, but he wasn’t good at expressing it in the same way. he didn’t instinctively reach for your hand in public or shower you with compliments.

he wondered if you missed that.

the thought gnawed at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. he pushed his chair back, the sound scraping against the floor, and stood. your head turned toward the sound, your face lighting up when you saw him. “hey,” you said warmly. “i was wondering when you were going to come join me.”

sunghoon hesitated in the doorway. “can we…talk for a second?”

your smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern. you put your phone down and sat up straight, patting the seat next to you. “of course, come here.”

he walked over slowly, sitting down beside you but leaving a small gap between. you noticed immediately and scooted closer, resting your hand on his knee. “what’s wrong?”

sunghoon looked down at your hand for a moment, then took a deep breath. “do you ever… wish i was different?” he asked quietly.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“like… do you ever wish i was more like eathen?” the words felt heavy in his mouth, but he forced them out. “he was so good at showing you how much he cared. he always knew the right things to say, the right things to do and i’m just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “i’m not like that. i’m not good at being affectionate and i know i come off as cold sometimes. i just… i don’t want you to feel like i don’t love you because i don’t show it the way he did.”

your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. you shifted closer, your hand moving to his cheek to gently turn his face toward hers. “hoon,” you said softly, “where is this coming from?”

he shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “i just… i think about it a lot. you deserve someone who can give you all those little romantic things. someone who’s warm and expressive and can make you feel loved all the time and i don’t know if i’m that guy.”

your expression softened as you listened. you let your hand drop to his, lacing your fingers with his. “hoon,” you began gently, “i don’t want you to be eathen. i don’t want you to be anyone but you.”

“but what if that’s not enough?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“it is,” you said firmly. “you’re enough. you think i don’t notice the way you show me you care? you do it in your own way and it means more to me than anything eathen ever did. you don’t hold my hand all the time, but you always make sure i’m okay. you bring me my favorite snacks when i don’t ask for them. you remember the things i say, even when i forget i said them. that’s love, hoon.”

sunghoon looked at you, his doubt still lingering but softened by your words. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. he stiffened at first, but your warmth was impossible to resist. slowly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and let himself relax into your embrace, his head resting on your shoulder.

“come on,” you murmured, guiding him to lie down on the couch with you. you tugged him gently until he was resting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions in a way that felt grounding.

he opened his mouth to protest, but you shushed him softly, your hand moving to the back of his head. “hust let me hold you for a bit, okay?”

he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into your touch. your fingers threaded through his hair, your other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back. you pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, then another, your lips lingering as if trying to imprint reassurance into him.

“you’re everything to me,” you whispered against his hair. “you don’t have to be anyone else. you don’t have to do grand gestures or say all the right words. just being here with me, like this, is all i’ve ever wanted.”

sunghoon’s arms tightened around you as your words washed over him, his chest aching in a way that felt both painful and healing.

“i love you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love the way you care, even when you don’t think it’s enough. i love your quiet moments, your thoughtfulness, the way you see me. you’re more than enough, hoon…always.”

he didn’t respond, but you could feel his breathing start to slow, his body growing heavier against yours as he began to drift off. you continued to rub his back and press soft kisses to his head, whispering sweet nothings into the quiet room.

“you’re my everything,” you said softly. “my home, my safe place.”

the rain continued to fall outside as you held him close, your love for him pouring out in every touch, every whispered word. sunghoon, for the first time in weeks, felt his doubts quiet, replaced by the steady beat of your heart beneath his ear.

as he fell asleep in your arms, he realized that maybe he didn’t need to be perfect. maybe just being himself was all you ever wanted.

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itsnesss · 14 hours ago

Note

heyy, could you write a jun-ho smut with a jealous reader (I didn't think of any specific situation), I'm sorry, english is not my first language 😭😭

I love your writing so much!!!

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you feel insecure and jealous during a dinner with jun-ho, especially when another woman approaches him. after an intense emotional moment, jun-ho reassures you in the restaurant bathroom. the scene ends with jun-ho asserting his dominance and claiming you publicly, leaving no doubt about your relationship

warnings | jealousy and possession, insecurity, smut, explicit content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, semi public

word count | 2.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The restaurant was filled with laughter and conversations. You could hear the clinking of wine glasses and plates being served in the distance, but everything seemed distant to you. Sitting at the table next to Jun-ho, you felt that, no matter how hard you tried to enjoy it, something didn’t fit. The atmosphere seemed lively, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. His coworkers were talking about topics you didn’t fully understand, and although you tried to follow the flow of the conversation, your thoughts always returned to one thing: her.

