Tumgik
#But do any of them drink their own piss?
atomicc · 2 years
Text
I'm not very healthy yknow. But some of u on here should really consider having slightly better habits or u simply will Pass Away
9 notes · View notes
sophiamcdougall · 7 months
Text
I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again
I mean, I am. But still.
So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.
So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.
At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.
Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell
Tumblr media
So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.
I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.
This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.
Tumblr media
Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.
I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.
Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.
We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.
"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."
"A what," he asks.
"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"
"Oh! A turtle!" he says.
"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.
The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.
"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.
"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.
"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.
"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??
The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?
I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.
"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."
"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.
"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!
So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.
(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)
15K notes · View notes
tried-andtrueblue · 1 year
Text
thoughts on friday part 2
0 notes
ourautumn86 · 8 months
Text
come over
abby anderson x fem! reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pt2
summary; strangely enough, your number one enemy since kindergarten and captain of the basketball club of your college calls you up one night begging you to come over to her dorm room. after knocking on her door, things will take a turn that you would have never expected.
CW;; +18 content! minors dni!, cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, bullying and fights, teasing, oral sex (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), abby calls the strap her cock, jealousy, possessiveness, dacryphilia, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, finger fucking, hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!
Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.
You were having a really bad day. Not bad, horrible.
First of all, your alarm didn’t go off for some stupid reason and caused you to 1. getting late to school and 2. getting your teacher to lower your grade just because he’s a goddamn asshole that hates you.
Second of all, you’d forgotten your lunch and your wallet, so you were now starving unable to buy anything to eat (thank god one of your friends had shared with you her sandwich or else you would be dead by now). And third of all…
“And what do we have here?”
Her.
You rolled your eyes, feeling your skin heating up and your insides turning with disgust and anger as you turned around to face the most annoying fucking person you’ve ever met.
“Give it back, Anderson.”
Abigail Anderson, the name that would appear on your worst nightmares, the monster under your bed, the last person you’d ever want to live through the end of the world with... Your enmity had been going strong since kindergarten, when she had picked on you for your looks since day one just because. Then, she started to tell her friends and those around you to not go near you or else they’d catch lice.
She needed to be on top of you all the time; if there was a race on P.E, she’d make you trip with her foot to get you on your knees and win (leaving you all bloody and injured), if there were presentations to be made in front of the whole class she’d crack up jokes to make everyone laugh at you, giving you quite the public anxiety and if you somewhat got to win her in anything (probably at grades) she’d go nuts and get so pissed that she’d make your life impossible for the next few months by trashing your locker, ‘accidentally’ throwing her drinks all over you, telling the teachers that she saw you cheating…
It only got worse when you found your best friend: Ellie Williams. You became inseparable in high school. And she made your life impossible.
You stapled a poster at the university’s ‘news wall’. It was Ellie’s, she was about to go on a tour and had asked you if it would be okay to hang some posters to let everyone know. Through the years, The Fireflies had gained fame and a lot of followers.
“The freak is going on a tour?” she scoffed, raising her eyebrows. “Disgusting. She really thinks she’s gonna become a superstar or some shit…”
You fisted your hands, your heart being squished under the nickname that your friend had had to grow up with just because she liked things the others didn’t.
“Don’t call her that.” you said, your eyes straight into hers.
“ ‘Freak’?” she teased you, swaying away the poster when you tried and take it back. “What do you want me to call her then, hm? Delusional, maybe.” she thought out loud, when she noticed your furious expression, she simply shrugged. “Just stating facts.” the people around you had gathered to listen to your bickering. It was a daily coincidence now, Anderson being always the one looking for trouble. Some of them laughed at her words… Jerks. Just like her.
“You know what, Anderson? Sure, call her whatever you want.” you said, ripping from his hands the poster. “But I assure you, that you’ll never be not an inch of a girl that she is. All that height and still no brains. ” that made the crowd burst out in laughter. You were filled with proudness when you noticed her jaw tightening and her body going stiff. You were no outcast now, you were popular to be honest, and everybody knew the two of you since Anderson was the basketball team captain and you the cheerleader team captain. It was hell on the games, each of you always fighting each other off. But your teammates had grown so accustomed to it that they just laughed at your little fights. “So go ahead and run your mouth, ‘cause I’m sure yours will never get to places hers have never been.” you leaned in. “And hold your tongue, ‘cause Ellie knows how to use hers really well.” you whispered inches away from her face, giving her a wink before stapling the poster to the board and leaving her behind with tightened fists and heated cheeks.
It was a big day for you and your team, and you didn’t have time for play dates.
“y/n!” your eyes shone when to your ears the familiar sound of your best friend’s voice ringed.
You turned around, with your pompoms in hand and high ponytail, your college’s cheerleader uniform shining due to the lights that lightened the whole basketball court.
“Els!” you smiled, so bright that almost blinded, running and jumping on your friend’s arms, who easily caught you and squeezed you in a tight hug. “You made it!” you laughed as she twirled you around.
“Of course I made it, it’s your big night after all. Although I still don’t get this basketball and cheering thing…” she left a sweet peck on your cheek. “But look at you all dolled up! Is it for me?” she winked, leaning just the slightest in, enough for her to whisper on your ear.
You laughed, playfully pushing at her chest. “Of course Ellie, you know I’m all yours.” you winked back, making her let out a quick laughter.
“I really need to put a ring on you, Ms. Williams.” she pointed at you as the music that let the public know that the match was about to start started to play through the speakers and she backed off to the stairs to sit and leave you to your cheerleading.
“I’ll be waiting on it, Ms. Williams!” she sent you a flying kiss that only made you giggle and roll your eyes. You loved Ellie, she always found a way to make you laugh and that’s something that you truly appreciated. She was the only one that truly got you.
You turned around to call for your teammates, your smile fading as fast as your eyes bumped against those blue ones that you do well knew at this rate.
Anderson looked at you with such a pissed expression… Water bottle tightly clutched in one of her hands, about to burst. She let it fall to the ground along with the towel that stood on her shoulders when her coach called out for her with his whistle, giving Ellie, who was on the first step on your back a death glare as she ran to the center of the court to shake hands with the other team captain.
What the…
“Girls come on!!” you called for the cheerleaders on your team as you still looked at the stiff body of your incarnated hell. What the fuck is wrong with her?
“Assume positions!”
Not my problem.
You shrugged it off and started to cheer for your team along with the public that had come to watch the match, most of them students from both colleges. And through all of it, you tried and ignore the harsh eyes that bore holes on the back of your neck, even if your skin felt like being on fire.
It was late at night in your dorm room, your roommate having left to stay at her girlfriend’s house since it was Friday. You were snacking on some candy and chips as you watched your favorite show, Teen Wolf, along with Ellie, who had sneaked to your bedroom, laying in your bed fully covered and with your pjs on. After the game, which you sadly had lost, you had watched as a very infuriated Abby walked out of the court and the gym, not without giving you and Ellie, who was hugging you and congratulating you for your efforts regardless of the result of the match, a pretty harsh glare that clearly said ‘fuck you two.’
Jeez, you didn’t know what has gotten her so riled up that afternoon but you surely hoped for her to go and drown her sorrows somewhere as quietly as possible and leave you alone.
“Hell yeah!” you cheered to the power couple as they shared their first kiss, almost jumping and throwing all your chips around and on your best friend when Isaac and Allison finally shared their first kiss.
“Ugh. Really Allison?! I was expecting better from you.” the auburn haired guitarist gasped, acting hurt at the ‘betrayal’. She was team Scott. Which was obviously stupid since he now liked Kira.
“What are you talking about?! Scott has moved on, doesn’t she have the right to do so too?” Ellie gave you a side glance as in a ‘no’, but she quickly laughed when you hit her shoulder with a ‘hey!’.
Your attention was completely on the screen when your phone started buzzing on your side table. You took a new bite at your candy as you reached for it, still not focusing on it as you took. the call. It was probably your roommate calling to check in.
“Hello?” you talked into the line, waiting for a few seconds for an answer that never came. You checked the screen, ‘Unknown number’ showing on its center. You furrowed your eyebrows “Hello? Who’s this?” Ellie paused the series and rose to sit up on your bed along with you, mouthing a ‘who’s it?’. You simply shrugged and mouthed back a ‘no idea’. The sudden appearance of a sharp and heavy breathing caught you off ward for a couple of seconds before you rolled your eyes.
“Are you serious?” you huffed, thinking it was a stupid phone call. “We're in college, how about we stop playing Scream and start being more matures?” you said, and just as you were about to hang up, a rather familiar voice croaked out:
“y/n."
You froze, your breath hitching as your brain tried to convince itself that you had heard right “Anderson?” you were in shock for a couple of seconds, Ellie furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you in utter disbelief. When the casual anger grew inside you with just the mention of her name appeared you snapped at her. “Do you know what hour it is… No. Why the fuck are you calling me in first place?” you rolled your eyes. For just a couple of hours that you were enjoying yourself with your best friend, of course she had to come and ruin it. She always does and always will.
She was silent for an instant before her voice breaks out in a whimper that makes your stomach flip.
“Please.”
“W…What?” your eyebrows were knitted together so hard it was painful. Ellie just hits you in the arm, silently asking you to tell her what’s going on. You just swatted her hand away and lift a finger to quiet her.
“Please.” she repeated.
“Are you drunk or something? You should-“ you started, but she was quick to cut you off.
“y/n…” that was something different. The way your name fell from her lips in such need, hunger… “Come over. Please come over. I need you so bad…”
“I-“
“y/n, what is it?” Ellie spoke up, and you could hear the tension from the other part of the line rise.
“Fuck. Is Williams there with you?” Abby affirmed more than asked.
“y/n!” Ellie asked again.
“y/n.” but the voice of Anderson on the other line had you too out of focus. The way you could hear the begging on her tone, the need…
You didn’t know what had gotten over you, but you found yourself quick on your feet to grab your dorm keys.
“Wait for me.”
Ellie stood up as well and watch you hang up and made your way out of your room after putting on a pair of shoes.
“Where are you going?” Ellie inquired, completely and utterly lost. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be right back, I promise. I think there’s something wrong with Anderson. You can continue with the serie and use my bed, alright?” you quickly muttered, and when you caught her stepping closer and raising her hand to say something and find out whatever the hell was going on, you closed the door on her face.
You made your way over to her room’s wing, having been there before to parties and so. And before you knew it, you had knocked on her door. You didn’t have to wait a long time before she appeared on its threshold, her normally perfectly combed and braided hair being a mess, shirtless and with only a pair of sweats and a sports bra on. She looked like a mess, with red cheeks, swollen bitten lips, glassed eyes and shaky breathing.
“Anderson, what the hell are you…” a scream almost got ripped out of you at the harsh yank that took place on your arm. Before you knew it you had been pulled inside and smashed against the now closed door of her room, her body towering over yours and her breath caressing your face.
Fuck. You’ve never been this close before.
“You’re driving me insane.” she said, one of her hands cupping your cheek, dark shiny eyes connecting with yours before they’d drift back to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me all day. Knowing that Williams got to touch you, taste you… Is killing me. And her being in your room? Having you in her arms? Thinking about her just touching you is… Fuck.” you chocked. You didn’t understand. Wasn’t she supposed to hate you? Despise you? Then why…? “I can’t stop imagining her kissing you, holding you…” her thumb pressed over your bottom lip, tugging on it, admiring. “You were supposed to pay attention to me. You were supposed to think about me.” your heart was thumping against your ribs, and you felt like dying when she harshly kissed you. It was fast, and angry. Her tongue was quick to push inside your mouth, your teeth clashing and your body being pulled against her. You whimpered, your hands finding her hair as you pulled her closer. You’d never felt this way. How your whole body seemed to combust, the shaking of your limbs, the thumping of your heart…
But what was going on? ‘Pay attention to her’? ‘Think of her’? What was that supposed to mean? Had Anderson always treat you badly to get your attention? To get under your skin one way or another?
You were burning, so badly that she felt like snow.
“Fuck.” she muttered as she pulled away. “Been dreaming of doing that since the first time you yelled at me.” you whimpered when her warm hands took a harsh hold of your waist, pulling you against her close and tight enough for you to feel her body heat, her hard nipples through her bra.
Her mouth was back on yours, and your whole world was spinning. Her hair on your hands, her gasps against your lips, her pine scent…
“Yeah, that’s right.” she muttered, a little smirk showing in her factions when she noticed your dazed and unfocused eyes. “Focus on me. Just me.” she whispered on your ear before her lips latched to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to mark you up. You moaned, her hands sneaking inside your pj’s shirt and slowly making its way upwards, towards your chest.
“Fuck, Anderson.” you gasped when her warm hands took your tits, massaging them and rolling your nipples in between her fingers as she pressed a leg in between your legs, making your aching pussy brush against the lean muscle of her thigh.
