#tomorrow- despite the holiday

[airxn]

having the unexpected urge to write at midnight but choosing sleep...

[haichengtual]

if this time is the last drive out in the haze,

take me in for the last time into your eyes...

for @xiaoxiongmaos from your secret santa ♡

[leapingthroughworlds]

what a marvelous feeling to be seen by this very kind cute old man i'll never even see in real life. life changing experience to be an uncle rick fan, would definitely recommend

[izzy-b-hands]

Food attempted. Food regret. Full food-related vent post has been shoved over to the private posting only venting blog (y'all are welcome lmao).

And now back to my brain tearing itself apart over not knowing what it feels i'm 'allowed' or have 'earned' the right to do lmao

[xenovair]

the adhd paralysis is REAL rn

[ethereal-moon-child]

Today is the 1 year anniversary of something really special, so to celebrate I finally did some magic again after so long and cast a curse 🤗💕

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[raeathnos]

.

[binesetakeout]

i did not expect myself to become so so anxious about death and it's inevitably of happening to people i love but also im not in the least bit surprised

[r3starttt]

GHOSTFACE ABBY

PAIRING: abby x reader

SUMMARY: Why not take a break from college and try the sticky, intoxicating atmosphere of a Halloween party? What could possibly go wrong, right?

CW: abby is a bit of a stalker. knife kink (like, fr) dry humping. breath play. choking. slight noncon but not really. mask kink. spit kink. cum eating. blood kink(? fingering. strap on. messy sloppy violent sex. bit of a pervert insane Abby and reader ngl.

A/N: ITS FICTION, REMEMBER IT DOESN'T NEED TO MAKE SENSE, REMEMBER NO MEANS NO, CONSENT MATTERS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO MAKE IT SEEM ANY OTHER WAY.

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworldd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 | - abby taglist: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee @wastdstime | I dedicate this to @clairoscharm lysm

Halloween night—the air buzzing with anticipation for weeks as if the entire month of October revolved around this one event. Since the clock had struck midnight to mark the start of the month, Halloween had been the only topic on everyone’s lips. Your roommate, half-asleep and barely keeping her eyes open, had interrupted your shared study session with a groggy yet excited declaration that Halloween had officially begun. For her, at least.

Exams were looming just as close as the holiday, and you weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of going to some lame party. It wasn’t like it would be your last Halloween, or the last chance to throw on a costume and get drenched in sweat while the stench of alcohol clung to your skin. But when the study material became a blur and your brain refused to retain anything, you found yourself thinking, why not? Maybe a break was exactly what you needed.

So here you were, wearing a last-minute ghostface mask, barely bothering to put any effort into the costume despite it being one of your favorite movies. Half the people in the cramped, sweaty space around you were dressed just as lazily. You’d lost track of your roommate hours ago, the blur of bodies and pulsing music swallowing her up as you found yourself dancing mindlessly with someone whose face you hadn’t even glanced at. A long braid swung past your peripheral vision, and the way they touched you made it easy to assume—hope—it was a woman. But it didn’t really matter. Both of you wore masks, and in your alcohol-fueled haze, you doubted you’d remember any of this tomorrow.

Boredom set in quicker than you anticipated. The press of bodies, the heat rising off the dance floor, and the tightness of your costume made your skin itch. You pushed away from the stranger behind you, their touch becoming less interesting by the second. You turned to face them briefly, offering a lazy dance before slipping away toward the kitchen, your throat burning for a drink that wasn’t spiked punch.

Something inside you craved more—maybe more alcohol, maybe more excitement.

As soon as you stepped into the quieter space, you ripped off the mask, gasping for air. The kitchen was a sanctuary compared to the chaos outside, and you immediately began rummaging for something to soothe your dry throat.

“Hey.” A hand gripped your shoulder unexpectedly, and you spun around, a flicker of annoyance rising as you struggled to process the voice. It was your roommate, glancing over your shoulder at the masked figure still lingering in front of the doorway. They were staring at you, unbothered by your roommate’s obvious curiosity. "Uhh, you got another gift? I forgot to tell you, it's a note- Who’s that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, dismissing the question as you reached for a drink.

“Don’t be like that, that's why creeps stalk you" she laugher at you, giving your hand a playful squeeze before her boyfriend swooped in, pulling her away by the waist. “They look hot. Go have some fun!”

You watched her go, their matching costumes adorable as they disappeared into the crowd. Despite her sweet words, your heart wasn’t in it. You didn’t come here looking for romance or hookups. You just wanted to drink, dance a little, and wake up tomorrow with sore feet from your heels rather than the crick in your neck from the endless hours hunched over textbooks.

The buzz of your phone in your pocket interrupted your thoughts. You fumbled for it under the thin black robe you’d thrown on, nearly exposing half your leg as you pulled it free. An unknown number flashed on the screen, but before you could decline the call, it stopped.

Prank call? you wondered, about to take a sip of your drink when the phone vibrated again, the same unknown number lighting up. This time, curiosity got the better of you, and you thought on answering, heading upstairs in search of some quiet.

Maybe it was some stupid prank, but who knew—perhaps it would be entertaining enough to break up the monotony of the night.

After knocking on a few doors, you finally found an empty room. It felt oddly strange, like a guest room no one had ever used. With the door locked behind you, you tossed your phone onto the bed and peeled off your mask, taking a moment to inspect the sparsely decorated space. Just a small bed, some empty cabinets, and a window overlooking the front garden. The wood creaked as you opened the window, the night air cooling your flushed skin. The phone buzzed again, and you glanced down at the screen.

Unknown number.

The phone buzzed again, and this time, curiosity got the better of you. You picked it up and clicked on the unknown number. Before you could speak, the person on the other end hung up. Maybe they got the wrong number, or maybe you could have some fun with it—prank them back, perhaps.

So, you tried again until they answered, the silence between you and the caller stretching on for a beat too long.

Then, a voice—distorted, almost robotic—crackled through. “You’re not going to say anything?”

You smirked at the tone, leaning against the windowsill. “And why should I?”

A low chuckle echoed through the line. “You took off your mask.”

Your smirk faltered, and you glanced around the empty room. No one was there. The door was locked. “How do you know that?” It felt stupid to ask. Haven't you learned from your horror movies to never say the truth?

“I’m watching you.”

The words made you uncomfortable but not scared—just a little on edge. You leaned out the window, scanning the crowd below, your eyes narrowing until you spotted them. The person from earlier, the one you’d been dancing with, stood beneath the flickering streetlight, their braid still hanging down from the mask they hadn’t removed. A sense of unease washed over you.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice on the other end of the line was amused. “Talk like you know me.”

The robotic distortion couldn’t mask the mocking tone, and you rolled your eyes. “The voice changer’s a nice touch, but I’m not into men. So, thanks but no thanks.”

They laughed again. “I know. I felt it.”

The way they said it made your skin crawl, and you shifted your weight, trying to shake off the discomfort. “If you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve just come over instead of asking for my number and pulling this creepy shit.”

Silence greeted your accusation, but then you saw them step back into the house, disappearing from sight. The voice, now laced with something darker, whispered, “Who said I asked for your number?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “What?”

But they had already hung up.

You stared at your phone, dialing back over and over again, only to be met with nothing but silence. the unsettling realization creeping in that this wasn’t just a prank.

Your thoughts raced, and you frantically tried to get ahold of your roommate. If anyone could help or at least confirm this was some elaborate joke, it would be her. But as expected, there was no reply. Probably busy with her boyfriend, fucking in the back of his truck, oblivious to the flood of messages you sent—urgent pleas—all falling on deaf ears.