It was impossible not to notice. The girl, with her dark hair and melodic laughter, stayed close to Jun-ho the entire time. Every time he made a joke, she laughed louder than the others, casually touching his arm, as if they shared a complicity you couldn’t reach. Every time their eyes met, you felt as if the air around you thickened, as if the world suddenly shrank, leaving you alone in the middle of that crowd.

The focus of attention seemed to always be Jun-ho, but there was something in the way she got close to him that made you twist inside. It wasn’t just that they were talking; it was the way they looked at each other, as if they shared a secret history that you didn’t know.

You felt increasingly uncomfortable, like an intruder, and when she leaned toward him to say something, touching his arm again, you couldn’t stop an intense feeling of jealousy from taking over you. You felt stupid, but you couldn’t help it. Why did it bother you so much to see how they laughed together, how they got close, as if they were the only ones in the room?

Jun-ho, unaware of your thoughts, continued enjoying the conversation. His coworkers also seemed charmed by his presence. He was the center of attention, and you, even though you were sitting next to him, felt invisible. Was it always like this with everyone? So close, so natural? You couldn’t stop wondering what they had that you didn’t.

With your heart racing, you took a sip of wine, trying to calm down, but when you looked at the girl again, you saw her smiling, moving even closer to him. Something inside you exploded. You didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to keep seeing that scene. No matter how many times you told yourself you shouldn’t feel that way, the anxiety kept growing, taking over your mind and body.

You decided to stand up abruptly. You couldn’t stay there, feeling like the air was suffocating you. Jun-ho looked at you instantly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern as he saw you get up from the table.

You felt tense, your breathing irregular, but you tried to keep calm. You looked toward the hallway, feeling the need to get away.

"Just... need some air," you replied, your tone not very convincing, but enough for him not to insist.

Jun-ho stared at you for a moment, then stood up as well. Without a word, he followed you down the restaurant hallway. You didn’t want him to come, but you couldn’t stop him from taking your hand with a firmness that, although gentle, was impossible to ignore.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?" he asked as they walked. There was a hint of concern in his voice, but also something else. Was it jealousy that sparkled in his eyes? You didn’t know, but what you could feel was the tension in his posture, the way his steps became quicker as he noticed you pulling away.

"I just need to be alone for a moment," you replied, but you couldn’t stop your tone from sounding more curt than you had planned. Frustration was starting to surface, and the last thing you wanted was to show Jun-ho how insecure you felt at that moment.

Finally, the two of you reached a small secluded corner, where he stopped you gently, looking at you with an intensity that made you swallow. The distance you had tried to put between you both didn’t exist, and Jun-ho's closeness made you feel more vulnerable than ever.

"What’s going on?" he said, this time without the previous concern, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You couldn’t keep hiding it. The poison of jealousy coursed through you, and although you knew it wasn’t rational, you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

"It’s just... her... I can’t stop looking at her," you said, gritting your teeth, your gaze fixed on the floor. It was hard to look into his eyes, even though you knew he wouldn’t understand unless you said it. How could you explain that every time she got close to him, you felt like something in your chest was breaking?

Jun-ho remained silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, but there was a hardness you had never heard before.

"Are you getting jealous?" he asked, his tone so serious it almost made you regret speaking.

The blush appeared on your face instantly. You tried to find an exit, a way to take back the words you had just said, but the truth was, you couldn’t. That’s what you felt. No matter how silly it seemed, you couldn’t stop comparing yourself to her, to the way she seemed to have all of Jun-ho’s attention.

Before you could say anything else, Jun-ho took your hand and, without a word, led you to a nearby door. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this conversation hang in the air. He wanted you to clarify it, he wanted both of you to clarify it.

He led you to the bathroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click, and the sound of the others’ voices faded away. All that was left was the echo of your breathing, his and yours.

Jun-ho looked at you with unusual intensity. There was a different energy in the air, something palpable, and you could feel it in every fiber of your body. Something had changed in him too, as if the situation had brought out a more passionate, more possessive version of himself.

"I’m going to show you that I’m only yours," he said in a low voice, like a promise, as his fingers traced your face. Every word was a heartbeat, and his eyes wouldn’t let you escape.

Your chest sped up, and when his lips met yours, you couldn’t stop a wave of desire from flooding your body. The kiss was deep, urgently warm, and at first, all you could feel was his closeness, his body pressing against yours with force, as if he wanted to erase everything else from the world.