“Abby.” she corrected. “It’s Abby for you, baby.”
“Abby.” you moaned when she pushed upwards with her leg, helping you ride it.
“That’s right. But you need to say it a little bit louder, hm? Need to let everybody know that it’s me who you are moaning for.” you whimpered at her words, her large hands leaving your chest to take your hips and pick you up to make her way to her king size bed. She lifted you so easily it was dizzying, the muscles of her arms popping
You felt almost crushed against the duvet when she pinned you down to it underneath her weight. Almost, ‘cause right at that exact moment, you just wished she could be closer, she could be harsher, smush you against the bed and fuck you senseless ‘till you are nothing more than a babbling mess.
“That’s right.” she smirked when you pulled her closer, choked when her hands were once again pulling your top up slowly. “Fuck. You drive me insane.” she muttered when your chest was fully uncovered. “Fucking beautiful.” you moaned when her mouth left wet kisses on your chest. Her tongue circled your nipples as one of her hands made its way to the seam of your pajama pants and panties, which stood completely soaked in arousal.
“Abby.” you cried out when her fingers caressed you from over the lace of your underwear, chuckling at the wetness of them.
“You are so wet for me already, such a good girl…” you almost whimpered, your cheeks blushing at the praise, something that didn’t go unnoticed. “You liked that, hm? Like to be my good little girl?” you nodded, your legs shaking when she finally pushed down your underwear and pjs to touch you. You gasped when her rough and thick fingers pressed against your core, sliding through your folds, pooled in your arousal. “So fucking wet.” she cursed as she circled your clit, making you moan. Her touch was electrifying. “Is all of this for me?” you once again nodded. “I need to hear your pretty voice. Speak up for me, sweetheart.”
“Yes… It’s all for you.” you managed to sputter out.
“Mmh…” she hummed happily with the answer, smirking when you let out a loud moan as she pushed her middle finger inside of you, instantly hitting that spongy spot that could make you come over and over again. “Then I guess that if it’s all for me… I could have a taste. Isn’t that right?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you suddenly felt her tongue around your clit at the same time as she thrusted her finger in and out of you, slowly enough to have you gripping at her hair and bucking your hips in search of more.
She complied, starting to eat you out like a woman starved. And she kind of was, having been craving you for years and years… She craved you, needed you so badly that her composure had plummeted once you’ve told her that Ellie had touched you, kissed you, tasted you first…
She wanted you. Wanted you to be solely and completely hers.
“Ah, Abby, shit…” you were so sensitive. More than usually. Was it because Abby was too good at eating you out or because it was Abby who was eating you out?
“Louder, baby. I need you to be louder for me.” she said before going back to you, her tongue lapping up at your juices and adding another finger. Their thickness made you cry out her name loud enough for the whole floor to hear. You just hoped that there was no teacher doing the check-ins that night or you’d be screwed.
“Abby, I’m… I’m gonna…” your grip tightened on her hair.
“You’re gonna come? Gonna come on my face, hm?” she curved her fingers upwards, relentlessly hitting your g spot over and over again, pulling you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead, come for me. Let me have it.”
She didn’t need to say it twice. With her tongue back circling your clit, you moaned as you came, harsh, on her tongue, her helping you to extend you climax by thrusting in and out her fingers whilst lapping at your release, drinking everything you had to offer in between moans and hums.
When she let go of you, licking her two fingers clean, you were a flustered mess; with your hair sticking everywhere, red cheeks, swollen lips and glossy eyes. And she wasn’t that different from you, with her chin and red puffy lips shiny with your juices, her cheeks were flushed and her hair a beautiful blonde mess that you had created in between tugs and caresses. She looked beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn’t help dragging her towards you to taste yourself off of her lips, one of your hands finding her aching pussy, soaking her panties. She groaned in your mouth, pulling from your hair to part ways.
“Abby…” you cried out, your eyes half-lidded with need, your pussy aching for her.
“What is it, hm?” oh but she already knew… “Haven’t you had enough already? I gave you my fingers and my mouth, is that not enough for you? What a needy slut…” you moaned at her harsh tone and degradation, the contrast with the recent praise making your skin burn and your body cry for her. You needed her so badly… So much that you swore you could die. “Want me to fuck you, hm? Want me to make you cum all over my cock? Have you all brainless as I use you?”
“Yes please Abby, please, I want it.”
“So pretty begging for me, do you want it that bad?” you nodded, squirming under her touch and whimpering when she gave your thigh a harsh slap. “Can’t hear you, beautiful.”
“Yes.” you cried out, loving how harsh she was treating you, loving the idea that she would use you just for her pleasure.
“Then say it. Beg me to fuck you.” another spank.
“Please Abby, I want you to make me cum all over your cock, please, please, please… I need it. I need you.” tears swelled in your eyes as you stuttered.
“Good girl. Wasn’t that hard, was it?” she said with a smirk, quickly shoving his sweats and underwear down her thighs to discard them aside and reach out for her drawers, pulling out her strap. You almost choked at the size. You couldn’t take that.
It was huge. So thick and large that you knew that she’d tear you apart, stretch you out so good that would leave you sobbing and drooling against her pillow as she fucked into you over and over again.
“What? Bigger than William’s?” she teased you as she towered over you, strapping it to her waist. You would have answered if you weren’t too focused on the pink of its head and on the veins of its sides. On her pussy too. “You’re staring, pretty girl.” you blushed, looking away and into her eyes.
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Abby.” you snapped, and she groaned, once again pinning you underneath her and kissing you feverishly. You parted your legs for her to position herself in between them.
“There it is. That fucking mouth of yours. How about I fuck the attitude out of you, hm?” you gasped on her mouth when you felt the head of the strap play with your cunt, slowly dragging up and down in between your slicked folds to lube it up, teasing you at your entrance, pushing just the slightest against it. You were so fucking wet… More than you had ever been before.
“Fuck Abby, please…” you whimpered, your hips thrusting against the tip of her cock. You needed it inside.
Your nails found her back as she finally, after hearing your pleads and begging, aligned herself and started to push the tip of her cock inside, leaving you breathless at the stretch.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” she hushed you as you whimpered with every inch. “You are gonna do good for me, isn't that right baby? You are gonna take it, gonna take my cock and cum on it over and over again, right?” you nodded, sinking your nails deeper in her skin, deep enough to make her bleed. But Abby didn’t care, ‘cause she was finally making you hers, and you were so goddamn tight she was losing her mind. She couldn’t even pull backwards at the clenching of your walls.
You were crying of pleasure and due to the overwhelming sensation of her huge cock when she finally had settled herself fully inside, the tip reaching places you’d never dreamed of, the girth stretching your walls so good it was almost painful. Almost.
"Fuck. Look at you. Already crying and I haven't begun to fuck you yet.” you moaned when she started to slowly fuck into you, so deep that you were going crazy. You needed more, so much more. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”
“More. Please Abby, more.” you called out for her, your whimpers filling the room more and more as she started to move faster and faster.
“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking take it.” she groaned, lost on how good you felt. She never wanted to leave. Never wanted to stop feeling you this close. “Such a good girl.”
You moaned, your eyes turning white at the pleasure. This was like nothing you had experienced before.
“Tell me, did Williams fucked you this good, huh?” she asked, taking your cheeks with her right hand as she rolled your clit with her left to make you look at her. “Did she make you drool? Made you cry?”
You shook your head, but she wasn’t happy with that.
“Say it. Say that no one’s has fucked you like me. Say it, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours.”
“No one has ever… ever fucked me like you.” you somehow achieved to say in between moans and gasps.
“That’s right. Look at you, your pussy is taking me so good… Sucking me in as if you don’t want me to leave.”
Suddenly you were in all fours, your chest against the mattress as she pounded inside of you harder and harder, so hard that you could feel her in your cervix, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried out, drooling on her pillow, tears spilling due to how good she was making you feel.
Her hands found your hips, pulling you against her hips with every hard thrust, leaving you breathless.
You were a babbling and moaning mess, incapable to form any words, even her name.
“Look at you, so cock drunk you can’t even speak.” she said, and moaned when the strap rubbed perfectly her puffy clit. “Such a slut.” you whimpered when she gave you a harsh slap on your ass, her eyes focusing on how her dick disappeared in and out of your pussy, which now seemed to be molding around her and just her.
“Abby…” you dragged the ‘y’ as she sped up, fucking you brainless, calling her name over and over again.
She could feel the way you started to clench around the silicone. The wet noises of your juices and her thrusts filled the room with your high pitched moans. You were close. So fucking close…
“Abby, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna…” your voice was so fucked up due to your screams that you swore you’d have a sore throat tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care.
“That’s alright sweetheart. Why don’t you come all over my dick, hm? Let me see you fall apart.” and you did. You came so hard you saw stars, your ears ringing as you squirted all over her bed sheets. “Fuck, good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” she groaned at the sight of your cunt gushing around her whole cock.
You were an incoherent mess as you came over and over again, drooling on her pillow and throwing her over the edge with a ‘fuck’.
And maybe and just maybe, you stopped hating Abby that much from now on.
‘Cause we all know what they say… From hatred to love there is only one step.
-
a/n; i hoped y’all liked this college abby!! love you!!!!🩵
REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<33333
5K notes · View notes
beskarandblasters · 4 months
Text
Bluffing Season
Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist
Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍
Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.
Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Late October
Beep Beep Beep
Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida. 
You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.  
“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.
He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”
Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?
“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.
He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor. 
-
Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him. 
But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!
You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks. 
“Hey!”
Not again. 
“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster. 
“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon. 
…Is he fucking for real? 
You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit. 
“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”
He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.
“I guess not.”
“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.
The fucking nerve of that man. 
The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door. 
-
The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case. 
“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”
“Sure! Which one would you like?”
“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle. 
“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”
“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”
You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious. 
“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle. 
“Black is fine.”
You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks. 
You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?
You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out. 
“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”
“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter. 
The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan. 
“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!” 
She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you. 
“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving. 
Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst. 
Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated. 
…Or so you thought.
Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year. 
You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally. 
Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?
You know what, why not?
You respond with: 
Oooh, what time and where?
You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You  check your phone and Ally says;
7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there. 
She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling. 
You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?
Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…
You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face. 
“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder. 
Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”
Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys? 
“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder. 
“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before. 
“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand. 
“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile. 
“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair. 
“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”
“Uh, she’s not coming.”
“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”
“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out. 
“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy. 
He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter. 
“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.
“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”
He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife. 
“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”
“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly. 
You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.
“You want me to leave the fish?”
“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.
“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design. 
“That better?” 
“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”
“I get that-”
“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter. 
“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start. 
“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders. 
You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling. 
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly. 
“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”
“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face. 
“By all means,” Frankie says. 
“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”
“Hard cider?”
“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator. 
You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick? 
You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly. 
“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says. 
“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced. 
Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally. 
“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember. 
Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking. 
“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty. 
“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him. 
Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head. 
“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”
“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?
You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets. 
And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.
You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?
“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.
“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond. 
Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone? 
But also… why not? 
You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!” 
You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost. 
“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs. 
Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”
The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”
You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?
“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny. 
“Down the hall on your right,” he says.
You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings? 
You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny. 
You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”
“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”
“I’d like that,” you smile. 
You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.
“Happy birthday by the way,” you say. 
He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?
You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics: 
1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks. 
2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up. 
3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him. 
4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole. 
And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him. 
-
Mid-December 
Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time. 
The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever. 
From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all. 
But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too. 
Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving. 
“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone. 
“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone. 
“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”
“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”
“Uhh-”
“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”
“I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”
“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”
As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?
“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”
As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway… 
“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.
“Hi,” you say awkwardly.
“I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Okay…”
“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”
“Spit it out.”
“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”
Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter. 
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not being serious.”
“I am.”
“But… why?”
“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”
“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I know it’s not.”
“So, you’ll help me?”
“Why can’t you just go home alone?”
“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”
“What’s in it for me?” you sigh. 
“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”
“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”
“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”
You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once. 
“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself. 
He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.
“Wait!”
He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”
“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.
“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.
“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.
“How long are we there?”
“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”
It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?
“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”
“Savannah, Georgia.”
Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.
“Okay,” you sigh. 
“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”
“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”
You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”
“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon. 
You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time. 
“Hello?”
“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.
“What happened with your neighbor?”
“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”
“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”
“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”
“And that is?”
“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”
“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”
“What’s his name?”
“Frankie.”
“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”
Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.
“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”
“Alright. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?
-
It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you. 
“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”
“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes. 
You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind. 
It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.
You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course. 
For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”
“Okay…” you say awkwardly.
Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again. 
“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”
You were dreading this conversation.
“Yeah…”
“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”
“I know,” you sigh.
“Think you can do that?”