If what he or she, said was true and they really was coming for you, then what? What could you do? Hide in this empty, unfamiliar room until morning? Sneak out of the house, risking everything for what?

Was this just some elaborate game to mess with your head? Maybe it was your roommate and her boyfriend playing a cruel prank, knowing how much you loved horror movies.

How ironic, you thought bitterly. The last time you watched Scream, they mocked it endlessly, laughing at how you called it your favorite. There was a humor in the stupidity of the characters' decisions, how everyone died in such obvious, avoidable ways.

And here you are.

The pounding music rattled through the walls and floor, vibrations crawling up the windows and doors, masking any sound that might have been out of place. You didn’t hear anything strange—or at least, you convinced yourself of that. No more calls. No more knocks. The alcohol coursing through your veins dulled the edge of unease, numbing your thoughts as the beer in your hand burned its way down your throat. Each bitter sip was a slow erasure of worry, an excuse to keep your phone face down and your gaze fixed on the window, half hoping to see someone familiar out there in the dark.

But no one came. No one ever would.

You downed the rest of the beer in one go, your nerves drowned in the haze of indifference. The strange call, the unsettling feeling—it was nothing. It had to be. The night was dragging on, the party getting louder, more chaotic, as if the whole neighborhood had surrendered to the noise and drunken laughter. The vibration of it all felt endless—until three sharp knocks cut through the noise.

Your heart stammered, beating against your ribs. Maybe it was a couple, drunk and looking for a private space. That was it. Nothing strange. You cursed under your breath, fumbling for your mask. "Hold on—I'm coming!" you called out, annoyance biting at your tone.

You abandoned the empty beer somewhere in the room, grabbing your phone with a shaky hand, adjusting the mask over your face as you unlocked the door.

But it wasn’t what you expected.

They stepped in without hesitation, a figure in the same costume as yours, locking the door behind them with a deliberate click. “Take your time,” they said, their voice low, almost mocking.

A pulse of dread shot through you. You could push them, shove them away—but something in the air made you hesitate. One of their hands lingered on the door, the other stayed at their side, but their presence was overpowering. The thrum of music outside dulled, the beat fading into the background as if the room itself had swallowed the sound.

“This isn’t funny,” you managed, your voice faltering as their hand reached for something under their robe. Before you could move, before you could think, the glint of a knife appeared between you, slow and deliberate, the blade tracing an invisible line in the air.

"Don't make this harder," they murmured, tilting their head. The voice was too familiar, too close. “The phone.”

You froze, confusion knitting your thoughts together as you stared at them. “I—what?”

A heavy silence enveloped the room, stretching into an awkward pause before you found your voice again, "What's the knife for?" the question sounding foolish even to your own ears. Had you learned nothing from the movies?

The figure before you laughed. "You’re gonna beg me not to use it?" they taunted, a playful menace in their tone.

You didn’t respond, only managing a plead in return."Please don’t kill me?" voice laced with mock desperation, an attempt to gauge how far they would take this game.

"Please! Oh, please!" you whined, the words slipping from your lips in a mix of humor and genuine anxiety, testing the limits of this bizarre encounter. Stopping as the blade suddenly pressed against your chest, its cold steel a stark reminder of the danger that lurked just beneath the surface of your playful banter.

“I would’ve killed you already if I wanted to. Just do what I say, yeah?” Their tone was almost casual, as if they were giving you simple instructions, not pressing a blade against your nerves.

You stepped back, misjudging the distance, your body stumbling into the bed. You grabbed at the frame for balance, but your limbs betrayed you, collapsing onto the mattress. They followed, kneeling down, their movements deliberate. The knife stayed in view, tracing the hem of your robe, drawing slow, delicate lines up and down your leg.

"Who are you?" you breathed, trying to make sense of the surreal. The costume. The mask. The knife.

“I’ve been looking for you,” they said, shrugging as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I know you’ve been looking for me too.”

Confusion twisted in your gut, mixing with fear. The words, their voice—it all felt too close, too intimate. Like something out of a twisted game. They leaned in, their hands finding your knees, their touch unsettlingly calm, hovering just over the fabric of your robe.

“Phone,” they said again, their patience thinning. The knife skimmed lightly over your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to send chills racing up your spine. “Turn it off, or give it to me.”

Your hand trembled as you reached for it, turning the screen off and placing it on the small table beside the bed. The distance felt too far, too close, all at once.

The glint of the knife wasn’t as sharp as it had been before. Their touch on your knees softened, becoming more deliberate than threatening. It was like they were waiting for you to push back—to take control of the situation—but you didn’t. Something about their voice, their presence, stopped the fear from settling too deeply.

Your eyes darted over their masked face, searching for a clue—anything to grasp onto. You wanted to pull the mask off, but something kept you in place, curious, almost intrigued.

A breath of a laugh escaped them, soft but unmistakable. The knife’s path stilled, hovering just above your skin, almost teasing. “You catch on quick.”

There was a dangerous allure in the anonymity, an irresistible pull that rooted you in place, daring you to stay, to see what they would do next. Maybe it was the haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts, or maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, but a part of you—buried deep—wanted this moment to linger.

The knife in their hand skimmed along your skin, grazing lightly, never breaking the surface. Each touch was calculated, teasing, as if they were testing how far you were willing to let them go.

“What do you want?” Your voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with curiosity.

They leaned in closer, their voice lowering to a deep, almost intimate tone, vibrating through the mask. “I think you already know.”

The blade, which had been dancing across your skin moments before, now retreated. In its place, their hand slid onto your leg, warm and firm, sending a different kind of shiver through you. This wasn’t just fear anymore—it was a game, one you were both playing willingly.

“What if I don’t want to?” you challenged, but your body betrayed the words, your legs parting slightly.

The knife’s point pressed into your thigh, a small, sharp warning that made you freeze in place. It didn’t hurt, not really, but the message was clear: slow down. You met their gaze—or rather, the hollow eyeholes of the mask—trying to see past the shadows behind it.

“You would’ve done something already,” there was a brief pause, simply observing each other “You know how these things go in the movies, right?”

Whoever they were, they knew you, and in some strange, twisted way, you felt like you knew them too. It had to be someone from the party, someone playing along for the thrill of it.

“Take it off,” you demanded, your hands instinctively reaching for the edge of their mask.

But before your fingers could hook beneath the mask, they caught your wrist, their grip quick and firm. “Where’s the fun in that?” Their voice held you in place. “Mhm?”

The frustration and curiosity mounted, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Let me hear you then?”

They straightened, towering over you now, the knife still in hand but no longer a threat. With deliberate slowness, they trailed the tip of the blade upward, grazing the fabric of your robe, teasing a path along your stomach and between your breasts. The movement was agonizingly slow.

You only watched them rise to their full height. The sound of their boots echoed in the loud quiet between both.

They stopped just short of the bed, looming above. Their gloved hand slipped beneath the folds of their cloak, withdrawing a small handheld device, their fingers pressed down on its side. The mechanical hum that had filled the space between you was suddenly gone.

The silence that followed felt deafening, louder than any threat they could have made. It was just you and the masked figure.

There was a thrill in not knowing who they were, but now, with the voice changer off, the danger felt less like a game and more like something real, something you weren’t quite ready to step away from. You didn't want to.

Their voice, when it came, was soft, natural—more intimate than before. “Better?”