But it wasn’t just that. You could feel his hands on your body, touching you with a palpable need, as if he were finally claiming you, as if the jealousy had pushed him to prove that only you mattered. And in that moment, all you thought, all the insecurities you had felt, faded completely.

"Jun-ho..." you murmured between kisses, but you didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t necessary.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands found your waist, pressing you against him as his body moved with the same urgency you felt. His kisses were gentle at first, but they became more intense, more demanding. You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want anything to separate you from him in that moment.

Without thinking, his fingers found your dress, sliding underneath to caress your legs. You arched towards him, knowing there was no turning back. You wanted to feel his touch, his tongue in your throat, his teeth caressing your nipples. All you wanted was him.

Both of their breaths were heavy, they were both panting, but they couldn't stop. He gently spread your legs, and when his fingers found your wet panties, he couldn't help but let out a deep sound of pleasure. It was as if you had driven him crazy, but you didn't feel guilty. You wanted it that way. You wanted him to realize that only you could make him feel that way.

"You are so beautiful" he said between kisses, moving his tongue along your neck. His fingers found your pussy, pressing it gently.

"Jun-ho... Please" you murmured, but you didn't need to say more. He knew exactly what you needed.

With a softness that surprised you, Jun-ho slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them slowly. You could feel your inner walls caressed by his fingers, the warm touch, the movement so firm and confident, and before you could realize what was happening, your vagina began to contract. You clung to his shoulders, trembling with pleasure, and couldn't help but let out a moan.

Jun-ho continued moving his fingers, looking at you as your walls closed around them. The vision was so erotic, so exciting, that you felt like you were about to explode again.

"That's it, my love," he murmured, moving his thumb towards your clit. Come for me... Come to me, my love.

Your eyes closed and the orgasm took you on a journey of pleasure. You felt like you were flying, as if Jun-ho were the center of the world and you were surrounded by his energy. It was his touch that had brought you there, his finger pressing on your clitoris with softness but firmness, and you could do nothing but surrender to him.

It wasn't until several seconds later, when your breathing began to calm down, that you realized your panties were stained. But you didn't care. You couldn't be happier that Jun-ho had given you an orgasm in the restaurant bathroom, simply because you had made him feel jealous.

The idea was as erotic as it was sexy, and you didn't want it to end. You wanted to keep feeling his touch, feeling him inside you, as if it were possible to merge your bodies into one.

"I want to feel you inside me," you said softly, looking into his eyes. Jun-ho also seemed calm, but his pupils were dilated. You could see in them the need, the desire to fuck you.

Without a word, he lifted you off the ground and set you on the countertop. They were lucky that there was no one around at that moment, or the situation would have been even more embarrassing.

He pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion, revealing his hard cock. It was so beautiful, so big, so perfect. You desired her inside you, you wanted to feel her thickness, her warmth.

You didn't wait any longer. You lowered your panties and sat back on the countertop, spreading your legs so he could come closer to you. And that's exactly what he did.

He got between your legs, looking into your eyes as he placed the head of his cock at your entrance. You felt so wet that you knew he could slide in easily. And that's exactly what he did. He slid his cock into you with a smooth but firm motion, and you couldn't help but let out a scream.

"That's it," Jun-ho murmured between kisses, sliding his cock inside you. "You're so wet... You're going to like my cock, aren't you?"

You didn't respond. It wasn't necessary. You let his cock fuck you, let his touch take you to a wave of pleasure, while his fingers played with your nipples. And it didn't matter that you were in the bathroom of a crowded restaurant. The only thing that mattered was him, his body on top of you, his cock fucking you with such need.

"How does it feel?" you said in a whisper, arching towards him with each thrust—. How does it feel when you fuck me? What does it make you feel when you have me inside?

Jun-ho seemed lost in his own sensations, but upon hearing you, he opened his eyes again. He looked into your eyes with a burning intensity.

"It makes me feel powerful," he said in a very low voice, moving his hips so that his cock sank even deeper into you. It makes me feel like only I can do it, like only my cock can do it.

You felt yourself blush, but you didn't stop. You couldn't, you didn't want to. You wanted to listen more.

"And what does it make me feel?" you asked, tightening your walls around his cock. He let out a sound of pleasure, but continued speaking.

"It makes you feel like I'm yours," he replied in a firm voice. It makes you feel like you own my cock. As if only you deserved it.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to tell him that he was also your master. But you didn't. You couldn't speak, because at that moment, Jun-ho moved faster, thrusting his cock so deeply that you couldn't help but orgasm.