“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”
“Right…”
You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go. 
“I guess we have to get to know each other.”
“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”
“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”
“Gotcha.”
“What about you?”
“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”
“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”
“I joined right after I got out of high school.”
“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”
“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”
“Gotcha. What do you do now?”
“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”
“We don’t have to talk about-”
“Our friend passed.”
“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”
He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic. 
“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”
“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”
“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”
“I pretended I was sick.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”
“Right.”
“She didn’t even know my full name.”
The cake that you made. 
“Yeah…”
“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”
“About that.”
“Hm?”
“Do you know where she got that cake from?”
“No.”
“She came to my store.”
“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”
“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”
“I know…” he sighs. 
“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”
“You did?”
“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle. 
“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat. 
“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask. 
“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”
“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”
“That about sums me up I guess.”
“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”
“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”
“And also not cutting your lawn.”
“Listen-”
“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease. 
“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”
“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically. 
“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”
“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”
He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet. 
It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you. 
-
You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”
“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn. 
“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”
“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”
You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.
“I noticed,” you say coldly. 
Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!
“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”
“You and your friends are just… loud.”
“Oh.”
“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”
“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him. 
“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not. 
“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”
“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”
“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases. 
“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”
“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”
“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm. 
“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”
“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”
“I think so, too.”
Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead. 
“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say. 
“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot. 
“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door. 
“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side. 
He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. 
“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom. 
“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods. 
You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance. 
You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up. 
“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag. 
You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it. 
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got. 
“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”
“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”
“I think I’m all set,” you nod. 
You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.
“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag. 
“Oh god, why?” 
“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”
“Okay.”
“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”
“You’re the baby of the family?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. It just tracks.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”
“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this. 
“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”
“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”
“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”
You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to. 
“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face. 
“I think so?”
“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”
“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”
“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”
“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”
“That sounds tough.”
“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.” 
“I understand,” Frankie says softly. 
“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”
“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”
“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.” 
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”
“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”
The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug. 
“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head. 
“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”
“You know I like the hat, Ma.”
She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part. 
“It’s so nice to meet you!�� she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met. 
“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands. 
“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile. 
“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”
“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house. 
It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples. 
“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her. 
“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”
“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”
“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”
“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth. 
“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”
“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet. 
“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”
“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”
“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”
Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. 
“Tired?” you chuckle. 
“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”
“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says. 
“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically. 
“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. 
“Where did you put the lemon bars?”
“In the refrigerator.”
“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”
“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”
“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs. 
“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs. 
“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie. 
Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left. 
“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him. 
“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost. 
“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture. 
“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment. 
“Definitely my dad,” he says. 
You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s. 
“Are you tired?” he asks. 
“A little,” you yawn. 
“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly. 
“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 
“Oh, right. Just making sure.”
He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other. 
“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”
He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes. 
“…I won’t while we’re home.”
“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes. 
“Goodnight?” he says. 
“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle. 
…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?
“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to be cold.”
“What’s your solution then?”
“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”
“No, do not do that.”
“Or there’s the other option.”
“Uh huh…”
“I could hold you.”
“…You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“…Fine.”
You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something. 
“Better?”
“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”
As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass. 
…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?
Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep. 
-
You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence. 
Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?
Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side. 
“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily. 
“That was nice of her.”
“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”
“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 
“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge. 
“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”
“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”
“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…
“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”
You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits. 
“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.
“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”
“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off. 
A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be. 
“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”
“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza. 
“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”
“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie. 
“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says. 
“I could tell,” you snicker.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.
“What about you, dear?” his mom asks. 
“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”
“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”
“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”
“Whatever,” Frankie sighs. 
“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink. 
You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid. 
“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head. 
“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare. 
“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”
“No,” Frankie says quickly. 
“Oh yes,” you laugh. 
“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh. 
Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.
“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”
“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs. 
“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her. 
“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says. 
As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”
“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell. 
“You want to shower?”
Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”
“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”
He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet. 
“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet. 
“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…
What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?
You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs. 
A knock on the door brings you back to reality. 
“Can I come in?” Frankie asks. 
“Uhh-”
“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”
“I guess.”
He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself. 
But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute? 
You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…
That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable. 
You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while. 
Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent. 
-
The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy. 
You roll over and ask, “You okay?”
“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”
“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”
“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”
“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”
“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”
“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 
“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”
“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”
“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”
He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.
You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove. 
“Good morning you two,” she smiles. 
“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”
“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”
“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”
“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”
“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you. 
To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”
As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite. 
“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter. 
“Yeah?”
“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”
“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”
“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?” 
“Nah.”
That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida. 
Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”
“Around five or so.”
It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower. 
“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind. 
“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”
“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove. 
You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family. 
Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door. 
“Can I come in?”
“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara. 
He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink. 
“You look…”
“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him. 
“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide. 
“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”
“No rush. Take your time.”
You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. 
“You look beautiful, honey,” she says. 
“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her. 
“Francisco’s in the shower?”
“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets. 
She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table. 
“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.
“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches. 
“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says. 
“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.
“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”
Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again. 
“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags. 
Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”
You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?
“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs. 
“Hi.”
“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”
“I hope so,” you say.
You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly. 
You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening. 
“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts. 
He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!” 
You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”
“She’s the oldest?”
He nods. It makes sense. 
She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand. 
“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases. 
“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”
You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged. 
Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name. 
“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”
This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”
“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say. 
But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations. 
“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie. 
“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”
“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”
Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive. 
And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived. 
Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.
You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course. 
Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”
“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.
“Go ahead,” Rosa says.
“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”
Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”
The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect. 
“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching. 
“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair. 
He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”
“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand. 
“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”
The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two. 
With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off
“Frankie?”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”
He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.
“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”
He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story. 
“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”
“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.
“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”
“I get it,” you say softly.
“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”
He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity. 
“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath. 
You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty. 
“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”
“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”
“Understandable.”
“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”
“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”
That actually gets him to laugh. 
“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”
You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie. 
“I know that was a lot…” he says.
“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him. 
“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”
“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear. 
“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep. 
-
You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful. 
And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend. 
“Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight… 
Whatever, worry about that later. 
“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”
“Already took care of it.”
“Really?” 
“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?” 
“Right,” you say, lying on your back. 
“Merry Christmas,” he smiles. 
“Merry Christmas,” you respond. 
“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”
You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase. 
“What did I get her?”
“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”
“Ooh, good idea.”
He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it. 
“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”
“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs. 
You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree. 
You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away. 
“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was. 
Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”
The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you. 
Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table. 
The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars. 
Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.
“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.
That earned him a smack on the arm.
Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.
“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.
“Where are we going?” 
“For a walk,” he says. 
You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”
“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”
“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.
He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.
“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”
“Look at the back,” he says softly.
You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you. 
He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”
“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.
And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night. 
“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.
“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”
“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”
“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss. 
After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”
You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time. 
Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more. 
“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”
“You’re sorry?”
“Well yeah, I-”
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”
“How long?”
“Soon after you moved in next door.” 
“Really? I thought you hated me.”
“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.
“Even when you were with Heather?”
“Mhm.”
“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”
“...Maybe,”
“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.
This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.
“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.
“Yeah?”
“What about like… your mom?”
“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before. 
He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already. 
“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.
Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.
“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.
He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so. 
Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you. 
“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.
“Oh??”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”
“Uhh-”
“Your bathroom window faces mine.”
“...It does?”
“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”
“Oh yeah? And then what?”
He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”
Your whole body shudders.
“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.
“Are you begging, cariño?”
“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.
“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.
“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.
“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”
It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.
“Y-yes…” you confess.
“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips. 
“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”
“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.
“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”
“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.
“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.
“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.
You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.
“Look at me,” he softly commands.
You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.
“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.
“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.
“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.
“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.
You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.
New Year’s Eve
You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.
You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.
“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back. 
Tumblr media
Tag list: @wannab-urs @noxturnalpascal @hiddenbabynyc @littlegrungegirlaf @hyzer34 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @paleidiot @runningmom94 @butiknewyoudlinger @sydneyinacoma @yorksgirl @wilderwizard @hnt-escape @axshadows @fanficlover1414 @lavema @yazsos @tarot-freader @dundienominee @pedropascalfan221 @khindahra @janaispunk @tuquoquebrute @perotovar @clawdee @immarocketman @whoreofabuckethead @grogusmum @idungoofed @fluffygoffpanda @meveispunk @beefrobeefcal @magpiepillsjunior @pr0ximamidnight @elvinaa @survivingandenduring @lincolndjarin @missladym1981 @heavennumber2 @covetyou @anoverwhelmingdin @hellfire-state-of-mind @joels-shitty-puns @stevie75
1K notes · View notes
ickadori · 4 months
Note
OMG I love you mean reader au, I have a question!!
¿Does the reader ever makes Yuuji jealous on purpose? Maybe with someone they don't see as often because everyone close knows Yuujis girl backs and also bites , so I can see her doing it with maybe someone from Kyoto.
I feel Yuuji is the kind to let it pass or act oblivious cuz he knows I would piss her off but when they are on private he let's her know that playing stupid games lead you to win stupid prices.
Anyways as you can see I'm super super invested in you au, you are an amazing writer❤️
[cws] fem reader. i named the kyoto student ryo. sukuna takes over at the end. anal at the end. overstimulation. half a sprinkle of impact play -> like 2 spanks.
You’re always so dismissive to everyone, especially to those who aren’t in your inner circle. If you don’t interact with them on a daily basis, you couldn’t care less to hear what they have to say, and it’s not an unusual sight to see you rudely walk away mid conversation.
The same could be said for the Kyoto students.
You weren’t friendly with any of them, and had even ended up on bad terms with a few due to your nature. Yuji had been sure he was going to have to intervene in at least five times with the same person in order to keep the peace during their impromptu visit, but to his surprise, to everyone’s surprise, you had been on your best behavior.
You had greeted everyone, albeit with an annoyed ‘hey’ followed by a roll of your eyes, but that was leagues better than what you had done last year! When Todo had intruded on you and Yuji’s conversation, you hadn’t tried to smash Maki’s cursed tool against his head like you usually do, but had rather pursed your lips and excused yourself from the conversation, leaving him to listen to tales about Takada and other nonsensical things.
All in all, the day was going alright. You hadn’t gotten into a heated argument with anyone, nor had he sensed any spikes in cursed energy for the last hour or so that you had been out of his sight. Deciding that he’d just about enough of Todo droning on and on about the feeling of Takada’s hand in his own, Yuji begins to plot his escape.”
“It was a riveting—”
“You heard that?” Yuji cuts Todo off, eyebrows furrowed as he cups his hand to his ear. “I think that’s my girlfriend screaming in agonizing pain—gotta go.” He jogs away, ignoring the call of his name, and snickers to himself as he rounds the corner, one hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone.
Just where are you, he thinks to himself as he scrolls to your contact, a smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of your contact picture. It showcased you giving him an annoyed look, face scrunched up cutely as you had your hand raised, a failed attempt to block your face from the camera. He shoots you a quick text asking where you are, followed by a barrage of heart emojis and kiss emojis, and he stops in front of the vending machine as he waits for your reply, deciding to buy himself and you a drink.
He’s halfway through his soda when you suddenly come rounding the corner, and he smiles as he pockets his phone, only for his smile to falter a bit when he notices that you’re smiling too, at someone that isn’t him—which isn’t a problem in and of itself! Yuji isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but it’s weird to see you look so… jolly. Who are you talking to?
A second person comes around the corner, and his face sours as he recognizes it as Kyoto’s newest 3rd year, Ryo. Yuji tries to be friendly with everyone, but he written the man off from the moment he saw him, not liking the way his eyes had raked you up and down while you had standing right beside Yuji—what was he, blind? It had been so obvious the two of you were together, what with the way Yuji had been trying to fuse your mouths together.
“Yuji,” you call, eyes crinkling as you grab ahold of Ryo’s wrist and pulls him over. Yuji takes another sip of his soda, cursing to himself when he feels Sukuna start to stir inside him. “You remember Ryo, right?”
It’s a tease—he knows it is. He had spent the better half of an hour that day complaining to you about him, while Sukuna had laughed and suggested he ‘pluck his fucking eyes out next time, brat, problem solved’, which he would never do, obviously, but the idea was a bit enticing…especially now, as Yuji is forced to watch the way Ryo takes in your ass when you stretch up to place a kiss on his cheek while you take your drink from his hand.
“He says he’s been thinking about transferring here, right?” You direct your attention to Ryo as you spin around, his eyes darting up to your face, and Yuji can’t keep his clear annoyance off his face.
“Right. I’m really liking the vibe here for some reason.” He grins, and Yuji nearly drags you away in response.