You didn't have enough time to process the situation—not that you truly cared anymore.

The cool steel of her knife pressed against your chin, tilting your head upward. "Yeah, better."

The blade traced a deliberate path down your body, as if slicing through the cheap fabric of your robe with ease.

Her legs nestled between your knees, forcing you back against the bed, the soft mattress giving way beneath you. Your weight settled on your elbows, propping yourself up as you struggled to catch your breath. The mask felt suffocating, the heat of your body trapped beneath it, but the cool air from the half-closed window rushed in, caressing your half exposed skin and providing a momentary reprieve .

You could feel the rush of arousal coursing through you, intensifying with each inch of skin that was bared by her free hand, or the small orifices caused by the sharpness of the knife. She loomed over you, an imposing figure cloaked in power, and the simple costume transformed her into something far more formidable.

You wondered if it was the alcohol clouding your judgment, making you feel this desperate—or maybe it wasn’t.

You were wearing not the most usual underwear beneath the robe, but it hadn’t been for this moment; it was merely a playful nod to tease, a way to show off a bit while trying to stave off the heat of the night. You had dressed for fun, yet here you were, caught in an unexpected turn of events. How had it all spiraled to this?

Her hands pushed the robe up your thighs, uncovering you and showing you full for her. The pads of her fingers trailing it's way over your stomach first, then down your thighs to caress over the robe. all the way up your clavicle and under your mask. her fingers coming to hover over your neck mocking the act of choking before she focused on your breasts again.

Your breath got caught under the mask, trapping you fully beneath her. The sight before you painted in a dark tone, it felt surreal. There was an itch at the tip of your fingers, wanting to feel her, pull her closer and take that mask off even if yours was still on, make it messy and provide her with your humiliation and the desperation of wanting her. So, you reached for her, playing with the little fabric that your fingers could touch- only that way you realized she was no longer interested in whatever was behind the mask, but under the robe.

Her knife was long forgotten, calloused hands holding you in place, dancing over the black fabric of your costume to feel the lace beneath, going down and getting a preview of your body as she slid herself down, making space for her with her legs, separating yours and guiding your thighs open with the cold of her hands. It wasn't until she was on her knees that you fully sinked into the matresss, staring blankly at the ceiling and it's spots, humidity. Proper of a horror film.

But it stopped. She took her mask off, covering now with the length of your robe. There was nothing you could see that wasn’t that characteristic braid, she was blonde.

Her hands came to hold yours in place, you would get to see her. Just not now, and she'll make sure of it. No peeking.

Your lips parted open at the sensation of her lips, a warm kiss over the thin of your lacy panties. Your stomach raised in response, a shaky breath that to her meant it all. You were everything she had been dreaming of. Maybe she was too.

It was slow, a chain of kisses displayed over the wet that was passing through the pretty patterns of your panties. You hold her hands, digging your nails in between her fingers, making small circles over her knuckles, anything that could make her understand this wasn't fair.

To her it was only annoying, growling at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing, was it this easy for anyone to get you?

The supposed dream come true was far from what her mind had created.

To be fair, she barely knew you and you barely knew her, or that she thought. Either way, If you didn't provide her the enjoyment of the story her brain had worked on creating for the past few months, the knife was still an option.

Her hands guided yours over your lap, trapping them with only one of hers before the other one went under the robe.

With her digits she pushed your clothes aside, pressing her tongue over your clit, her fingers holding the panties in place.

You tasted better than what she'd pictured. Her moans- you couldn't hear but feel, sense- it wouldn't surprise you if your brain was imagining them even.

It didn't took her long before she slid her tongue between- up and down your slit, taking a break to scissor your folds with her fingers, rubbing the smallest circles above your arousal, admiring the sight her eyes could barely see with the little light coming from the room.

She licked your cunt, rolling her tongue in between your folds, sucking at your clit, kissing at your hole. You tasted ridiculously good. She spit over you, admiring your glistening pussy, all this for her. Your legs opened more if that was even possible, clenching at absolute nothing but the sensation of her drool and your slick mixing deliciously over your sensitive clit and down your hole.

It was quiet aside the loud music and voices coming through the window. Your whines were barely heard and so were her moans. Truth is, behind it all there were to faces and bodies as equally wet and desperate. Truly.

She slid her tongue in, savoring and feasting on your taste. You were wet and sticky and she was making a mess of it, sinking against your pussy in the sloopiest way possible. It was aggressive and dirty and it was turning your brain into absolute nothing.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around your hands, until they let go and she stopped mid ministrations. Both of her hands going to the hem of your panties, taking them off for you and getting to touch at the tender of your legs before she kept going.

What If you did something and the knife had to be used? she wouldn't want this to be how she'll get to savor you. You knew, if she was something, she was doing it properly.

Her hands left the flesh of your thighs to grip at your hands again, holding them in place. Even when you tightened around her face and barely let her breathe, she didn't care about anything that wasn't the obscene of your wet pussy and her tongue eating you out, anything that wasn't those quiet gasps for air and whines that left your pretty lips. Would they be as glossy as the sight before her?

You were suffocating, eyes closed and knotted eyebrows. Lips open to catch your breath and let the pleasure escape as loud as you felt like- who would hear anyway?

The warmth pooled on your stomach. Your legs finding comfort over her shoulders, pressing her closer, deeper. You didn't care about her either, you never did and this wasn't gonna change it, but for now your fuzzy brain could only think and go for the orgasm. Her tongue felt ridiculously good, her hands were heavy and you knew she wanted you, she needed you. It was turning you as desperate and intense as she was.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck..." you warned, only making her work harder for your pleasure. She did take her time with you, it was her fantasy, but the moment was making her weaker. At one point, after being squeezed between your thighs and pressed against your slick, could there be any better?

For one last time she sinked her face into your soaking cunt, her tongue delighting herself with the bundle of nevers she craved.

if she could she'll eat you alive, sense your blood, mix it in her tongue with your arousal. feel all the warmth withing you. "fuck" she whined, yes, whined. with it came the slurps, taking in all you had for her. She would not waste any of it.

You bucked your hips closer to her, lifting them- your body turning into a humiliating response, loud and stupid for her. Letting out a chain of blabbers, nonsense pleads for her.

It had you salivating, her touch. She didn't stop Inmediatelly, not even when savoring what was left for her to take. She kissed at your clit, sucking and playing with it while you still squirmed. It was just a last taste.

You're far too gone, feeling the warmth taking over you. You don't realize she's right there, on her knees for you and you only.

The scene is beyond obscene, with your slick running down her chin, her baby hairs dancing over her forehead and sides of her face, above her flushed freckled cheeks. It's delighting delightful, truly.

You turn your head up, the mask covering your face still an impediment for her to actually see how much of an effect she'd achieved on you. But God if she could only see your eyes.

"Abby?"

Her eyes flicker toward you, and you catch the faintest smirk playing at her lips. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, as if savoring the taste of what just happened. It makes your stomach twist—desire and dread, intertwined. You swallow hard, your breath uneven, and her nod is slow, deliberate.

"Come on... you didn’t know?" Her voice is honeyed, but it drips with something darker, something mocking. You've never heard her sound this soft, yet it wraps around your throat like a noose. You feel your chest rise and fall too quickly—she sees it, her eyes locked on the rise and fall of your breath.

Her hands rest lazily on your knees, the soft brush of her fingertips teasing. Her gaze flicks to the discarded panties on the floor—yours, taken by her, claimed like a trophy. The smirk deepens, and she stands, her presence looming over you.