Yes, an orgasm, right there, in the bathroom of the most public place, with Jun-ho fucking you. And you couldn't complain. The sensation was so intense, so sexy, that you didn't want it to end. But Jun-ho seemed to know you were coming, because he moved harder, squeezing his fingers on your hips.

Your vagina contracted, and Jun-ho began to come. His muscles tensed, his breath stopped, and his cock emptied inside you.

Both were still, panting. You knew you should be ashamed, but you couldn't feel anything but pride. Pride in knowing that Jun-ho belonged only to you, and that he had shown it in the sexiest way you could imagine.

Finally, he pulled out of you and helped you down from the countertop. The semen began to spill onto your panties, but you didn't want to clean yourself. You wanted to take it home, feel its touch on your panties all day.

Jun-ho smiled upon seeing the expression on your face.

"Don't worry," he murmured, kissing you softly. I think you already understood. "You're jealous, and I'm going to give you something so you always feel secure. Okay?".

You didn't respond. You didn't need to do it. You knew that Jun-ho would always be there for you, but only for you. And that was more than enough.

After what happened in the bathroom, everything seemed different. The air between you and Jun-ho was charged with a new tension, something you had never experienced with him before. The words he had whispered to you in the middle of the kiss kept resonating in your mind: "I'm going to show you that I'm only yours." You felt yourself going crazy, every fiber of your being burning with the intensity of his caresses, but now there was something even stronger, a need you couldn't ignore.

When Jun-ho opened the bathroom door, the noise of the restaurant hit you full force, but it was no longer the same. Even though the others continued chatting and laughing, the world felt more distant than ever. You walked beside him, as if you were floating, and the only thing you could think about was what had happened between the two of you, what he had shown.

The curious thing was that, instead of trying to smooth over the situation or hide what had just happened, Jun-ho seemed even more confident about what had occurred. And as soon as they returned to the table, he made no attempt to separate from you.

As they moved forward, you felt more uncomfortable. Everything seemed to be happening at a different speed, as if everything around you were slowed down, while your body continued to vibrate with the electricity that Jun-ho had left in you. Your eyes searched for hers, but this time, you felt no fear, no jealousy, no insecurity. Jun-ho's dominance over you was so clear that, for the first time, you felt completely secure.

The place was lively, but when they reached the table, something in the atmosphere changed. Everyone seemed so busy with their conversations that they didn't notice the immediate change in the interaction between you and Jun-ho. However, what happened next made it clear that he no longer intended to hide what was between the two of them.

Jun-ho sat down again, but this time, he didn't let you sit next to him like before. No, this time he took your hand, guiding you onto his lap without hesitation. The murmurs at the table faded as he, with a fixed and dominant gaze, drew you closer, as if ensuring that no one could question who you were to him.

Everyone's eyes turned towards you, and in that moment, you felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Jun-ho smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was a smile that spoke of possession, of control. Suddenly, you felt his hand slide down your back with a firmness that made you shiver.

"This is so you have no doubt," he murmured, before his lips met yours in a passionate, direct kiss, in front of everyone.

The clash of sensations was immediate. The world around you disappeared, only he and you existed, and the intertwined mouths. The kiss was neither shy nor brief; it was long, intense, full of a promise that didn't need to be verbalized. Jun-ho held you tightly, making your body press closer to his, as if you wanted to disappear into him.

At first, the room fell silent. No one dared to interrupt, surprised by Jun-ho's audacity. But then, someone laughed nervously, and another murmured something softly, as if trying to downplay what had just happened. However, Jun-ho showed no signs of concern. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy every glance, every whisper at the table, as if he fed off the attention they gave him.

When they finally parted, the air around them was charged, but not with tension, rather with an unbreakable confidence. Jun-ho looked at you with a smile that knew exactly what it was causing. He knew there was no way anyone could doubt what was between them.

"Is that clear to you?" he asked in a low voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Your breath was ragged, but it wasn't just because of the kiss. There was something in his attitude, something in the way he had behaved that had completely shattered you. And now, looking at him, you understood that there were no doubts. There was no room for insecurities. You were with him, and that was all that mattered.

You nodded, without the need to say a word. You knew you didn't need to speak. Jun-ho had done everything he needed to do to make sure there was no room for doubt. And when everyone's attention slowly returned to their own conversations, you felt different. It wasn't that you had been "possessed" in some way, but there was something in that kiss, in that public display of affection and control, that had erased any insecurity you might have had.