“Hm. Wonder why that is?” You giggle, fucking giggle, and an anger that’s part his own and part his curse’s begins to fester in his gut. Yuji sees the two of you stiffen, no doubt due to Sukuna’s sudden spike in energy, and he gathers the back of your shirt in his hand, the veins along the back of his hand protruding as he tugs you back into him. “Y… Yuji?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” His chin hovers over your shoulder as he stares Ryo down, and something must show in his eyes then, because Ryo is flinching back and stuttering over his words as he takes slow steps back. “Did you want Sukuna?”
“No.” You hastily reply, and the bottle in your hand crinkles as your grip on it tightens.
“‘S that because you think I’m gonna go easy on you?”
“…”
“Because I’m not.”
~
The unmistakable ‘plap plap’ of Yuji’s hips snapping into your own is loud in the confined space, and you lift a shaky hand, intending on using it to push at his stomach. It’s snatched and pushed down against your chest before you can even fully raise it, and your mouth opens on a silent cry when he slams his cock into you.
“Yu—!”
He grunts, the hand that had been holding him above you moving to cover your mouth, leaving him no choice but to crush you with his weight. “Don’t -shit- call my name.” He rasps, beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose just as he rolls his hips into your, pelvis grinding down against your clit with every movement.
You’re sensitive, sore, and every touch, every stroke, sends a pleasurable pain zapping through your body. You don’t know how many times you’ve come, or how long it’s been since Yuji practically dragged you into a supply closet and got you down on your back, with Sukuna goading him on the entire time.
‘You gonna finally put her in her place, brat?’
‘Y’know she’s gonna do it again unless you punish her.’
‘Look how she was smiling. She did it on purpose. You’re too soft on her - let me deal with it.’
‘What’re you doing, idiot? Get your mouth off her cunt. Is this a fucking reward or a punishment?’
‘Slap her around—shut up, girl. Do it. She likes it, see? Look at the mess she’s making on our cock.’
A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling and your toes curling in your loafers, and your mouth falls open when he brushes against that spot, eyebrows pulling together as a fresh bout of tears spring to your eyes.
“You crying now?” Sukuna snarks, and Yuji falters, his eyes popping open from where they had been squeezed shut to look at your face. “Don’t fucking stop, she’s fine, she’s—”
“Yuji.”
“Sweet girl,” he answers, hands moving to cup the sides of your face. “Don’t cry - are you sensitive?” You weakly nod, cunt fluttering as he runs his nose along your cheek. “Do you want me to be softer? Just tell…” Yuji goes slack against you, and your eyes widen, hands moving to push at his shoulders, only for them to tense under your grip as a low laugh leaves him.
“Sukuna,” it comes out in a pitiful whine, and you wince at the slow drag of his cock along your walls as he pulls out, thick shaft sliding up between your folds as he bumps the head against your clit.
“It’s been a while,” his head pulls back, allowing you to see the grin stretched across his face, and you drop your gaze as you keep your mouth, earning another laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” His touch is rough as he grips at your sides, nails biting into your skin, and you gasp when he’s suddenly flipping you over, one hand leaving your waist to smack at your ass. “Do it how I like it.”
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shuffle so you’re up on your knees, butt lifted into the air while your chest is flush to the floor. Sukuna smacks you again, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out when he spreads you open, his hips jutting forward so he can rut his cock against your cunt, a jolt racing up your spine when he goes over your clit.
“Ah, poor pussy is sensitive, yeah?” His tone is mocking, but you nod nonetheless. “Hm.” He pops the tip into your hole, fucking it in just a bit before pulling it back out to continue what he was doing. “Guess we’ve gotta pick another hole then, don’t we?”
“Suku—ah!” His hand reaches underneath you to deliver a swift slap to your cunt, fingers catching your clit, and you let out a pitiful little whimper.
“Quiet.” He spreads you open further, and a shaky breath leaves you when a glob of split lands on your puckered hole, his thumb spreading the wetness around before slowly pushing it in. “Only the good little girls get to speak.”
His cockhead replaces his thumb, and your breath comes out in pants as he eases himself in, stretching you impossibly wide as he forces himself to fit.
“I hope you’re watching, brat — no worries if you aren’t, I don’t mind repeating the lesson later.”
2K notes · View notes
rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month
Text
can i hold it?
Tumblr media
words: 2k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, piss kink!!!, getting peed on haha lol :), shower sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex
you whine as rafe tries to pull away from you, making him laugh and press a kiss to your cheek. “just going pee baby.”
“take me with you.” you raise your arms up.
“to the bathroom?” rafe questions, raising his eyebrow.
“yeah.” you nod. “you said we could spend all day together, if you’re leaving this bed then so am i.” “alright, suit yourself.” rafe shrugs, leaning down to pick you up bridal style, walking the short distance to the attached bathroom. he sets you down on the counter as you stretch, having been cuddling and kissing since you arrived at rafes house, not wanting to do anything else.
rafe walks over to the toilet, flipping the lid up. you watch with fascination as he pulls at the tie on his sweatpants, the string unraveling so he can push them and his underwear down before pulling out his cock.
“wait.” you interrupt rafe.
“what baby? i really gotta piss?” rafe asks with a sigh.
“can i hold it for you?” you ask, not able to keep the excitement from your voice. “you know, while you pee.” “sure.” rafe shrugs. “but hurry the fuck up, i’m about to burst.” rafe had stayed in bed as long as he possibly could as to not break your relaxed state, which only led to urgently needing to go.
you quickly hop off the counter. you gently grab rafes soft dick, having only touched him a few times when soft, and always with the intention of getting him hard quickly.
you aim towards the toilet bowl, gasping when rafe begins to pee. you watch in fascination, surprised how much you like the feeling in your hand, even a little saddened when he finishes.
“gotta shake it a little baby.” rafe instructs, making you look at him with confusion in your eyes, wondering if he was just wanting you to give him a handjob.
“to get the last few drops out.” rafe explains.
“oh.” you nod, turning back to look at his dick, shaking it a little as final drops of piss fling off his tip.
“perfect.” rafe smiles, taking his cock and tucking it back into his underwear. “thanks baby.” “you’re welcome.” you smile, knowing you need to recreate the experience again immediately.
rafe heads back towards the bed, expecting you to follow as he flops down. “i… i gotta go get a drink of water.” you say quickly, rushing out of the room and towards the kitchen, getting a glass for yourself and one for rafe, making sure to fill his up fully.
“got one for you too.” you smile as you come back into the room, handing the glass to rafe who takes a hearty sip but then sets it on the nightstand. 
“thanks princess.” he smiles. “now come give me a kiss.” 
you wrap your arms around rafe as you fall into the bed, his lips finding yours as you cuddle up to him, legs twisting together.
“i love days like this.” you admit with a happy sigh, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “where we can just relax alone.” “i love it too, baby.” rafe says softly. “sorry i’ve been so busy lately. shits just been wild. but we are home together now.” “thank you.” you mumble, running your lips teasingly over rafes until he can’t resist any longer, pushing forward to complete the kiss. rafe has been busy over the past couple of weeks, which resulted in you barely getting any attention, so he cleared the entire day just for the two of you, no plans, no friends, no parties, just the two of you.
“can i pick the movie?” you ask rafe, even though he always lets you chose (except that one time he really wanted to watch john wick)
“of course.” rafe hands you the remote, and you quickly get to work pulling up a film. “ponyo!” “you love ponyo.” rafe says with a roll of his eyes. he discounted the film based on the cutesy style, but always really enjoys every time you choose to watch it.
“shh. be quiet and drink your water.” you mumble, reaching for you own glass as well, hoping if rafe sees you drinking that it would spur him to gulp down more, and thankfully he does take a drink.
you cuddle up to rafe as the movie begins, watching as he occasionally drinks more of his water, almost absentmindedly until the glass is empty.
“i’ll get you a refill!” you tell rafe, about to jump off the bed when he stops you.
“baby, you love this part?” he questions, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “i’ll get the refill.” 
“mmkay.” you nod, leaning back against the pillows as rafe exits the room, glass in hand as your eyes drift back to the tv, ponyo using her magic powers to make the toy boat increase in size. 
you smile at rafe when he returns, also with a small bowl of cashews to snack on. you’re happy he chose a salty snack as he takes even more frequent drinks until you get to the ending of the movie, singing along and doing a little shimmy as the song plays over the credits.
“you’re so cute.” rafe smiles, setting his now empty bowl down onto his nightstand. “gotta pee again, wanna hold it?” “yes!” you squeal, following rafe with excitement as he heads into the bathroom.
“jesus, baby.” he laughs at your giddy face. “didn’t think you’d like holding it while i pee this much.” “i don’t know why.” you admit, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by rafe. “i just really like it. makes me feel close to you.” you lean forward and press a kiss to rafes cheek, having to get up on your tiptoes to reach.
“wait… is that why you got me water? so you could hold it again?” rafe laughs, placing his hands on his hips. 
“maybe…” you mumble, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.
“baby, did you choose ponyo because of the water? thought it would make me have to go even faster?” 
“rafey, just pull it out!” you whine, surging forward to tug at the string of his sweatpants, unraveling it.
“you like my piss so much, i should go on you.” rafe scoffs, tugging the front of his pants down and pulling out his dick, but you don’t reach for it, your eyes wide and legs clenched together. rafe notices your reaction, smirking when he realizes just how much his words affect you.
“you want that huh? take your clothes off.”
“wh-what?” your eyebrows raise.
“well, unless you want me to piss all over your clothes, take them off. and get in the shower.” rafe says, tugging his own shirt off.
“o-okay.” you nod, quickly stripping your clothes off, glad that you’re not wearing much. you head into the shower, hands shaking in nerves and anticipation.
“well, kneel down.” rafe says, making you jump as he steps in behind you, also completely naked. you nod and kneel down, eyes wide as you look up at rafe.
“not… not the face, please.” you tell rafe. you’re not sure about it yet, you’re not even sure if you’d like his piss anywhere else on your body, but you desperately want to feel it.
“you control that, baby.” rafe says with a chuckle. “you’re holding it, remember?” “right.” you nod, reaching forward to grasp rafes dick, still mostly soft but you can tell he’s aroused and trying to hold it back. you aim towards your bare chest, letting out a gasp when rafe begins to pee, the stream landing on your tits, nipples instantly perking up as the warm stream spreads over them, then down the front of your belly. 
a moan forces its way out of you when the piss glides down your body, pooling between your legs. since rafe was so hydrated, there’s almost no smell, his stream mostly clear as he finishes. you smile up at rafe, unable to control your expression, clearly letting him know how much you enjoyed it. you even remember to shake the last few drops out.
“such a good girl.” rafe leans down, pressing a kiss against your grin.
he helps you stand up before continuing to kiss, your hand still wrapped around his cock as rafe operates the shower one handed, making sure to turn the shower head away as it warms up, turning on the water to clean you off.
“before we get you all clean-” rafe says, your hand now beginning to stroke him when you feel how hard he’s getting against your palm. “let me get you a bit dirtier.”
rafe shoves your hand away before gripping your thigh and tugging it up around his waist, using his other hand to guide his cock towards your entrance. you moan as he doesn’t tease you at all, immediately sinking his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside of you.
rafe gives you a second to adjust, despite being sopping wet. “my dirty little whore. wanting me to piss all over you.”
“i… i liked it a lot.” you admit shyly, wiggling your hips slightly.
“i can tell, baby.” rafe lets out a laugh, beginning to snap his hips forward. “gonna use you like that a lot more often.” he says, thrusting into you with rapid pace, his hand moving to your clit, knowing either of you will be able to last long.
your hands grip his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath your fingertips, pulling him even closer so your chests rub togethers, stimulating your still wet nipples.
“can’t believe you used ponyo to make me have to pee.” rafe laughs. 
“i did what i had to.” you gasp out as his fingers rub faster, dipping down lower towards your entrance to collect more of your wetness on his fingers before gliding upwards.
“gosh, i’m never gonna get to piss alone ever again, am i?” rafe says, but he doesn’t mind, not when it clearly turns you both on so much.
“never.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as you press the back of your head against the shower wall.
“gonna cum for me princess?” rafe asks. truth is, you’ve been moments away since he first agreed to let you hold it.
“yeah.” you nod quickly. “yeah, gonna cum for you rafey.”
“go ahead, doll.” rafe smirks, snapping his hips forward until you let out a gasp, body shaking against the cold tiles as you cum, cunt pulsing around rafes cock, pushing him over the edge as well as he cums with a grunt, pushing into you as he releases.
“fuck!” you whine out, reaching down to shove rafes fingers away from your clit, needing a reprieve as he gently grinds into you, riding out his high.
“oh my god, baby.” rafe groans, dropping his head into the crook of your next. “that was so good.”
you let out a small giggle as your fingers reach to the back of his head, gently rubbing your fingers against his scalp through the short cropped hair.