"I mean... double A's are pretty common," you mutter, trying to sound indifferent, as if the heat between your legs wasn’t still pulsing, as if her touch didn’t set your body on fire. She doesn’t seem fazed by your lame attempt at deflection. If anything, it amuses her.

From behind her back, a flash of metal—she pulls out the knife, lazily letting it drop beside you on the bed. The weight of it bouncing against the mattress makes your pulse spike, but the tension in your body remains, a slow-burning ache. You want her, even now—maybe especially now.

She takes off her Ghostface robe, the identity game long over. You do the same, peeling the mask off, but it’s not like either of you were ever fooled. Not really. You’ve known from the beginning who was under the mask.

Her voice cuts through the quiet. "Oh, so I’m not special?" It’s teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a warning. She takes a step closer, her fingers tracing over her belt, dark eyes never leaving yours. "Who’s the other one?"

You let out a breathy laugh, your lips curling into a smile, playful yet sharp. "You're the only one, Abby. I just didn’t expect you to be such a psycho." The word rolls off your tongue, half a taunt, half admiration. You cross your legs, your posture casual, until she presses her hands on your knees, parting them with ease.

She leans in close, towering over you with that intoxicating blend of power and desire. "Oh, so you get to be a creep, but I can’t?" she breathes, her face hovering inches from yours, her knee wedged between your thighs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. Her hands grip the mattress beside your head, caging you in.

"It was just a joke," you murmur, though the words sound hollow. You know the truth. You had been obsessed with her, watching her from the shadows, reveling in her weirdness.

"A joke, huh?" she tilts her head, her braid sliding over her shoulder as she studies you. "Then why did you call me in the middle of the night, moaning my name while you touched yourself?"

Before she can say more, you grab her braid, pulling her down for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself on her lips. It’s rough, desperate, filled with unspoken confessions. You pull back just enough to murmur against her mouth, "I didn’t stalk your house. I didn’t send you creepy gifts or follow your friends. That was all you, Abby."

Her eyes burn into yours, a silent challenge. She leans down, her body pressing into yours, the cold metal of her belt buckle digging into your stomach. The weight of her presses you further into the mattress, her presence consuming you. Your legs rub against hers, your body reacting instinctively to the tension, the anticipation.

One of her hands trails down your stomach, teasingly low, but just when you think she’ll give you what you crave, she slides her hand to cup the back of your thigh, pulling it against her. The pressure of her knee against you remains, enough to keep you on edge.

"Was I supposed to just let you have your fun and forget about it?" Her breath is warm against your neck, her lips hovering but not touching. "Call the police, maybe? I had proof, you know."

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the weight of her intentions hanging heavy in the air. You had thought you were in control—but maybe not.

"So? I didn’t ask you not to—"

You freeze mid-sentence, feeling a sharp sting, a cold bite against your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening as you see the tip of the knife pressed into your skin, just enough to draw the faintest bead of blood.

"No, no... go on," she taunts, her breath hot against your neck as she laughs, the sound low and mocking. The knife digs just a little deeper, enough to remind you who’s really in charge here.

"I love you... don’t you love me?" she whispers. Her lips brush your ear, her voice wrapping around you like a noose. "I know you read my letters," she mutters, the blade dragging slowly up the side of your ribs, a chilling contrast to the heat of her breath against your skin.

Her free hand moves from your awkwardly positioned leg, gliding up your arm, fingers tracing the strap of your bra before she slips it off your shoulder. Her touch is deliberate, almost tender, as if savoring each inch of your skin she claims. "I know you liked them too... the things I wrote," she murmurs, her lips growing wetter with each word, as if the memories of what she’d written—the sinful things you’d done with her words on paper—had soaked into her thoughts.

But then her voice drops to a whisper, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. "Though... you didn’t wear my gift tonight." Her fingers slide both bra straps down your arms, slow, methodical. She leans back just enough to study your face, watching for your reaction.

"What gift?" you murmur, confusion clouding your thoughts as you instinctively cup her face, her skin hot and slick with sweat beneath your palm. But the sensation of her thigh grinding between your legs clouds everything, making it hard to think straight, hard to focus on anything but the pulsing ache she’s causing.

"I knew she would be an issue..." Abby groans, her voice darkening as she stares up at you, her eyes flashing with something feral. Before you can even ask what she means, her mouth is on you again, kissing over your collarbone, her lips leaving dark marks in their wake. Each bruise blooms beneath her mouth, an unspoken claim on your skin.

"Did you hurt her?" The question stumbles from your lips, your voice shaky. You didn’t care that much about your roommate, not really—but the idea that Abby could do something... it chills you. Would she hurt you, too?

"No... but you’d like me to," she laughs, pulling back to meet your gaze with a look that makes your stomach flip. Her eyes—those hauntingly beautiful eyes—burn into yours, stripping away whatever facade she used to wear at school. She’s something else now, something untamed, something dangerous.

Your breath catches as her hand slips between your thighs again, fingers teasing, pressing just enough to make you squirm. Words choke in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of her touch. And the blade—still in her hand—hovers dangerously close, a constant reminder of the twisted game you’ve found yourself in.

She slids inside you with ease, humping against you with each thrust her fingers do. Curling inside you, rubbing your clit with her thumb.

You only close your eyes, mouth open for her to hear. She moans in exchange, knuckle deep inside that pretty pussy she's much dreamed about.

"Look at me" but you ignore her, too focused on that sensation in between your legs that feels like being on heaven.

Her eyes go down between your bodies, her pants now covered in your wet. "Fucking- look at me" She warns one last time, hips bucking against yours, against her own hand while you clench around her digits.

But as you do, her words get ignored once again. The weight chocking you suddenly fades, but the wet of your pussy keeps being filled- that's all you care about.

Or that's all you cared about. "Suck," just like that your eyes meet her again, a clear mad displayed on your face. You would use that knife on her- "Yeah... good girl."

There's a web of saliva connecting your lips, broken by her fingers resting on your tongue. You just do what she says, not a major hesitation- not a physical one, at least.

"You taste so good, don't you agree?" you feel the weight of her body sitting over your leg. The response she gets is a nod, lately followed by a gag- she went too far.

It feels good, her fingers filling your mouth, your flavor mixing with your drool. Her weight numbing your leg. You moan at it, giving her the full show. You know what she's here for.

Her other hand comes to her belt, undoing it while her gaze rests over yours. "Sit" the weight of her lap abandoned your leg, pressing a small slap against your thighs while her knees depened the fabric beneath her. Only there you got a proper sight of her body, her tight black shirt and the boxers peeking through while she got rid of her pants. Just like you'd imagined it to be- not really how you'd fantasized it'll happen.

The drool connected her fingers to the fat of your lips just a few seconds before her command, the sight as obscene as the wet between your legs at the mere loss of her fingers filling you, knowing what was ahead would end in a tragedy, worth it though.

There was no warning but her hands on your ass, forcing you to sink in and elicting the most delicious moan out of your mouth. The sensation, the alcohol, the music, the fantasy of it all- you were dying tonight.

Her pretty lips popped open, head against the matress while her nails dig in the fat of your lower back, tracing the flesh of your ass cheeks in a painful way- awkward, even. You couldn't care any less.

"This what you wanted?" Abby was already out of breath, her stomach twirling at the mere sensation of your hips riding over her cock- she could feel it. You nodded, leaning closer to her "This what you wanted?" the retort left your mouth with less shame, you knew she'd planned it to be perfect, you knew inside that mind of hers it all evolved around you.