The others returned to their conversations, some of them even trying to discreetly glance towards where you and Jun-ho were sitting. But he didn't let you go for a second. The way he held you, the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were his, without the need for words.

#squid game smut #squid game #squid game 2 #jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho smut #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang junho #jun ho squid game #hwang jun ho #squid game x reader smut

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pinechips · 1 day ago

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Why do I love WN? Hmm, I already wrote a pretty lengthy ramble, so let me paste that again.

I think this is a good time to say something about Warrior Nun - because most of the tags from the other fandom are "I don't even know these girls!" Then you might be curious about what this freaking ship is and why people love Avatrice so much. To avoid spoilers, let me just focus on *my* feelings about this ship (and this amazing show).

I came across Warrior Nun on my twt timeline because some of my friends didn't stop talking about it. I was curious and watched the show - and fell in love.

Hmm, what can I say? It reminds me of the feeling of first love - when you really don't know what it is, but you realize "this must be it, otherwise how could I feel this way?". The pure happiness you feel just by looking at someone (not even as your gf).

But there is a maturity in their love. The way you just want her to be happy - whether you will be able to see her or not. Oh, I can probably write 5k words here, and I already wrote 400k about their love on ao3. I still have more stories to write.

After I fell in love with it, the show was canceled by Netflix. It is a really good show and proved to be successful enough (we have a full report on ratings and popularity analysis). Still, it was canceled. So the fandom decided to be loud, to be heard, as much as possible, as far as possible. The fandom put up a billboard in front of the Netflix headquarters. Then sent an erotic pastry to Netflix executives (based on our internal jokes about a scene in the show). We want them to remember what our show means to us. We also want others to know how much fans support this show. I'm not going to tell ya what's happened in the last two years because it hasn't been an easy fight (well, it's been worth every second, though).

So the Warrior Nun fandom has some *history* too, if you ask me. And I fucking love that I haven't seen any disrespect to other fandoms from the WN side in this whole poll mess. I love WN so much, but I also respect every other fandom. We need more w/w representation, always.

It got long and less funny than I planned, but I hope this piques your curiosity about my favorite show. Please watch it and if you like it, join us to talk about it. We love new friends.

(And this is how my lunch hour ends. All the things I do for Avatrice...)

Top Femslash Ships Bracket - FINALS

#we're celebrating #also having fun #let's go nuns #avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice

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vifilms · 9 hours ago

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THEY CALL ME HOMEWRECKER

pairing. established!cait x reader ft. older!vi

content warning. eighteen+, some freaky toxic shit, caitlyn lowkey a bad girlfriend, reader a freak, and violet’s just there for a good time, ooc!vi mostly, strap!sex, threesome, jealousy, cheating, some good ‘ole drama, public!sex, slight voyeurism if you squint.

#thank u to my boo @sinstear for helping me facilitate this madness and giving me even more ideas for it. and for @shouyuus for always supporting my gay panicking. still crying about it. as always, eighteen+.

since the two of you were struggling financially, you’ve always stuck by caitlyn’s side. throughout all of her business endeavors, one finally stuck, the restaurant on avenue street, and god is it ever so booming. weeks of hectic hours turn into months of hardly seeing her due to her schedule always being on the flipside of hers.

all of it was so excruciating.

over the past few months, the cracks of your relationship fall over like a tsunami waves, crashing repeatedly into the shore. you try to talk about it with her — the two days out of the week when you actually see her — but she’s always too tired.

too this.

too that.

nothing you do is ever enough. it doesn’t matter if you set the mood just right, candles light with rose petals on the bed, buying a new lingerie set to attempt to peak your girlfriend’s interest.

“baby, it’s been months since we’ve had sex? do you just not want me anymore? caitlyn reassure you she does but makes no move to give you the relief you’re so desperately seeking. deadly kisses turn stale in your mouth, the bitterness of her stagnant need tastes like the dark chocolate on your tongue.

“just—“ caitlyn grunts as she gently shoves you off as her back turn away from you “not tonight.”

you’re so close to cry, to calling this relationship for what is, a colossal failure. deciding to cool down before offering her the proposition, the one you’ve been thinking about for a while now. no matter what you do, you love cait too much to call it quits. you have to fight for who you love, no matter the cost. this is the only choice you can make…right?

droplets kiss your skin, an oversized shirt hits your thighs as your feet pad away from the cool tile, the dampness of your hair touches the cotton as she looks at you, exhaustion written all over her gorgeous face.