“you’re lucky i don’t have to piss again.” rafe says, thrusting ever so slightly in again to show what he means.
“can… can you try in there next time?” you glance down.
rafe smiles as he pulls out, his cock flopping out of you as he slowly lowers your leg from around his hip, knowing you’ll need a moment to regain your balance as he keeps his chest pressed against your body, holding you upright against the wall. “just pissed on you and you already want me to piss inside of you? damn baby, i didn’t realize my sweet girlfriend was such a freak!”
“shut up.” you say with a roll of your eyes, a smile on your lips as rafe turns the shower head back towards the two of you, warm water running over your body as your eyes sink closed, already reminiscing in the memory of kneeling before rafe.
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @ladyinbl00d @juniebugg
1K notes · View notes
gutsby · 3 months
Text
Playing Dangerous
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Detective Dixon x Reader
Summary: Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.
Warnings: NSFW. Thigh riding. Brat taming. Daddy kink. Dubcon elements vis-à-vis power imbalance and forceful facefucking, plus some dark-ish dirty talk, face slapping, overstimulation where Daryl keeps making you cum after you say that you’re finished (all meant to be consensual).
Notes: Big big thank you to @dilfsandmartinis for this filthy lil idea!! 🫣🩷 Requests are always welcome :-)
Tumblr media
Shitty was an understatement.
This was a full-blown, top-notch terror of an evening, rivaled only in its sheer lethality by the time you once broke your nose and got arrested twice in the same day.
Tonight was likely to be a close second, though.
You’d spent all of ten minutes in the center of that hot and sweaty club, fighting madly not to drop your drinks or lose your purse, when suddenly, simultaneously, it seemed every guy around you had lost the power of self-control. You were prodded and groped like a shiny slab of meat ripe for any man’s hands—and no matter how hard you elbowed each offender, you couldn’t find reprieve. You were constantly being grabbed.
You’d grumbled as much to your friends, and they’d told you to ‘lighten up’ and ‘not be so surprised when you were wearing something like that.’
Something like what? A super mini skirt and a bustier?
You promptly informed each member of your party they could kiss your ass, and left.
That had been almost half an hour ago, and you were still currently stuck outside the club waiting for a lift. In the snow. With no jacket, or adequate covering.
Every time a taxi passed, you’d wobble over to the street corner and wave your hand, but on each endeavor, without fail, its driver would shoot you a dirty look and speed right off. Like you had, ‘I’M GONNA ROB YOU’ written on your forehead or else smelled of rotting flesh.
You were mystified, distraught, and supremely pissed off. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong.
The second you saw a semi-reputable looking Dodge Charger pull up to the curb, you decided you’d had enough. Uber or not, you needed a fucking ride.
You stalked over to the vehicle, already seeing its passenger side window creeping down on your approach. Your arms were quick to fold over your chest as you bent down and scowled,
“Could you please take me home?”
The man you saw inside looked polished. Well-groomed.
You hardly had more than a second or two to inspect his appearance, though, because in an instant, he was leaning over the center console to shoot you a smile.
“How much, hon?”
You heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, someone was taking you seriously.
You reached for the door handle and tumbled right in.
“Any price, just name it,” you groaned. You rubbed your face with both hands and leaned back in the seat. Almost unable to believe your stroke of good fortune after so many failed attempts, you let out a shaky, but grateful, breath and spread your legs just a little to get comfy.
“Good,” the man to your left said, calmly, evenly...then, “Now put your hands where I can see them.”
You lowered your hands from your face and gave the stranger a puzzled look.
“What?”
“Hands, show me hands,” he said, voice raising ever slightly in volume.
What the fuck was he on? Staring you down with that stupid, self-righteous face, lip curled in a melodramatic snarl like he could’ve been one of those lousy fuckin’—
“Police,” he barked. Louder, this time. Flashing a badge before your panic-stricken eyes and clenching his jaw.
Your hands flew up instinctively.
Was it illegal to hail a cab now?!
You didn’t have time to think, or blink, or do much else besides breathe when the well-dressed man got out of the car and instructed you to do the same. Your hands and feet seemed to move of their own accord as you gingerly slipped out from the front seat of the car to the cold wintry night outside. You were pushed to your knees on the concrete sidewalk and made to kneel.
To your right, you saw a gaggle of college kids strolling by—some pointing, others laughing, but all watching in muted awe as the undercover cop circled to your back.
“You have the right to remain silent—” he started, reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.
“Excuse me?!” you hissed.
“—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—” he continued. A couple gentle clinks and suddenly your wrists were in chains.
“What’d I do? What the fuck did I do?”
“You have a right to an attorney,” he droned on, heedless of your cries as he read your Miranda rights, “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
You felt tears spring to your eyes as both cuffs locked into place and you were being hauled back onto your feet, sniveling and sobbing before throngs of amused onlookers. Your face burned with embarrassment.
“I didn’t know it was a crime, officer— I didn’t know, I swear— I-I-I’m so fucking drunk!” you blubbered as he guided you swiftly to the rear of his car. You practically bawled when he opened the back door.
“I just really needed a taxi!” you wailed, legs shaking as he started to lower you into the vehicle.
At that, he stopped.
He tugged you back on your feet and spun you around.
“A what?” he asked.
“A taxi,” you cried, “All the other drivers kept— kept driving away, I thought, I-I don’t know, I thought you might be another Uber driver or something.”
The man’s expression betrayed a change, though you couldn’t decipher just what that was through your tears. You sniffled and tried to wipe your cheek with your shoulder but ended up smearing more makeup in your line of sight. You whimpered at a pathetic pitch.
“Taxi,” the police officer repeated, seeming to mull over the word in his mind like it was the latest addition to the English language. He frowned.
Through your tear-streaked vision, you could just then detect the faintest trace of affliction…even remorse? His eyes wavered between your face, your ensemble, and the ground below, making a couple quick circuits before finally settling on your wet, bleary gaze.
His voice sounded strained to you now.
“You weren’t…trying to have sex with me?”
Your breath caught in your throat. You coughed, blinked, looked the man up and down and hardly knew to even shake your head with how blind-sided you felt.
“W-What? What?”
“You’re not…a prostitute?” the man said, almost pained.
That query threw you for a loop just the same. You pressed your weight on the car and sensed a strange unsteadinesses seize your limbs. This undercover cop thought you were a hooker—and a cheap one at that, game for any price the man was offering—and presently, you felt queasy. You looked down at your outfit.
It surely wasn’t that revealing, was it? He couldn’t have been so easily convinced of your profession by a...pair of glossy go-go boots, latex skirt, and lacy top, right?
Okay, you looked a little bit like a hooker.
Worse yet, you noticed a wad of cash stuffed between your left tit and armpit, from the time you tried to bribe the bouncer for a ride while leaving the bar. A loose cigarette stuck behind your ear, two hickeys suckled into the skin of your neck, and a teensy bag of blow to boot, tucked haphazardly between an assortment of Trojans and Magnums strewn lazily throughout your purse.
Alright, you could’ve been cast in the next Pretty Woman remake, but who cares? Half the girls in the club were dressed just as scantily, if not more so.
You somehow mustered the strength to squeeze your hands into frozen little fists behind your back and gave the officer a brazen look.
“Think I don’t have anyone better to fuck?” you scoffed.
The detective’s expression went from inscrutable to uncomfortable in fewer than two seconds. He seemed hardly able to look you in the eye any longer, casting sidelong stares at the crowd growing larger on the sidewalk. Collective curiosity piqued at the sight of a cop and a would-be streetwalker making small talk outside of the club, he knew he had to get out of this. Quick.
“I’ll, uh, take ya home, ma’am,” he said under his breath.
Before you could either accept or reject his offer, he had your cuffs undone—discreetly—and your body shuffled hastily inside his car. You heard the door slam shut and saw the officer make quick strides toward the driver’s side. You raised both brows as soon as he re-entered.
“That’s it?” you quipped.
“What?” he returned as he started the engine.
“You make that hot-shot unlawful arrest in front of all those people, and you’re not even gonna say sorry?”
The man made every effort not to shoot you a look in the rearview mirror. Slowly, he pulled into the street.
“Well...y’know, you do look the part. But I’m sorry.” Proffering one of the most pitiful apologies you’d heard in your life, the detective fixed his gaze on the road.
You knew he was bluffing. The man was humiliated as shit, too coy to come clean with the fact that he’d just made an egregious error, and now offering you a ride all to make himself out to be the good guy—and quite possibly avoid a wrongful arrest lawsuit.
Maybe it was the residual amounts of alcohol still coursing through your veins or else the cocaine, but you couldn’t let the dipshit get off that easy. You scrambled your way up to the front of the car.
It was at that moment Detective Dixon sincerely wished he’d driven the squad car—complete with a cage, of sorts, to keep inmates locked away in the back seat—rather than his unmarked vehicle, to be making arrests that night. He stifled a groan when you plopped down in the passenger seat next to him.
“What do you mean, ‘looked the part,’ hm?” you quizzed, burning a hole through the side of his head with how intently you were watching him.
“Put yer seatbelt on,” the man rolled his eyes, attention never straying from the long line of cars ahead of him, “And where do you live?”
“Over on ‘Fuck 12’ Avenue, Officer...Dixon?” you answered sarcastically, scanning his chest for a nametag.
“Detective,” he corrected, “Friends call me Daryl.”
“Detective Dixon, I am not your friend.” You smirked, and for the first time, you thought your discomfited front-seat companion might be tempted to crack one too. You watched him fight his base instincts, however, and force a frown instead. Still not tearing his gaze from the road, he reached over, blindly, for your seatbelt.
“C’mon now, buckle up,” he urged, echoing the words of a concerned father but somehow making it sound far more sexy when he said it. You swallowed a giggle and swatted his hand away.
“Detective!” you feigned an offended gasp.
“Ah, hush up, will ya?” Daryl muttered as his broad, veiny hand continued fumbling for the seatbelt, “You know it’s against the law to— shit!”
The two of you simultaneously leapt in your seats with near-identical sounds of...shock. You, feeling his fingers accidentally graze that tender spot between your legs and him, in turn, finding it unclothed. And soaked.
Detective Dixon retracted his hand just as fast as he’d sunk it in place, only holding it up in the air for an instant—but that was all either of you needed to see that his digits were glistening. You clamped your legs tight together and sucked in a breath.
Under any normal set of circumstances, you would’ve been much more in tune with the way your body was reacting to external stimuli. With all the commotion of your almost-arrest and the subsequent desire to exact revenge on the undercover detective, you hadn’t even realized how physically aroused you were.
Still reeling from his touch, you sank back in your seat. Suddenly more conscious of your bodily fluids than ever before, and embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry,” Daryl blurted out in a hurry. Gripping the steering wheel and pretending not to notice the slight wet slip of his right hand.
You couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t dare to venture a look to see if you might.
Now this would make for one hell of a career-ending lawsuit, Detective Dixon thought with a grimace. Wrongful arrest, soliciting sex on the clock, making unwanted advances on a woman who was technically, in a sense, being detained in his car while he—
Jumped, again, the second he felt your hand on his own.
You were pulling his arm over to your side of the car.
When Daryl turned his head, he paled the instant he saw you bring his hand to your mouth. Watched you pucker your lips and move them over his still-damp fingertips. Then suck them inside your mouth, three at a time.
He nearly swerved off the road and took out six civilians.
“Eyes...on the road, detective,” you murmured quietly, words garbled by the obstruction of his fingers.
Daryl swallowed thickly, and then, reluctantly, turned his attention to the street. He didn’t see much of what was in front of him.
“13 Peachtree Place.” You plucked his fingers out of your mouth just long enough to tell him your address. Then you went right back to suckling down the skin, letting your tongue glide gently over the tender, slick digits.
Daryl stifled a groan. There was no fucking way this was happening.
Guided by the faintest idea of where your neighborhood was located, he pulled off onto a side road and tried hard not to let out a sound when you sucked his three fingers to the back of your mouth—and felt your throat seize just a little at the sudden intrusion.
You pulled him out of your mouth with a wet pop and started over his lap.
You, yourself, were hardly more aware of what you were doing than why you were doing it, a slave to your sensory impulses and a sucker for a man in brown slacks. You crawled across the lap of the plainclothes officer who’d accused you of ‘selling yourself’ just minutes ago, only to show him what you were happy to do, free of charge.
It wasn’t your most gloriously feminist moment, to be sure, but then again, when were you going to get another chance to fuck the police and get off scot-free like this?
You palmed Detective Dixon through his pants and smiled when he whined just a little.
“Bet you wish I was selling, huh? Wish I was some pretty little thing for you to use at your convenience?” you purred, stroking over him gently.