Just seeing her, willing to hurt you yet please you in the most perfect detailed way, what was love if not that? And for you, what could be a greatest prove of your own devotion if not dying for her, allowing her to fulfill her creepiest fantasies for once in her pretty perfect life.

"Y-Yeah" her tone bellow a whisper while her hands gripped at your breasts. hardened nipples between her fingers while your own hands went to rub down the soft of her freckled skin. She was strong, just like you had fantasied about. Even better.

"Yeah?" Your voice came out higher than you wanted it to, it became mocking. Her hands didn't wait long before attaching to your neck, enveloping the soft tainted skin with her fingers. she was delicate still.

You rode at the beat, the breath passing through your agitated lips feeling warmer, fading. Eyebrows closed in hope of a sign, a warning- there would never be one.

You didn't stop, it was impossible to when it felt that good. Her dick inside you, hitting you as if it was meant for you- and how you clenched around it, how good it felt whenever you sank in again and again and again. The sight of her pretty fucked up face, the sensation of loosing your breath in between. It felt too good.

But the knife was close and the temptation too. It was your plan to begin with, not hers.

So, you picked it, placing it between her pretty tits, only covered by that shirt shed worn for you tonight. She looked deliciously inviting, with that fear on her eyes like the first time you ever followed her and she caught you, similar to that time you called her after her first failed exam, moaning and whining her name while your digits clinched at your pussy, hoping it was her.

"Breathe baby... come on, don't be like that" your ears caught that peculiar laugh, giggle-like. She was nervous, had she not thought about how bad this would end?

Her hands freed your neck, and you did what she asked "No, in..." Her hands picked at the knife, guiding you "out... yeah, good girl."

The warmth in your stomach grew in a ridiculous extent. "Again, come- fuck- come on." And you did, breathing in and out at the speed she pleased, it felt even more suffocating that way. "You close?"

You titled your head back, enjoying the freedom to move your hips as you wanted to. There was nothing to hold to, but the knife covered by her hands. You wished it was her tits.

"Please baby... come on" the blade fell over her stomach, ignored as her grip went to your hair, holding you in place for her to properly take in the scenery she'd so delicated planned for tonight.

Abby was whimpering for you, Abigail Anderson, whining, crying, pleading for you to use her cock, ride her until she had your arousal glistening over it, until she could heard those pretty calls for her name one last time.

"M' gonna- fuck" there you go, her pretty good girl. So sad she'd had enough for tonight.

It was messy. The arousal still between your legs, your back against the matress while you chocked and pressed your nails as deep and strong as human against her neck. Her hands fighting to to the same for you.

The kiss was sloppy and it had happened in the blink of an eye. You should've picked the knife when the chance was given, instead of focusing on how her throat would close whenever you whine her name, whenever the strap hit against her fucking desperate pussy, rubbing against her clit the right amount to make her stomach pain and her mouth drool.

There was blood by the end. Double A's craved in your thighs while you stared at the ceiling and she crawled at the end of the bed to simply sit and catch her breath. The fat of her fingers tracing over the scratches around her neck and over her stomach. "Fuck"

[xiaq]

This morning, shortly after returning from the crag with the guys (who let him wander off leash 😐), Deacon had two seizures. None of the vets in the county were open or answering emergency lines, but I found a vet 45 mins away willing to meet up with us despite the holiday weekend. Blessings upon her.

After fluids and blood work, we’re pretty sure he ate something he shouldn’t, but his kidneys are doing their job and he should make a full recovery, provided he continues to slowly improve as he has thus far.

Please send good vibes, prayers, etc. if you have them to spare. We just want to get the good boy home safe tomorrow.

[p0orbaby]

can u do r and lessi being in the gym together and less won’t stop teasing and annoying reader

i switched this around because it fit what i was going for better. hope you don’t mind !

-

The gym is air-conditioned within an inch of its life, but Alessia is still sweating. Proper athlete sweating, the kind where her cheeks are flushed and her hair’s falling out of its ponytail in damp little wisps. She’s in a matching navy-blue set that makes her look like she’s about to film an Adidas advert, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to help.

You’re sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in the corner, sipping from a water bottle you don’t need because you’re not the one working out. You’re on holiday, after all. Alessia’s the lunatic who insisted she needed “just an hour” in the gym, despite the private beach literally shimmering outside.

“What exactly are you training for?” you ask, watching as she bends forward into some sort of stretch that’s objectively impressive but mostly just funny.

“Pre-season,” she says through gritted teeth, reaching for her toes. “Fitness doesn’t take a holiday”

“Oh, that’s inspiring.” You take another sip of water, just to make a point. “Maybe Adidas should use that. Fitness doesn’t take a holiday, but your girlfriend will”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” she asks, glaring at you from under her sweaty fringe.

“Not really. This is pretty entertaining”

She ignores you and moves to the weights section, picking up two dumbbells that look unnecessarily heavy. You watch as she starts a set of bicep curls, her form perfect, of course, because she’s Alessia Russo and nothing she does is ever less than perfect.

“Nice guns,” you say, resting your chin in your hand. “Bet you could carry all the shopping in one trip”

“Do you want me to throw this at you?” she asks, but there’s a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“You wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much when I’m unconscious”

She rolls her eyes and moves to the resistance bands. She hooks one around her foot, stretches it, and starts some sort of kickback movement that you can’t take seriously because it looks absurd.

“Are you trying to win a world title or auditioning for the Rockettes?”

That one gets a laugh, though she tries to cover it with a cough.

“Seriously, Less, you’re on holiday,” you continue, leaning back on your hands. “Why are you torturing yourself in here when we could be doing literally anything else?”

“Because I don’t want to lose momentum,” she says, switching legs.

You tilt your head. “Is that what you call it? I call it masochism”

“Shut up”

“You know, I’m proud of you, babe. Really. But if you fall over in those squats, I’m recording it”

She pauses mid-rep to glare at you, and you grin innocently.

When she finally finishes her workout, she’s glistening like a Greek statue come to life. She tosses the resistance band onto a bench and strides over to you, towering above where you’re still sitting like a particularly lazy house cat.

“You done?” you ask sweetly, looking up at her.

“Yep,” she says, and without warning, she reaches down, grabs your hands, and hauls you to your feet in one swift motion.

“Alessia!” you yelp, stumbling into her chest.

She smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Thought you could use a break , seeing as you’ve been sitting there running your mouth for the last hour.”

“I am pretty tired,” you quip, though your heart is pounding slightly from the sudden closeness. “Do you know how much effort it takes to keep up with you?”

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Come on, lazy. Let’s hit the beach”

“Finally,” you say, though you secretly think she looks ridiculously good in that gym kit and you might not mind her dragging you back here tomorrow.

[whorekneecentral]

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you. 

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.  

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[hhughes]

𓂃 ࣪ ˖ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 . . .