“what if we opened this up? let someone…in.”

shyly, you mumble. and you expect some lewd response, anger, a finality to the end but you’re met with relief. “i think that’s a great idea, love.”

but caitlyn would live to regret those words. “just one night with someone else.”

the both of you agree.

all of it happened organically, that’s what you were her for. caitlyn was close and made sure not to hover. the stipulation being the two of you had to be attracted to whoever came home with the two of you. it’s when you spot her, checking you out from the other side of the bar.

“hi, cupcake.” her voice is sultry but her rasp velvet smooth.

“o-oh, u-um, hi—” you readjust shirt, the swell of your breasts threatening to spill from the tight top you’re wearing. she’s the hottest woman you’ve ever seen. soft lines on her face to resemble her age, but fuck, she’s so pretty.

powder-blue eyes resembling the sky as she checks you out from head to toe, unable to keep her eyes off of you. she can’t stop looking at you as you squirm underneath her blunt gaze.

“who’s the blue haired woman behind you? girlfriend? she looks like she wants to kill me for getting so close to you.” with a fierce sense of confidence running through her veins, she plays with the pretty silver chain hanging from your neck.

“she is my girlfriend but we have an understanding.” the nerves from your initial impression of her dissipate, as you step closer to her. “we’re on the hunt for someone to fuck our brains out, especially mine it’s been a little too long.”

"how long?"

the curoisty slips out before she can help herself, eyes falling back on your tits again again as you cross your arms over your chest, tongue running over your lips as the tattoo peeking out from her the underside of her neck.

“long enough.”

but caitlyn interjects, slithering her way as she immediately starts caressing the mystery woman’s forearm. it’s difficult to pretend there isn’t a sting in your chest when she so easily touches someone else without a second thought.

it isn’t fair, that’s all you’ve wanted, an ounce of her affection but it seems it just takes a certain kind of woman to get her going. on that doesn’t love her the way you do, one that’s hotter, sexier, and definitely has more experience than you.

caitlyn is all over her, all night. vi, as you’ve come to learn, is much older than you and cait, more successful than you could ever dream of, and she damn sure knows how to sweet talk. you can’t help but feel a little left out as you sip on your martini, courtesy of vi.

excusing yourself to freshen up, not that you believe either of them would notice, you wash your hands, splash some water on your cold face to calm yourself. it’s crystal clear, she always wanted to have sex, just never with you.

there she stands, proud and tall, with hope in her eyes like she’s found the missing piece of her puzzle. “so, she’s perfect, right? i mean we really hit it off. the both of us, right?”

you nod, “yeah, sounds perfect, cait.” but she’s too fucking horny too nice the clip to her name or the bitterness in your tone. she’ll have her fill and you’ll be stuck on the sidelines, again. she’ll do anything but acknowledge this relationship for the farce it is.

you should have known, all the signs right in front of you to see, and now it all it took a pink-haired goddess to show you the light. she’ll get her pussy wet for anyone who isn’t you.

“great! i’ll tell her. i’m so glad we decided to do this, love.”

love.

the irony of her burning affection nearly causes you to throw up.

still, you’re incessantly scrubbing at your hands, the skin feels raw, the top of your fingers wrinkling like prunes. the last thing you want to do is meet them out there. the gorgeously, very-fuckable stranger who your girlfriend can’t get enough of. you should have just done the right thing, put the relationship to bed along with the rest of your dignity. now you’d have to watch who you thought was the love of your life, get off right in front of you.

then she’s here. vi. with her beautiful face, her cologne that smells of vanilla and mahogany, her perfectly fit body, making you feel more insecure than you’ve ever been.

“you alright, princess? if you have second thoughts just say the word…”

“nope.”

with a violent urgency, you keep scrubbing the soap into your absolutely clean hands, bending over the counter slightly to rinse them when you feel her behind you, gripping at your hips. she reaches over to shut the water off, handing you a few paper towels to dry your hands.

what the fuck is she playing at? why isn’t she sucking caitlyn’s face off?

“i have something else in mind—” vi leans over as her hot breath kisses your ear, “and it has to do with this pretty, little skirt on the floor.”

“oh, vi, we should really go and meet caitlyn, she—” but you can’t talk, not when she starts stroking the silky skin of your thigh, pushing the hem of your skirt up just a hair.

“you sure about that?” vi crawls her playful hand underneath the hem, playing with the panties covering your cunt, teasing your slit through the delicate lace. “i had my eyes set on something i want to try first.”