Daryl gritted his teeth but said nothing in return. He brought the car to a stop under a red light.
You didn’t like the quiet types. You squeezed him harder in your hand, felt his erection grow even larger between your fingers, and moved up to press a kiss on his neck, tasting tiny beads of sweat there.
“How badly did you wish I was a whore, detective?”
When you leaned in for another couple light kisses, you were startled to feel a hand at your own throat, jerking your face up to his.
“Already knew you were the second I saw you.” he returned, deadpan, before your wide and unsuspecting eyes.
When the light turned green, he released your neck and reached for the back of your head. You let out a muffled whimper as he shoved you down against his crotch, stiff as a rock underneath your cheek.
“Why? Does a whore wanna suck it?” he asked, pressing his foot on the gas.
At a moment’s notice, you were robbed of your slight dominant edge and made to grovel under his touch like a bitch in heat. Daryl rubbed your plush lips over the mound in his pants like he was proud to make you feel it. And you, yielding as ever, made no attempt to keep from being manhandled because, if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you wanted it that way. You smiled against the cotton blend of his trousers and made a soft moan along the fabric, letting him drag you by the hair any way that he pleased.
When he yanked your head up and the car came to another stop, you weren’t surprised in the least by the trail of saliva that followed your lips. You locked eyes with his steel blue set and grinned again, quite stupidly.
“Well?” Daryl pressed, giving your hair a sharp tug.
You thought the sight of your watering mouth and blissed-out expression would have sufficed for an answer, but clearly, he wanted more. You worked gracelessly over the belt buckle and zip beneath your chin, and had his cock freed in seconds.
The car sped up again. Detective Dixon’s grip tightened on your scalp.
The second your lips latched onto the head of his dick, you knew you’d be in for a bumpy ride. He hissed as soon as the warmth of your mouth enveloped him, gripped the wheel like a vice, and made sure to spare your throat no expense the second he came to a sloppy halt.
Either your car was in bumper-to-bumper traffic, or the man couldn’t drive for shit while getting road head. You’d put a large sum of cash on the latter if you had it.
Regardless, you bobbed your head up and down and tried your best to suppress the urge to gag when you could. It was tough work, flattening your tongue down his length, gripping his cock at the base, sucking hard until your cheeks hollowed out, and then bump went the whole fucking car, and suddenly your throat was forced to take four more inches in the span of a second.
You lifted your head to protest but were swiftly met with a firm hand holding it down. Keeping it down.
“You’re done sucking this cock when I say you’re done,” Daryl informed you sternly, sucking a breath through his teeth when you gagged around him once more.
He pulled you off just long enough to breathe—and answer a question.
“You live over by McGinty’s? Or MacManus’?”
“McVeigh’s,” you supplied in a shaky voice. No one ever got the Irish pubs around you right.
Daryl hummed and shoved you right back onto his dick, pretending to take no notice of the way you gripped his thigh or tried to groan, ‘Fucker’ against his shaft. Your oral cavity was presently flooded with cock, pre-cum, and saliva, and the longer you sucked, the harsher he got to pushing your head up and down. Your eyes stung with tears.
“In through yer nose, darlin’, almost there,” he hummed, smug as ever. Whether he meant you were close to your house or he was about to cum down your throat, you couldn’t be sure. Your mouth slipped and squelched gently over the man’s throbbing member and made tiny whimpers when you felt you might climax any minute.
In a clandestine act, you moved one hand down your body while you continued blowing Daryl’s brains out. You were half-cockdrunk and hardly more sentient than a sex doll, it seemed, but you could’ve sworn you were quite discreet about the endeavor between your legs. You had just grazed the slick wet seam of your slit, about to press two fingers to your clit, when a hand jerked at a clump of your hair. Hard.
As soon as your mouth was disconnected from his shaft, Daryl landed a tart slap on your cheek.
“My baby need something?” he said, almost tauntingly.
You blinked up at him, failing to understand, until he reached down and pried your hand away from your heat.
“If tha’ wet, greedy cunt needs sum’n, ya better tell me.”
You were amazed how deftly he appeared to maneuver the car now, just pinching your face between forefinger and thumb as he veered down winding streets. When you paused a second or two to answer, you were punished with another slap.
“Just wanted a touch,” you whined, trying to rub the cheek that was stinging and finding yourself outmatched by Daryl’s grip. He squeezed you even tighter.
“Then you say that next time. With your big girl words,” Detective Dixon grunted, bringing the car to a sudden halt and hauling you into his arms.
You looked small splayed across his lap. Perhaps even tinier just straddling one leg, as you were, body writhing beneath his touch and moans and whimpers bubbling up your throat one at a time.
When you looked around, you realized you were home.
Part of you wanted to bolt, for a second. Go sprinting up the lawn toward the safety of your home and jump straight under the covers, a place where you would be free to touch yourself as you pleased—no smug homicide detective breathing down your throat.
But, as you straddled his wide, beefy thigh and felt one gentle pulse of the muscle underneath, you knew you were done for. He saw just as clearly as you that your body was in need of release. Not from your fingers, not from his tongue, perhaps not even from the fat, throbbing cock that had been fucking your mouth the whole way home.
In this moment, all you needed was for him to bounce you on his thigh, let you ride, and make you cum.
Your expression must have looked exceptionally pathetic when you tried stirring your hips and felt two hands stop you cold in your tracks.
“What did daddy just say about big girl words, hm?” Daryl’s voice took on a tender lilt so unlike anything he’d said or done before that you almost didn’t hear the word ‘daddy,’ or think it strange at all. It seemed so natural playing off of his tongue.
“I need you, daddy,” you whimpered.
To say you were putty in his hands was still something short of the truth. You were damn near liquified underneath his touch, half-limp and wholly yearning as the man steadied you in place and began his delicate ministrations like you’d never experienced before.
The once callous, largely cruel law enforcement figure took on something of a gentle affect as he ran his hands up and down your body and let you ease yourself into his touch. There were kisses, caresses, and all sorts of soft little touches on your skin that made you feel pampered and prized, even precious in his eyes. Was this really the same man whose cock had been choking you to the point of tears just minutes ago?
Daryl hiked your skirt up your hips until the sight of your bare, needy cunt was all he could see. Still, he stayed cool and trained his eyes up to yours.
“How’s that feel, honey?”
Even as still as a stone, you felt sparks of hot energy fly up from your center. Remembering your big girl words, you replied, ‘So good, daddy, I just need some more.’
Daryl seemed happy to oblige his good little girl and made sure to shift his knee a little to the right. At the slightest bit of friction, you moaned.
“Oh, daddy,” you whined, leaning in to that praise-heavy dynamic Daryl seemed keen to play out. When he bounced his foot once or twice, shaking your whole body as he did, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbed hold of his thigh. Even rolled your hips right back to his movements.
As light, tender sounds tumbled past your lips with increasing frequency, so too did Daryl’s mouth impart more gentle kisses and dirtier words for your ears to hear:
“Such a pretty little thing, ridin’ daddy’s thigh like tha’.”
“Grindin’ tha’ needy wet pussy all over my leg.”
“Gonna make a mess fer daddy? Show me how much my sweet girl’s been needin’ a good fuck?”
You loved every last filthy syllable. You braced hard against his leg and rutted up and down, in circles all around until you thought you could’ve soaked his whole pant leg. Meanwhile, he was bouncing his thigh, stroking your sides, and making sure you were never wanting for affection or praise as a soft swell of pleasure came dimly into view.
When he flattened one palm across your tummy and told you to lean back, you knew the end wasn’t far from sight.
Daryl took hold of your hips and made an even quicker cadence with his leg, bouncing you fast and hard and hopelessly tight against his thigh as he drank in every one of your moans coming out.
You pressed one hand to the window—long since fogged up and opaque with the hot breaths you were panting—and placed the other on Daryl’s shoulder.
You could tell by the glint in his eye and the grin on his face that he loved you like this. Spread out and desperate for release as you rocked your hips a vicious course over him, using his body for leverage as you fucked his leg for all it was worth.
“Tha’s my girl,” Daryl beamed, practically scintillating with joy.
He watched you rut your hips again and again in the most obscene sort of fashion, riding his thigh with a moan never far from your lips. You squeezed his shoulder.
“Daddy, I—” you started, only to swallow your words with a whimper the second Daryl started bouncing his foot even faster.
“Daddy what?” he teased, pretending not to notice the elevated pitch to your whines.
“Fuck— you know what!” you cried.
“Nah, pretty baby, I ain’t got the slightest clue,” Detective Dixon was exuberant now, grinning from ear to ear as the pleasure visibly mounted inside of you, “Fuck my leg a little harder and tell me how it feels.”
You did. He helped. Even gripped your hips and moved them for you, keeping that breakneck pace as you moaned and writhed and sank your nails into his shoulder as the feelings just got to be too much.
With one last strangled cry, you came all over his thigh.
And, whether that climax lasted two seconds or two hours, the man beneath you didn’t really care—he kept bouncing his leg as you finished, and long after you had, as well.
You seized both of his shoulders this time as you tried to slow his movements. He made no such effort to oblige, only flashing a smile and nodding his big, dumb head as he said:
“I want one more.”
What? No fucking way, you thought, communicating as much through your frantic eyes and the shake of your head. Daryl kept right on moving his leg and holding you firm to that mile-wide wet spot on his thigh, which only grew larger and larger the longer you rode him.
As a bizarre, unfamiliar feeling sank to the pit of your stomach and twisted, you weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or cum all over again—luckily, your body decided for you and graced you with yet another orgasm. You gritted your teeth and tried not to scream as a wild wave of a new sensation washed over your senses…
And Daryl kept bouncing that fucking knee.
Mind-numbing waves of ecstasy came crashing closer and closer than ever before, and frankly, you couldn’t quite tell how, or when, you’d ever cum again until you did it, you felt it: walls clenching back and forth while your vision blurred with pleasure. A sound wavering somewhere between a scream and a plea—Daryl, keep that goddamn knee to yourself, for fuck’s sake!—tore out of your chest and prompted you to sink all ten nails into flesh that told your sly detective it was time to stop.
Your whole frame was shaking by the time his foot came to rest. If you hadn’t been so fucked-out and sensitive, you just might’ve jumped out of the car the second it did.
But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, let your vision return apace, and didn’t let your eyes stray an inch from Daryl’s smug face while your third orgasm subsided.
Fighting every urge to giggle when he squeezed your ass and begged for another.
“Fourth one’s gonna cost ya, asshole.”
“Oh yeah?” Daryl said, grinning, “What’s your price?”
778 notes · View notes
ew-selfish-art · 8 months
Text
Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.
Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.
So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.
He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.
"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.
"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.
"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.
"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"
"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.
"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.
The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.
"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.
"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.
"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.
"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."
"I'm no-"
"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"
He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??
The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.
Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.
Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"
1K notes · View notes
roosterforme · 3 months
Text
Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.
Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst
Length: 5900 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
Tumblr media
When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.
"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."
"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment. 
"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."
You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family. 
"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest. 
When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."
"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.
The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."
You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"
He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."
"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"
Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted. 
As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway. 
You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.
------------------------
By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask. 
But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.
So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"
"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.
"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say. 
"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.
"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"
You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."
After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday. 
The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies. 
Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you. 
Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."
"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"
"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.
Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob. 
"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him. 
"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."
You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."
He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."
Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"
"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food. 
"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."
"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.
You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy. 
Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder. 
"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.
After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."
Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly. 
----------------------------
Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling. 
He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home. 
You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.
Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom. 
"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead. 
After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.
Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."
He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want." 
Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.
"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time. 
"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"
He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."
You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."
He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."
--------------------------
When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.
"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace. 
The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne. 
You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping. 
It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself. 
While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp. 
Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.
When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.
Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.
You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.
Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.
"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.
Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.
"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours. 
"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned. 
You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."
"I didn't like her touching you."
His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."
You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."
-------------------------
Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago. 
When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans. 
He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned. 
"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."
Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top. 
"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted. 
He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.
"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."
He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"
You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."
And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.
On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off. 
He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation. 
--------------------------
You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense. 
No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night. 
As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep. 
"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."
Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."
Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."
"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."
"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."
Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."
You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now. 
It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you. 
"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"
"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.
"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"
"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."
Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed. 
You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.
"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."
You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."
He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"
You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"
He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying. 
"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick. 
"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around. 
"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled." 
"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."
He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"
You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out. 
When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start. 
You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet. 
"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.
When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.
You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper. 
Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes. 
Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted. 
You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty. 
"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.