( 𝒔 ) ummary , just some thoughts I had about bf!jack

( 𝒘 ) arnings , some are nsfw! so readers have to be 18+

( 𝒏 ) ote , I know I’ve been a little absent lately. I’ve had a lot of unexpected things going on but i’m slowly making my way back. thank you for being patient <3

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who loves having a girlfriend. he loves doing the little things. getting you flowers when he goes to the store. buying you a gift when he goes on a road trip from the city he visited. posting photos of you on his story with a cringey “I miss you” caption when he goes on long roadies because he’s a certified simp.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ bf!jack who doesn’t tolerate when anyone talks bad about you or disrespects your relationship. he goes through his instagram comments regularly and deletes the ones talking bad about you.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who loves when you do anything that has to do with hockey. whether that is watching it with him and luke on the couch , skating with them at family skates or playing mini sticks with them in the summer. sitting in the stands or in the family box wearing his jersey. or even just texting him “good game” after road games means a lot to him. he adores that you try to appreciate and understand something that is such a big part of his life and his family.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who is so appreciative of the fact that you’re so understanding when it comes to his chaotic schedule. and he always makes sure to make up for lost time when the hockey schedule gets a bit busy. surprising you with lunch at work. or arranging spontaneous dates.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who is surprisingly a bit insecure and afraid of the fact that the thing he loves doing so much may be the reason he doesn’t keep a long term relationship or the reason he attracts the wrong kind of girls. the kind that is only after his status and money and not him. which is why he’s so grateful to have met you because he knows you love him for who he is and if it all disappeared tomorrow , you’d still be there.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who can’t help but have the biggest smile on his face when he sees you interact with his brothers. finding out you send quinn updates on him and luke just to ease the oldest hughes’ older brother anxieties. or when you spend hours on the couch with luke talking about how he’s adapting to the league and how it’s okay to miss everything back home. I just know he gets so giddy that everyone in his family from grandmas to cousins absolutely adore you.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who , despite feeling secure in your relationship , does get jealous rather easily and appreciates that you’re patient with him and provide reassurance instead of getting upset about it

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who has a bit of a hard time with healthy communication at the start of your relationship. throwing petty, sassy and dry remarks your way. but it only happens once or twice before you tell him how you feel about it before he starts to change the way he approaches conflict with you because he genuinely does care about your feelings and why you’re upset and doesn’t ever want to disrespect you by treating you poorly even if he was mad in the moment.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who isn’t surprised , and can’t even be annoyed , about the fact that his friends are instantly enamoured with you the second you show up at the lake house. he thoroughly enjoys the teasing remarks the boys throw his way the entire summer and is more than happy when he walks in on you having a group video call with trevor and cole over the holidays. you just fit into every section of his life so well from his family to his friends and it’s all he ever could have asked for in a partner.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ is a bit of a clinger and is glued to his phone when he’s away from you. texting you the most random updates about where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with. telling you that he misses you about a hundred times. refusing to go to bed unless he’s called you and said goodnight.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who is very handsy all the time. his hands constantly wanders to places deemed inappropriate in public. especially when he’s drunk and you guys are out with the guys. his hands are wandering all over, placing little kisses on your neck, shoulders, wherever he can reach. whispering in your ear about how you guys should go home.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who loves fucking you from behind while you’re wearing his jersey. it makes him go crazy. there’s just something about it that sates the possessive side of him so much when he sees it. and seeing it while he’s taking you from behind. the view is his favourite for sure. second to your pretty face of course.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who loves cumming on you. On your face, ass, boobs. Just loves seeing you all messy for him.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who gets a little turned on when you get possessive of him. Kissing his neck with lipstick on, he won’t wipe it off, he’d wear it happily. he just thinks it’s hot when you get possessive over him. and his heart can’t help but do somersaults whenever you show it , especially in public. like seeing you get all pouty and move closer to him when the waitress flirts with him. he’d just press a kiss your jaw and whisper “m’all yours baby” with a little amused grin.

ᡴꪫ ࣳ ꒰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 ꒱ who is your biggest hype man on socials. commenting all sorts of thirsty things on your posts or reposting them on his story with an emoji or a “sheesh”

[wileys-russo]

before the void (alexia’s version) II a.putellas

before the void one II filling the void one two three four five before the void 2.0 (alexia’s version) II a.putellas

if there was one thing that never changed over the years it was that you were an early bird and a morning person. long before alexia's intense training routine which often had her up at 5am, she and alba despised this little habit of yours.

the worst was always on holidays. christmas, easter, sant jordi, mothers day, first day back of school, and of course your personal favourite fresa day.

the night before would be just as painful, with your body full of beans and eager for the upcoming celebrations you'd refuse to follow your normal routine.

you'd often be curled up with your sisters on the couch with the two of them suffering through one of the brightly coloured incredibly annoying childrens shows you adored.

with your eyes starting to struggle to stay open they'd notice and silently high five above your head, exchanging victorious grins always naive about the sudden energy boosts of four year olds.

eli would finish packing away the leftovers from dinner and note your near limp form curled up on alexia's lap like a cat with an amused smile. "vale fresita, time for bed mi hija." she would make her way over and advise with a chuckle as you shook your head.

"no, m'not tired." you'd grumble, definitely tiredly, the rhythmic scratching of alba's nails against your back where her hand was tucked up your top not helping you fight the way your eyelids suddenly felt weighted and alexia's stomach rose and fall where your head was resting.

"oh no? you look tired nena, and you cannot sleep in alexia's lap all night." eli would playfully roll her eyes, nodding to her eldest daughters who let you go as eli would hoist you up onto her hip.

then like clockwork the moment you were pulled from that little bubble of warmth and comfort, it was as if an electric shock ran through and you were jolted awake.

with eyes wide and battery rapidly recharging you'd wiggle and wiggle until eli had no choice but to put you down and suddenly you were off, sprinting away as your sisters groaned and your mami sighed, tired herself.

"we'll get her mami, go take your shower." alexia ordered somewhat firmly, the two already taking off in search of you as eli held her hands up in surrender and headed for her own room knowing better than to argue.

"vamos fresa, bed time." alexia ordered eventually finding you in her room, stood on her bed and shaking your head firmly. "no, fresa day." you stated bluntly, making alba snicker where she stood blocking the door as alexia shot her a glare over her shoulder.

"no, thats tomorrow. which means you need to sleep so you're not grumpy tomorrow pequeña." your sister warned as you shook your head. "no." you repeated, the word always one of your favourites.

"yes. alba and i will read you a story?" alexia offered as you once again shook your head, not even pausing to consider the offer as you started to jump up and down on her bed.

"fresa!" alexia groaned as her neatly made bed was suddenly a crumpled pile of sheets as you giggled and tried to jump higher. "fine, no story then. bed time!" alexia made a move toward you as you jumped, avoiding her arms which reached for you.

"no!" you shook your head, launching yourself off her bed and hitting the floor with a thump, alexia wincing but letting out a small sigh as you seemed unharmed despite the distance of the jump.

"too slow!" you chirped, zooming through alba's legs as she tried to snatch you up. "you were supposed to block the door idiota!" alexia shoved the younger girl who scoffed, the two bickering back and for a moment as you took the opportunity to race away.

gathering themselves your sisters put aside their argument and focused on the task at hand, this game of cat and mouse lasting far too long now as every time they almost caught you you somehow escaped.

but eventually the time of night caught up to you and you started to run a little slower, your laughter was interrupted by yawns and before you realized you'd run into alexia's legs and you were scooped up and tossed over her shoulder.

"no!" you groaned though again interrupted by a yawn making her chuckled. "yes!" she mocked, alba tossing her your shirt you'd stripped off in your determination to stay awake which was pulled over your head.

"come on diablillo, or we will cancel fresa day." alexia chuckled as you went rigid. "no!" you hit her back as she grinned and lowered you down into your own bed, alba helping you get under the covers.