“o-oh…kay, well, it’s really not the best idea. please, can we—"

“so you really want to princess? something tells me, you’re dying to have this pussy eaten, fucked….stretched. i have a perfect hot pink cock for you to get fucked with, a mouth to please you, and a good set of fingers for you to bounce on.”

before you realize what’s she’s doing, her heavenly hands dip inside your panties, splitting your folds like the red sea; as god intended. she groans in your ear when she not only feels, but hears how soaked you’ve become, hot breath setting your body aflame.

“how does that sound, princess? want me to take care of you?” you grind against her pelvis, back arching into her as she slips a lone finger inside you. you moan so high, it nearly sounds like a scream.

“mmm, shit, ahhh, that’s—”

becoming very aware of the public setting, anyone could walk in the door at any given moment, you try to refute but you’re struggling to find the words, as she curls her finger inside you, establishing a steady pace.

“what? don’t think of caitlyn now. she certainly didn’t care before, did she? let me guess…she left you and your vibrator to your own device, pressing on that pretty clit of yours, hoping she’d jump in but she couldn’t.

“she couldn’t do what needs to be done—” vi bites and sucks at your neck, you crane your body towards her in submission, giving the older woman all the access she needs to tear you apart. “but i can give you whatever you fucking want, princess.”

it doesn’t take anything else before you’re attacking the older woman with your lips, her tongue invades your mouth as she surges for dominance, gripping your plump cheeks through the small amount of fabric covering them.

immediately intertwining your finger through her hair as you tug on her roots, as your skirt rides up against almost rising completely as vi pushes you through the first open stall she sees. not giving one flying fuck who hears her.

“needed you first, you know that? couldn’t help myself as soon as i saw you. god, just you wait until tonight.”

you shake your head as she pushes the your skirt to your hip bones, ripping your panties off with one single rip!

“tonight?”

“yes, pretty girl, tonight. m’gonna make her watch while i fuck you on my cock.”

pressing her knee with force in-between your legs, an animalistic moan tumbles out before you could even stop yourself.

“c’mon, ride my thigh, sweet girl. that’s what you want, hm?”

vi’s strength centers you in like gravity, allowing you to slide further up her trousers, your folds fluttering against the friction, allowing the crease of her perfectly-ironed slacks to push against your soaking pussy.

“god, fuck her for not wanting to fuck you. i’ll fuck you all night if you let me.” vi grunts as she watches your body writhe, tits bouncing as chase your high.

“fuuuckkkkk,” you hiccup, so close as she pushes a thumb in your mouth, effectively shutting your mouth for a moment as you suck on the digit. swirling your tongue around her finger, pretending she’s fucking you with a strap instead.

“such a good girl for me.” pulling off with a delectable pop, she presses against your clit, blissful patterns being traced on your bundle of nerves and just with a few strokes you’re done for. falling fast and hard.

“vi, vi, oh fuck, baby, viiii—” a drawl of her name as she abuses the bundle of nerves, the ache for her full attention and freely does vi give it.

you fall into her chest, whimpering as her incessant need to play with your clit does nothing to help you calm down — all she does is rile you up.

fuck, caitlyn.

not a day in your life had you thought of being interested in someone so much older than you, but god you’d never come apart like that. not so quickly and not ever quite as hard. she knew what you liked without uttering a word.

the swipe of her thumb felt like a stroke of god, as if she was one, giving into your mundane pleasure, helping you close in on what seemed like an impossible finish.

this wasn’t part of the deal. shit, you’re so fucked.

“turn around.” you obey.

a pathetic servant willing to get it’s pay.

she slaps your ass once more, a whimper tumbles and vi eats up every second of it.

“how bad do you want my cock, baby?”

“so bad, please.”

“good. you’ll show me…in front of her.”

—

“just like that princess, fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty.”

violet’s hands steady your hips as you ride cait’s cock, the strap stretching you out to the heavens, vi guides you in perfect rhythm. you know you should feel bad, but you can’t stop staring at vi, her perfect eyes gleaming as you moan out her name.

not cait, vi.

“love—” caitlyn’s voice is drown outed when vi is looking at you the way she’s does, the way you’ve been begging your girlfriend too but she only does when there’s someone else giving you what you’ve been desperately craving.

“how does it feel, cupcake?” vi whispers in your ear, “does it feel good when you fuck yourself on her cock?”

without warning, vi slaps your ass as you jolt forward, the silicone cock slipping deeper within you, kissing your cervix as vi keeps her hand on your lower back, guiding your movements.

“f-feels really good, vi.”

vi kisses down your neck, biting at the skin before she presses her scarred lip against your ear.