------------------------
Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 27
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@chassy21
@solacestyles
@daisyhollyxox
@wintercap89
@blog-name6996
@bcon24
@chaoticassidy
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
@katiebby04
@marantha
@averyhotchner
@abaker74
@heli991113
@k-k0129
@noz4a2
@tallyovie
@shanimallina87
@little-wiseone
@ccbb2222
@lilyevanswhore
@xoxabs88xox
@thedroneranger
@bradshawsbitch
@cherrycola27
@fanboyswhore9
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@desert-fern
@sylviebell
@wkndwlff
@horseslovers2016
@gennyanydots
@mattyskies
@hookslove1592
@blahehblah
@sadpetalsstuff
@local-spidey
@schoollover
@lex-winchester
@magicalmorg
@nicole01-23
@jessicab1991
@happyrebelruins
@samsgoddess
@ughthisisntright
@bellaireland1981
@sagittarius-flowerchild
634 notes · View notes
ohimsummer · 3 months
Text
DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU
Tumblr media
— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss
summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology
wc 2.8k
Tumblr media
"I thought love was supposed to be easy."
Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"
Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"
"You being a dumbass."
Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.
He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.
Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.
"There."
He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.
You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.
It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"
Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.
"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"
It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"
A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."
Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"
Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.
"Sorry."
Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.
Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.
"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."
"Fuck off."
"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."
Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"
A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "
Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."
"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."
He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"
"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”
"I already said sorry!"
"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."
Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."
"Sunflowers."
Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"
"Because I asked?"
Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.
"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"
"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"
"Do you?"
"Not really–“
"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"
Suguru sighs. "Fine."
Tumblr media
Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.
"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.
"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"
"Uh–“
"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."
He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"
"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."
Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."
“I know you’re a jackass.”
“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”
Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”
“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”
Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”
Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”
The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.
“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”
Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”
“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”
“A little, yes.”
Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.
“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Tumblr media
It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.
“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”
“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”
“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”
“I’m letting go.”
“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”
The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.
“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.
There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–
“Gojo?”
He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.
“What’s that?”
Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.
It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.
“Is this your way of apologizing again?”
“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”
This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”
“…”
Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.
“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”
Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”
“Just shut up.”
He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”
Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.
“Thank you, Satoru.”
The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.
“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”
Your eyes narrow. “That much?”
“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“
“And did I look hot then?”
“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“
You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.
“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”
You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”
“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”
You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.
“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”
The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.
“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”
“Don’t play.”
“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”
Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“
“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.
“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“
Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.
“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”
All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.
asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?
s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?
asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?
s: stfu
827 notes · View notes
Note
Maybe Overlord Husk has a moment of jealously? Like this pathetic version of himself, one that lost his Overlord title, all his money, his fucking casino, and his pride, has someone that loves him for being, well, himself. And hearing her say "I love you" so easily and truthfully to this skinny no-good asshole version of himself... makes him jealous, and maybe even a little sad? Why couldn't he have that?
A/n: ooh this made me sad 😩....so I gave it a happy ending.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
He didn't know why it pissed him off so much, you should be giving him the attention. He was the Overlord, He had the money, the casino, he wasn't some fucking loser that lost his soul to some jackass so why in the hell did this piss him off so much?
You were barely paying attention to him! Instead you were giving it to that loser. A soft squeal left your lips feeling Husk nuzzle his nose into your neck. "You're wonderful, you know that right."
Smiling, you let your fingers glide down his cheek enjoying the softness of his fur beneath your finger tips. "I love you."
Humming, Husk glanced over at his other self doing his best to not scowl. Instead he gave you a soft smile hugging you close. "I love ya too darlin."
Overlord!Husk turned his head away from the sudden affection he was witnessing, why did that hurt so much to hear. Why did it fall so easily from your lips. Why couldn't he have that? Why couldn't he have you?
Titling your head to the side, you placed the drink down in front of the Overlord! "Don't worry, we're going to figure out how to get you home."
Scoffing, Overlord!Husk nearly downed the drink in front of him. "Well isn't that kind of you to say sweetheart." He couldn't stand seeing those big doe eyes looking up at him and that pretty little smile of yours.
He hated it.
"Is something wrong?"
Overlord!Husk bit his tongue then downed the rest of his drink. "I don't get sweetheart, what do you see in that nobody."
Bristling, you scowled then shook your head narrowing your eyes for a moment. "He's not a nobody, I love him. I love yo-....Husk more than anything." Sighing you moved to sit in the seat next to the Overlord! "I meet Husk after his soul got taken by Alastor....he might be a little rough around the edges but he also knows how to make me smile, I feel safe with him."
Overlord!Husk sighed, the bitter feeling in his chest only growing hearing how truthful you were being.But it didn't make him feel any better.
"Do you have anyone special?" You asked softly leaning in.
"No...I mean." Overlord!Husk frowned looking away from you. "I know someone but she keep's running from me."
Tilting your head to the side you placed your hand on top of his. "If it's me then just tell them how you feel alright..." leaning in close you then placed your lips against his cheek. "Because deep down, I know you're a softy."
Leaning in close, Overlord!Husk was happy to be back in his own time and he was going to take your advice. Grinning he pinned you, the other you in with his arms.
You looked so fucking adorable, and you didn't look scared....you weren't afraid of him.
"Can't run away now, huh, Sweetheart~"
534 notes · View notes
ghost-bxrd · 3 months
Note
okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)
and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.
I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)
I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!
I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.
Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.
Anyway, getting off topic:
YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.
“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”
Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.
So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”
And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.
OR
The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.
“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”
“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”
“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”
Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:
“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”
Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”
886 notes · View notes
honeybeefae · 8 months
Text
7 Minutes In Heaven (Bat Boys x Reader)
Tumblr media
Summary// After a night of drinking and a confession that friends should not say to each other, you find yourself on the receiving end of your three best friend’s wicked desires to make sure you are taken care of.
(Hoooooly hell this was a LOT to write and it took me so long but I am so happy with how it came out. 16 pages, 5K words, and I really hope you guys like this. This is obviously just pure smut but we all know that’s why you’re here. ;) Enjoy!)
WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Foursome, Double penetration, Spitting
The fire was roaring in the hearth while the smell of bread and wine filled the cabin air. Rhys, Cass, Az, and you were all sitting in a circle by the couch as you joked about old memories, the outside world seemingly far away as you took a relaxing breath and enjoyed the company of your friends.
You had come up here after your father had surprised you with an arranged marriage back in your birthplace within the Court of Nightmares. Despite your job with the inner circle he still felt as if he had control over you and you were lucky that Rhys had been there to swoop you away and hide you here.
It had been three days since then and you had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The four of you were as close as could be and you were thankful they had dropped everything to help you out and be a shoulder to lean on.
Four wine glasses lay empty beside each of you though none of you were drunk by any means, the conversation light and mellow as you reached for the half-empty bottle beside Rhys.
“So, Y/N,” Cassian began, smirking when you rolled your eyes at his prying tone. “Who were you going to be wed to?”
“Really?” Rhys deadpanned. “Do you have to kill the mood?”
“It’s okay. I know he can’t help his gossiping ways.” You say sickly sweet, drinking down the red liquid faster than you should’ve. “It was some friend’s son of Keir’s. A terrible man no doubt looking to climb ranks like the rest of them. And with me being the only daughter of my father, you know he was looking to make alliances to secure his power as well.”
“They’re all like that. It’s pathetic.” Azriel grumbled from his spot on the floor.
“The men are the worst of them all, treating us daughters lesser than.” You snort and lean back on your hands. “It just sucks that us women are caught in the crossfire of your pissing contests.”
“Our pissing contests?” Rhysand echoed, arching his brow as you waved your hand in the air to gesture vaguely.
“Men in general. It’s so much harder for us than it is for you when it comes to scenarios like this. You guys get to go and do whatever you want, fuck whoever you want, etc., while we have to be everything all at once lest we ruin our family image.” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head in irritation as you ranted to the group.
“If I were a man I wouldn’t have to put up with being treated as a mere breeding sow or a stepping stool to a higher purpose. I could take what I wanted.” They were all watching you with amusement as you crossed your arms over your chest, glowering. “For example, I bet the three of you never once got lectured on the importance of maintaining your purity for a woman or how to please them properly.”
“Well, no, but-” Cassian tried to interrupt but you raised to sit on your knees and snapped your fingers in exasperation, cutting him off.
“Exactly my point! It’s a sexist, ridiculous outlook on women as a whole. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad about wanting our own pleasure when you lot can take part in yours whenever you please.” You realized too late how you had completely derailed the conversation and glanced at your now empty glass of wine, making a note to keep it that way.
“You certainly have very strong feelings towards this subject.” Rhys pointed out, his violet eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I didn’t realize this was such a sore topic. Shall we join you in your celibacy?”
All three of them laughed and you felt your face heat in embarrassment. It was your own fault for making it such a big deal and you were starting to regret the ammunition you had just given them. You rushed to defend yourself from whatever picture they were painting of you. 
“I’m not celibate, I just-” You tried to get out, your voice cracking as you considered your words.
Three pairs of eyes stare at you as you clear your throat and straighten your spine, finding a small stain on the rug underneath you to focus on. “I mean that in the sense that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that since I’m not. I just think the issue needs to be talked about more.”
“The issue of your sex life?” Azriel quipped, grinning when you threw a pillow at him.
“No! The issue of the scale of men and women.” You retort with a flip of your middle finger. “Can we just change the topic?”
“I just can’t believe you’ve actually had sex with someone. What would your mother think, Y/N?” Cassian faked a dramatic gasp and you resisted the urge to chuck the glass bottle at his head. 
"Listen-” You try to cut in but your pleas fell on deaf ears as all three of your best friends started to gang up on your blushing state.
“You have had sex before right?” Rhys smirked devilishly. “Touching yourself doesn’t count, it takes two people.”
“Or more.” Azriel gave you a wink and you blushed crimson, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to regain control of the situation.
“Yes, yes. I’ve done it before with someone else.” You felt self-conscious even admitting to that and you could tell they wanted more details. Before they could even ask though you held out your hand to silence them. “Why am I in the hot seat? Can we move on to someone else? Or a new topic entirely?”
“Oh no, this is very interesting. I want to know more.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, shooting his brothers an amused glance as you shook your head.
“Well if it’s so interesting how about I ask you how many people you’ve had sex with, hm?” You challenged your High Lord, blinking in surprise when he simply shrugged his shoulders.
“I have no problem telling you how many. What was it you said, we shouldn’t be made to feel bad about seeking our own pleasure?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as you puckered your lips in silence. “I would say at least thirty.”
“Thirty?!” You were shocked.
“If you think that’s scandalous you really don’t want to hear Azriel’s…or Cassian’s.”
“How do you even? Were you courting all of them?”
Rhysand snorted while Cassian and Azriel grinned, the former laying sideways and propping his head up on his elbow. “You do know you don’t have to be courting someone to fuck them right, princess? Sex isn’t magically unlocked by writing poems and delivering flowers.” Cassian teased.
“I know that.” You snapped, frowning. “I just don’t see why. It doesn’t even feel that good.”
The room immediately fell into silence and your body tensed. All three of your friends were staring at you, mouths open, with shocked expressions. You brought your knees up to your chest, a comfort action, as Azriel cleared his throat and clicked his tongue.
“What doesn’t feel good? Sex itself?” He questioned, watching you shrug. “How many people have you had sex with, Y/N?”
“It doesn’t matter.” You went on the defense immediately, knowing they would laugh. However Rhys held out his pinky for you to hook, his face serious as he promised you that no one would make fun of you.
You mulled over lying or not but you knew they would be able to tell. It wasn’t something you were proud of but you truly never got the appeal of it. A few girls back in the Court of Nightmares were constantly bragging about it but you didn’t get the desire.
“Two.” You whispered, wincing when Cassian almost choked on his drink.
“Two? Did you say two?” He said hoarsely, hitting his chest with an open palm to clear his throat. “How old are you?”
“Why does it matter?” You ran a hand over your face frustratedly. “Why is any of this relevant to our friendship? Yes, I’ve only had sex with two people. It was painful, lasted a couple of minutes both times and just left me feeling frustrated and used. I didn’t like it. Can we move on?”
They watched you and you saw their gazes turn from shocking to pitying. 
“So…no one has made you cum before?” Azriel whispered, voice tight as you closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.
“No, they aren’t supposed to.” You said as if it were obvious. “I was always told sex is for the man, to make a baby. It’s not really something that we enjoy but we just pretend we do.”
“Oh you sweet, summer child,” Rhys cooed. “That’s….that’s just cruel. And not what sex is at all.”
You felt agitated, embarrassed, and frustrated all at the same time. It was like they all knew some secret that you didn’t, that they were teasing you again. The night was not supposed to have taken this turn but you had dug this grave yourself.
“I’m going to bed.” You huffed and began to stand, grunting when Cassian grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down.
“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable or anything, Y/N. It’s just that is a very…shocking thing to hear.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as you glared at him.