"story?" you asked hopefully, an innocent but tired smile painting your face as your sisters exchanged a look. "move over." alba ordered with a sigh and you lit up, wiggling away so she could slide on one side as alexia grabbed a book and wedged herself onto the other.

and an hour later when the house was suspiciously quiet thats how eli found all three of you, a chuckle leaving the corner of her mouth at the sight.

you were dead asleep, sprawled out with your bottom half on the bed and your top half on top of alba. alba was leaning into alexia whose arm was draped across her shoulder as her legs hung off the end of your bed.

both your sisters were also asleep with the book they'd started to read abandoned on the floor where it fell from alexia's hand, not a single one of you looking comfortable but still all entangled together on the bed.

of a morning you didn't even need an alarm, your body served its natural purpose and with it taking a small army to tire you out the night before your sisters eventually woke up around 3am with stiff necks and headed to their own beds.

but it wasn't even two and a half hours later when alexia was woken up yet again.

"ale ale ale ale ale!" you chanted as you burst through her door, climbing up onto her bed and bouncing around on the mattress as the footballers eyes cracked open.

"no fresa." she groaned tiredly, grabbing a pillow and thumping you with it sending you tumbling down onto her mattress as she exhaled deeply. "its fresa day. get up!" you huffed, kicking at her form under the covers.

fresa day of course, was your birthday. and something that the entire family took very seriously with all of your tia's and tio's and cousins coming over tonight for dinner to celebrate. but the five am wake up was not on the schedule.

"go back to sleep! fresa day will still be here in a few hours pequeña." alexia moaned, grabbing the spare pillow and covering her face it, grunting as you flopped down on top of her.

"no, starts now. ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale-" you chanted over and over and no matter how tightly alexia pressed the pillow against her face she couldn't block it out. "vale! cállate." alexia's hand covered your face as you nodded.

"happy fresa day!" you cheered as she let go, tackling her back into bed as alexia couldn't help but let out a laugh. "you can't wish yourself a happy birthday hermanita."

~

aside from your sisters if there was one other person growing up who gave you whatever you wanted and more, it was jenni.

at first you'd been a little intimdated by the incredibly tall and tattooed girl the day alexia brought her home to meet everyone, uncharacteristically hiding behind alba's leg when she introduced herself.

though recognizing you were very small and she was not jenni squatted down and offered you a handshake, alba gently nudging you forward as jenni gave you a grin when you shyly shook her hand and immediately hid back behind your sister.

alexia watched on in surprise, never having seen you this shy around any of her teammates and friends before. but as time passed, she wished you were still afraid of jenni.

instead, it was quite the opposite.

the girl rapidly became seemingly your new favourite person, and though it took a few visits for you to warm up to her, once you did you were glued to jenni's side and an absolute thorn in alexia's who never seemed to get a moment alone with her girlfriend.

but near begging her mami to give her some peace and quiet after you'd been relentlessly getting under her skin all afternoon eli took pity and took you with her to the shops.

but of course, that peace and quiet didn't last either.

alexia was in bed and in the middle of finally being able to kiss her girlfriend without interruption, straddling her hips as alba was firmly locked away in her own room knowing better than to surface while it was just the three of them at home.

so caught up in the feeling of jenni's strong hands toying with the waistband of her shorts she hadn't heard the front door open or the footsteps go racing toward her door, eli's yells for you to leave your sisters falling on deaf ears.

but alexia did hear her door open, pulling away and letting out a groan as you raced inside uninvited, climbing up onto her bed and all but shouldering your sister out of the way.

"fresa! what did we say about knocking?" your sister sighed dragging her hands down her face as you ignored her, hugging jenni tightly who only grinned and ruffled your hair.

"i'm back!" you chirped with a grin of your own, making yourself comfortable in alexia's bed in between them as your sister mumbled something under her breath, jenni shooting her a look and hitting her softly.

"i can see that pequeña. did you have fun shopping with your mami?" jenni asked, grabbing you and swinging you around to stand on her knees making you giggle and grab her hands so you could balance, nodding enthusiastically.

"sí! mami's makin paella for dinner. are you staying?" you asked hopefully, ignoring your sisters displeased huffs where she sat in bed beside the pair of you. "only if your mami says its okay, can you go ask her for me chiqui?" jenni asked as you nodded, leaping down off alexia's bed.

"fres por favor be careful!" alexia sat bolt upright at the thump of you hitting the floor where you stumbled over and fell, getting up and brushing yourself off, sending the two of them a thumbs up and sprinting off making jenni laugh and alexia sigh in relief.

"vamos grumpy, smile." jenni teased poking at her girlfriends cheeks whose scowl only deepened. "you are not jealous of your hermanita are you princesa?" the girl continued with a wolfish grin as alexia rolled her eyes.

"no!" she huffed, crossing her arms with a glare as jenni shook her head knowingly, leaning in to kiss her though before their lips touched you were back and climbing right back into bed as alexia groaned again.

"you can stay, mami said you have to anyway." you promised patting jenni's shoulder who smiled and pinched your cheek. "hey show your hermana what leila taught you yesterday chiqui." jenni remembered, alexia having had to take you to training after you finished at school when eli was stuck with a work emergency.

alexia looked on curiously as you turned to her, but her eyebrows shot up as you gave her the middle finger with a grin. "oye! you don't do that, its rude. vale?" you whined as your sister grabbed your finger and warned seriously.

"vale." you mumbled with a frown, though with a poke and an encouraging nod and smile from jenni within seconds of alexia letting go of you, you were doing it again and this time diving into jenni's hold for protection, peeking out with a grin that scarily matched the strikers.

"come on, its cute when she does it amor, no?" jenni laughed as you peeked out and gave alexia the finger but the girl was unable to stop a smile curling onto her lips at the sight. "diablillo." alexia chuckled, reaching out to push your head backwards with a smile.

"but don't do that in front of mami, ever." your sister warned sternly as you nodded, tucking your finger back away as you busied yourself getting comfortable in between them and rambling on and on to the pair about every single tiny little detail of your shopping trip.

you were cut off by a knock, alba stood half asleep in the doorframe. "nice bed hair hermana." alexia snickered as alba rolled her eyes and tried to pat it down with a huff.

"she is tired because she got home so late." you chirped, having woken up at the sound of your sister sneaking back in given her room was right next to yours, alba ushering you right back to bed as you wandered in to check on her.

"oh really?" alexia grinned as alba shot you a glare. "mami was already in bed, you were in bed, i was in-" you started to recall as alba grabbed a slide off alexia's floor and threw it at you, missing entirely as it smacked against the wall.

"and mami expected me to take you to football with me? there is not an athletic bone in your body." alexia teased as alba's glare was fixed on her. "you tell mami i got in late and i tell her you broke her vase fresa, vale?" your sister warned quietly as you frowned and alexia paled.

"i didn't break it! alexia was kick-" you started before a hand covered your mouth and alba's face lit up. "oh really?" she mocked alexia's words from before as jenni watched on in amusement and you struggled to pull your sisters hand away.

"ow! mierda." she hissed as you bit her, teeth sinking into the flesh of her palm as she shook her hand with a wince and you climbed onto jenni who wrapped her arms protectively around you.

"thats a bad word." you chirped as alexia paused to take a breath, knowing that snapping wouldn't help anything. "what do you want alba?" she redirected with a raised eyebrow.

"can i borrow your charger? i lost mine." she asked hopefully. "alexia has it she-" you perked up, only stopping when your sister sharply pinched your side causing you to whine.

but it was enough to invite alba to stride over to the desk, scoffing as indeed her charger was plugged in, snatching it back and shooting alexia a glare before marching back off, door closing with a slight slam.