“i know it does, princess. been wanting this for months, huh? don’t worry about a thing. i’ll take care of you.”

vi smirks as she sees caitlyn stirring with fury, bold pair of blues ignite under the fire of someone else seeing what is so rightfully hers. she hates this, knowing someone else is talking you through it, touching your skin, soft lips kissing the ample skin of your neck.

truthfully, she’s never been a jealous person. as the rises at the break of dawn and sets in the cool evening, caitlyn truly believed she’s the one for you — no one else could dare compete.

it’s caitlyn and you.

but suddenly it doesn’t feel like the two of you against the world.

it’s vi and you, the anxiety bubbling in her stomach feels catastrophic, so she fucks into you, making you squirm with need. but still, you’re so entangled in vi, you don’t even notice her.

the night hadn’t started the way caitlyn planned — or wanted — but she lapped at your cunt as vi instructed her to do so. she’d been vying for an ounce of her attention. truthfully, she’d settle for either one of you, but the two seem to enthralled with one another to even notice her existence.

but fuck, you’re her girlfriend. only hers.

but when you’re close, you ask vi for permission to come. it’s vi’s whose name you scream out when you start falling apart on caitlyn’s cock. it’s vi rubbing your clit, whispering sweet nothing in your ear as you see stars, it’s vi who pulls you into her lap as you cling onto her for dear life, as if caitlyn’s touch feels poisonous.

nothing makes sense.

when caitlyn thinks for a moment, she’ll get an ounce of attention, vi handcuffs her to the chair across the bed.

“what are you doing?” dark blue eyebrows furrow as her, eye squinting harshly.

“you’ll get your turn, be patient.” vi scolds, but she has no intention on following through on her promise. this is to make a mockery her, to show her exactly what’s she been missing.

in the full nude, she walks over to the night stand, grabbing the harness, and makes sure everything is just right for you — the hot pink dildo protrudes, just as she promised. the pink bush she’s sporting matches deliciously as her happy trail follows up her lower abdomen.

caitlyn wants to curse at the wind when you immediately fall in obedience, commands fly off vi’s tongue and you adhere to her wishes. the first has your mouth wrapping around her pink cock, she gently thrusts, lubricating the plastic with your tongue. your hands twisting vi’s pierced nipples, playing with the silver barbell, taking pride and joy when her breath hitches.

“lay on your back for me, yeah?” vi doesn’t waste another beat.

with reckless intent, she slides in, every inch of her saturated in your warmth. you waste no time, fingers woven through her hair like a thread through embroidery. her pink hair becomes nothing more than a leash for you tug on, each powerful thrust to much, too soon — but you also are too terrified to let go.

"take it, princess. just like that—" violet pushes deep, clinging to her broad back, scratches made in tandem when she delivers a brutal pace. "tell her how much you love my cock."

there she sits, jaw slack, mouth open so wide she could catch flies.

vi can't tell if you she's crying and part of her almost feels bed until desperate pleas of her name fall from sanctioned lips. violet smirks as she looks back at caitlyn, waiting for the inevitable moment of her crumble.

there's only so much one girl could take and violet knew she had to be hitting her limit. soft please of, babygirl, falls on ears that only hears vi's instruction. deviously, violet smirks as she watches caitlyn realizes exactly what as going on.

but it's too late.

you're already far out her grip as your grip onto violet for dear life as you come apart on her cock, moaning louder than caitlyn's ever heard.

you're never loud, even when the two of you did have sex, it's always been quiet.

sweet. soft.

nothing about this is tender as your squirt all over her bed sheet, effectively sending violet over the edge from watching you come, fucking you harder as you moan into her neck, sharp teeth sinking into her collarbones.

to sink the final dagger in her heart, you initate violet's lips locking in yours, a smashing of desire reaches it's fateful end. caitlyn watches as you lose yourself in someone else, someone older, wiser — her stomach churns as she desperately tries to break free of the restraints.

she's been made a fool of, a mere mockery just for wanting to try something you suggested. but the jealousy falls around her, she's not strong enough to watch you enjoy getting your brains fucked by someone who has everything.

for the first time in her life, she feels you slipping through her fingers.

"would you stop touching her? this is over. we're done with you, vi. she's my girlfriend, get off her." bitterly, caitlyn sneers.

"oh, she does?"

with a roll of her strong hips, vi thrusts deep into your pussy, you clench around her, arching your back as you cry out for your lover's touch.

"well, i hate to be the barrier of bad news, but she's not done which means neither am i. so, enjoy the show, cait. you sure have paid a pretty penny for it."

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