"you are such a snitch!" alexia groaned as you huffed. "don't pinch me." you warned, moving to stand up and do your best to glare at her making jenni cover her laughter with her hand at the sight which was more adorable than intimidating.

"oh yeah? or what? tiny." alexia sat up with a smirk and was easily taller but it didn't deter you, only puffing your chest out more and narrowing your eyes. "i'll get jenni to beat you up." you pointed to the other girl who this time made no attempt to cover her laugh.

"oh si? what about you fresita? you can't do it?" you were sent tumbling backward as your sister pushed you with a single finger, getting right back up.

letting out a war cry you launched at her, alexia only snickering as you tried your very best to take her down, arms wrapping around her neck trying to pull her into a headlock much like she often did to you or alba.

"oh noo, you're too strong pequeña!" alexia cooed, easily grabbing your arms and pinning them to your sides with a grin. "jenni vamos, get her!" you ordered, your sisters girlfriend very happily taking your side, alexia squealing as long bony fingers dug into her side.

"finish her off chiqui." jenni grinned, alexia letting out a grunt as you jumped and rammed into her stomach. "dios mio you have bony elbows like alba!" alexia groaned, all three of you collapsing onto the bed.

"fresa! i need a taste tester hija." and with that you were off, merely a blur as you climbed down and srinted out of the room. "thats all it takes to get rid of her? food?" alexia sighed in defeat, jenni laughing and leaning down to finally kiss her.

"mami what does gay mean?" the chatter around the table stopped at your question, your sisters hiding their smiles behind their hands as you looked on with a genuine interest and eli paused for a moment.

"why nena?" the woman asked with a raised eyebrow. "well at lunch the other day mariona and me were playing hopscotch and javi joined in. then some other boys told him that was gay so he stopped and now he doesn't play with us anymore." you frowned, eli nodding in understanding.

"i see. well, gay just means happy fresita and-" eli started, stopping to glare at the three older girls who snickered, all filling their mouths with food before she continued.

"-and on monday you ask if there is a game javi wants to play, and you and mariona can play what he wants too." eli advised as you nodded, satisfied with that answer.

"your paella makes me gay mami." you smiled appreciatively, all three older girls choking on their food at your sentence before sharing a look and bursting into laughter as you looked on confused.

"what else makes you gay fres?" alba grinned, ignoring eli's warning stares to stop as you hesitated. "um painting, cake, matchbox cars, watching ale play football, collecing shells, music class-" you listed off thing after thing as the girls laughter grew and eli sighed in dissapointment.

"so you are very gay pequeña, sí?" alexia teased though you were yet to realise what the joke was as you nodded. "super gay." you confirmed with a nod, shovelling another mouthful of food in as alba slapped the table and clutched her stomach.

"congratulations eli, you are three for three!" jenni grinned as eli only shook her head with another sigh. "your sisters not gay, she's six!" the woman huffed as you looked on confused. "i am! i promise." you argued with an eager nod.

"sí mami don't be homophobic! if fresa is gay let her be gay." alba clicked her tongue, attempting to stop her giggles at the glare her mami fixed her with but unable to as you shrugged and kept eating, still not sure what was even so funny.

the next day alexia had a game so safely riding on alba's shoulders you followed after eli and a few of your family members into the stands, alba stopping off to get you a snack at your insistent begging.

"there, now stop whining and eat." the barcelona cap on your head was pulled down over your eyes as you pushed it back with a huff and made yourself comfortable. "i paid for it." alba warned as she stole a large bite and you gave her a mean glare.

alexia wasn't starting and you grew restless waiting for her to come on, standing in your seat and bouncing anxiously as finally her number was called and you and your family cheered happily as she raced on to replace patri.

it was a scrappy game but barcelona with an injury time goal came back from being down at the half to win 3-2, and you waited impatiently for the crowds to clear so you could go down and see your sister.

finally with alba taking your hand all of you made a break for the barrier, alexia lifting you right over as you hugged her tightly. "good goal!" you grinned patting her flushed cheek as she chuckled.

"assist." she corrected, tugging the cap again down over your eyes as you huffed and pushed it back, spotting a few of her teammates lingering around and tapping her shoulder to put you down.

"hola pequeña!" leila grinned as you sprinted toward her, scooping you up and kissing your cheek as you pulled a face and wiped it off making her laugh.

busying yourself rushing from player to player to say hi you eventually arrived to jenni who lifted you up and onto her own shoulders, eli nodding her approval from across the pitch as jenni pointed to the tunnel with a raised eyebrow, the team starting to make their way inside.

you were delighted as jenni carried you off after them, not often allowed into the change rooms at away games, alexia catching up not long after and again pulling your hat down as you grunted and took it off and threw it at her.

"grumpy." your sister teased, tucking the hat away into her bag as jenni sat you down on the bench and you chattered away to anyone who would listen.

"hey chiqui, what did we learn at dinner last night?" jenni asked as you were sat on her knee speaking to patri, mariona and leila. "oh. i'm gay!" you remembered as jenni whispered in your ear, all three girls exchanging a look before bursting into laughter.

with jenni's encouragement you went around to most of the girls you knew well and spread the news until alexia returned from showering, grabbing you with a roll of her eyes.

"my mami's gonna kill you." the girl warned her girlfriend though jenni didn't miss the slight smile of amusement on her face as she steered you out of the change rooms once you'd waved your goodbyes.

"don't be homophobic mi amor!"

[hearthaleydunphy]

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off - OP • 81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: drinking?

synopsis: oscar knew exactly what to expect when his girlfriend told him she was going out for margaritas…

a/n: my “cuntry” playlist had taken over my mind. also i love osc. anyways tell me you like this or i will cry

she said “i’m going out with my girlfriends. Margaritas at the Holiday Inn” - oh, have mercy, my only thought - was tequila makes her clothes fall off

“Hey, I’m heading out,” Y/n said, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek as he sat in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hm. What are you guys up to this time?” He asked, softly pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before she could leave him.

“Margaritas,” She said nonchalantly, seeming to forget what happens everytime tequila hits her tongue.

“Well, be safe. Maybe grab an extra layer though,” Oscar Chuckled. Y/n lightly shoved him with a scoff but did, in fact, grab a jacket on her way out.

she’ll start by kicking out of her shoes - lose an earring in her drink - leave her jacket in a bathroom stall - drop a contact down the sink

Y/n grunted as she dropped down into the booth her and her friends had claimed as their own. She was quick to kick her heels off. One margarita and two songs deep and her feet were already killing her.

She was quick to finish off her drink once the heels were off. She place the glass on the table and reached over it to grab something from the other side of the booth, not realizing the backing of her earring had come off and the earring had fallen into the empty glass.

Kika was quick to replenish Y/n’s drink before dragging the girl back to the busy dance floor.

she don’t mean nothing - she’s just having fun - tomorrow she’ll say “oh, what have i done?” - her friends will joke about the stuff she lost - yeah, tequila makes her clothes fall off

As the night continued Y/n only lost more things. Oscar was not shocked when she stumbled into their apartment, her dress the only remaining piece of her outfit. Despite how late it was, he was quick to help her stumble through her night routine.

He knew she’d be confused and disappointed when she woke up the next morning and realizing she left behind her favorite jacket and heels at the club, but Y/n knew the real problem would come from the jokes about that night from her friends and Oscar himself. Right now, that did not matter to her cause she was back in the arms of the man she loved.