“Are you telling me that you all care about the women you sleep with? That you make them cum every single time?” Your voice was tight as they looked at each other and then back to you, nodding. A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Another pregnant pause filled the room as you watched them, their eyes darkening while they looked you over. There was a noticeable shift in the air, your mouth suddenly dry as you squirmed on the floor.
“Would you like to see it, darling?”
Your heart dropped into your stomach as Rhys’s words reverberated through you. They all had the same look in their eyes, one of hunger, but you were convinced they were messing with you. 
“Ha ha, very funny.” You laughed without humor, your eyebrows knitting together in anger. “You all are assholes for teasing me, you know that? I’m going to bed.”
This time it was Azriel who stopped you though not with his hands. Two silky, dark tendrils of smoke curled around your arms and held you on the floor. It made your breath hitch and goosebumps rise on your skin as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Az, this isn’t funny.”
“We aren’t joking, princess.” Cassian purred, one of his hands wandering to your thigh as he made his way beside you. “There are many things we would joke about but your pleasure isn’t one of them…and trust me when I say that we would love to help you out.”
“What-all of you?” You asked softly as your gaze moved across all three of them. “I don’t…I mean you are all very handsome, obviously, but don’t feel obligated to-”
Rhysand sat in front of you and grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, the former dragging over your bottom lip as you held back a moan at the contact. Azriel’s shadows were drawing shapes into your soft skin while Cassian’s hand seemed to drift higher and higher, all the attention making your head spin.
Your High Lord knew it too, a smirk working its way to his lips as he bent down until he was a hairsbreath away from your lips.
“This is anything but an obligation to us, darling. This is pure, carnal desire in its rawest form. A primal need.” His voice was smooth as silk, your eyelids fluttering as his lips moved to ghost over your ear. “A desperate urge to take care of you until you’re drowning in pleasure.”
“Look at her,” Azriel growled from your other side, his hazel eyes appearing behind Rhys. He had on a wicked smile, his head slightly tilted as he surveyed you. “She wants it so bad.”
“Do you, princess?” Cassian asked teasingly, his hand stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Do you want us to take care of you?”
“Yes.” You breathed, your sultry voice surprising you as all three of them pulled away and grinned. All of their warmth and comfort disappeared and you almost let out a whine, wanting it back desperately. 
“How about we make this a game?” Rhys asks his two friends, standing tall over you. There was already a noticeable bulge in his pants that your fingers were itching to touch. “Seven minutes in heaven?”
“Person who makes her cum the hardest gets to fuck her?” Cassian finished, licking his lips. “Gods, I need to go first.”
However, before he could grab you, Rhys hoisted you up bridal style into his arms. You giggled as he looked over his shoulder and said, “Go ahead and start the timer. I won’t need all seven.”
The bedroom door swung open and then quickly shut again as you were pressed right against it, his lips on yours before you could make a sound. It felt so wrong and yet so right, your fingers immediately running through his midnight black hair.
“Stars above, you’re so beautiful.” He grunted into your ear as he kissed down your neck, his lips latching onto your pulse point while he shimmied off your pants. “I could smell how badly you want this.”
“Please, Rhys,” You whined, his fingertips ghosting over the wet spot on your panties. “Please touch me.”
He didn’t answer you by words but by actions, as he pushed your underwear aside to rub your clit with his thumb. It made your knees wobble from how good it felt. One of your hands came up to grasp his forearm, your head hitting the door behind you. “Oh my gods, that feels-I feel…”
“So fucking good,” Rhys finished for you. He kissed you hungrily, his own cock straining against its confines. Two more fingers dipped down and circled the entrance of your cunt before he thrust them in sloppily, choking back a moan. “You’re such a good girl for me.”
Your nails dug into his skin at the roughness of his motions, his upper lip curled as drank in every expression on your face. “Fuck me,” You gasped as a pleasure you had only read about overtook your body, those thick fingers curling each time they entered you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”
“Never.” He promised. “I will never stop making you feel this good, never stop making you scream around my fingers. You’re mine. Forever.” His words were like ice to a burn as you felt a strong surge of ecstasy boil over. Rhys held you as you exploded around his fingers, working you through the best orgasm of your life with words of praise and soft strokes.
“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” You mewled at his tone as your pussy tried to swallow his fingers deeper. “Such a good girl. You did so well…”
“Rhys that was…I’ve never…” Your words were breathless as you watched him with hooded eyes, your lips slightly parted as he gave you a knowing smile and kissed you. It was loving and warm, like a blanket on a cold winter’s night, and you melted into it.
He threaded his fingers through your hair to deepen it, taking control, and just as you felt him start to rut into your thigh the door behind you shook with a pounding force.
“Don’t need seven minutes my ass! Time’s up, High Lord!” Cassian chuckled, his grin feline as Rhys opened the door with a glowering look. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”
“Just remember who just made your eyes roll back, darling.” Rhys purred into your ear before kissing your cheek, purposefully hitting Cass’s shoulder as he made his way back out to the living room. You tried to follow him with your eyes but Cassian was quick to step forward and make you step backward., your thighs still shaking.
“Was it that good, princess? Or were you just pretending for him?” He teased as he strode forward, making you retreat until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell back, your smile growing when the general appeared over you. “You don’t have to lie, I promise I won’t tell.”
“It was pretty amazing…” You sighed as he rolled his eyes before sinking to his knees at the end of the bed. He threw your legs over his shoulders before you could process what was happening and by the time you tried to squirm away, he had you pinned.
“Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere.” He growled as he gazed at your swollen cunt, your lips puffy and glistening. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess. Is it sensitive?”
Before you could answer he blew a cool breeze across your sex, making you jump. Cassian smirked and used both of his hands to spread you wide open. He leaned forward and spat on your clit, watching it mingle with your wetness as he inserted one finger. “Gods you’re making it so hard to be gentle.”
“Then don’t,” You urged, your pupils blown wide in desire. “Treat me how I deserve to be treated.”
Cassian let your words sink in before he dove headfirst into your pussy, three fingers roughly fucking into your hole as he scraped the hood of your clit with his teeth. It was sensory overload and you bucked forward with a small shout, your hands immediately fisting into his hair as he ate you out like a starved animal.
Every nerve in your body had already been shot but this was mind-numbing pleasure. It had you crying out for more, fucking his face as his stubble rubbed against your thighs. He was no better as he sucked and fucked your cunt until he could feel you start to tighten around him.
You hated how fast you were cumming but you also didn’t know if you could hold it any longer, your cries to slow down falling on deaf ears. Cassian swirled his tongue up and down, side to side, making sure to not waste a drop of your excitement. He knew how to eat someone out.
“Cass, Cass-” You tried to warn him, shifting your hips, only for him to tighten his hold on you. “Cass I can’t. I can’t hold it.”
“Cum all over my face, princess,” Cassian grunted as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your body already falling over the edge of the abyss. “Soak my beard, fuck my face, use me to get off. It’s all for you.”
Whereas Rhys had been sweet, Cassian was a little bit of both. It made you yearn for more of his degrading praise and you quickly found yourself following his orders, your hips rolling over his face as you came loudly.
The door started banging again but you didn’t care and neither did he. In fact, Cassian was so lost in what he was doing he almost lashed out when Azriel appeared behind him. You whined when he was pulled back but quickly settled when you felt cool hands running over your body.
No, not hands. Shadows.
Your eyes widened when Azriel’s hazel gaze appeared inches from your face. He had a dark look and an even darker smirk as his shadows lazily rubbed along your skin, his hands gently pulling off your top.
“Did my brothers fully satisfy you or are you still wanting more, mouse?” Azriel cooed into the empty room, tossing the last of your clothing aside so that you were now bare before him. “Answer me.”
“I want more.” You gulped, drinking precious air as the Shadowsinger tilted his head in wonder. “Please.”
“Who taught you those manners, pet?” He raised a curious brow while both of his hands cupped your sensitive tits, thumbs barely grazing over your nipples. It was enough to make you squirm though which he was counting on. “I’ll be happy to give you more but I want you to beg.”
“Beg?”
“Beg.”
You faltered at first, not sure what it was he wanted to hear, but when he went to pull away from your breasts you ran with it. “No, no, please keep touching me!” You whined, groaning when one of his tendrils of smoke circled your clit. “Oh, Gods, that feels so good.”
“I’ll stop if you don’t fucking beg for it, Y/N. I want to hear you tell me how badly you want my fingers. How greedy you are for already cumming twice but still needing more, like the dirty slut you are.” He sneered, his nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to just fuck you then and there. 
“I am greedy! I want more, I want it so fucking bad, Az!” You cried, desperate for his touch to grow stronger. He was keeping you on the edge. “I am a, fuck, I’m a dirty slut. I want you so bad, so so bad, please.”
“You’re a quick learner.” He smiled before bending down and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth at the same time his shadows started stroking your slit. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry of euphoria as he bit and nibbled his way over to your other boob, the pressure on your clit increasing with each second.
“I always knew you were dirty, mouse,” Azriel murmured as he gave a harsh suck, enjoying the way you arched into it. “Always knew this how you wanted to be fucked. Just look at this greedy little cunt, hm? Look at how it’s swallowing my fingers.”
You couldn’t see it but you could feel it as he thrust two fingers inside of you, the walls sensitive as he stroked them and found that special spot with ease. His fingers plus his mouth on your breasts was heaven as your head thrashed back and forth, your body desperate to just be fucked.
But he wasn’t going to give that to you. At least not yet. No, Azriel was focused on making you cum one more time. The tip of his tongue flicked over your hardened nub as his shadows came back to rub your clit, all of the stimulations becoming too much, too fast.
“Azriel, fuck!” You squealed as you came for the third time that night. This time you felt yourself ascend from your body, watching yourself from below as he worked you through it but didn’t slow down. “Ohhhhh fuck…”
“Fuck you’re so tight.” He growled as he removed his fingers, smirking when your eyes had that glazed look to them. You whimper as he picks you up gently, shushing you, then turning to see Rhys and Cassian waiting in the doorway. “I think she’s done for the night.”
“No…” You mumble softly, needily. “I want you…all of you. Please.”
There was a beat of silence as they considered your state and each other before you were brought back to the bed and spread out for their viewing pleasure. You felt like you were cock drunk at this point, especially as Rhys pulled his cock out right in front of your face.
You wasted no time in bringing him into your mouth, your saliva dripping out the sides of your mouth as you worked his cock up and down. Rhys threw his head back and growled, the room seeming to shake before he grabbed a fistful of your hair to help guide you.
“If your mouth is this good I can’t wait for your cunt.” He laughed airly before moaning once more, watching as Azriel stood to your other side with his cock standing proudly. 
The bed dipped behind you and before you could blink you felt Cassian rub his cock up and down your folds, words of praise or prayer spilling from his lips as he sunk in inch by inch. It felt amazing and you pulled off Rhys’s dick long enough to moan loudly.
“Shit, Cassian,” You groaned. “You’re so big.”
“You’re just tight as fuck, princess. Gods, I don’t think I’m going to fit.” He cursed, his fingers squeezing your hips as you whipped your head to look back at him.
“Make it fit.” You said lowly, your eyes narrowed in challenge which had him grinning. He gave you a shrug of his shoulders before pulling out and slamming back in, rocking your forward and straight into Azriel’s cock. He took advantage of the situation and forced you to swallow him whole, his biceps straining as you gagged and cried around his dick. 
“Look at you, look at the little whore you’re being for us,” Azriel said as you started to go back and forth between him and Rhys. Cassian was fucking you like a beast, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word and you never wanted it to stop. “You like being treated like this, don’t you? Like our own personal fuck toy?”
“You’re doing such a good job, darling.” Rhys’s voice soothed, your heart beating in your ears as you gazed at him. “Taking Cass so well. He’s close, I can tell.”
“I’m gonna fucking fill you up.” The Illyrian General growled as he pistoned in and out. You could feel him in your stomach as you closed your eyes and let yourself feel. “Take it, Y/N, fucking take it.” He ordered as he finally stilled in you, hot ropes of cum coating your insides as you hung your head in rapture. 
He seemed to cum forever and when he finally pulled out, you watched his cum drip down onto the bedsheets from just how much it was. Cassian smirked and collected the leaking seed onto his fingers, holding it out for you to take before Rhys snatched it and sucked it off himself.
Rhys’s eyes darkened at the taste of both of you and he quickly yanked you to him, lying back on the bed and positioning you on top. He helped guide you onto him and when you started sinking down, both of your groaned. The rhythm was soft and slow as you got used to his size, your hands coming to palm at your breasts until you felt a nudge against your asshole.
“Shhhh, relax,” Azriel’s voice shushed as he spat on his cock, lubing it up even more before he started to press into your ass. “Relax for me, mouse. I want you to take us both together. Can you do that?”
You nodded, a stupid smile on your face as you leaned back into him for support at the intrusion. It felt weird but the longer you waited, the more pleasurable it got. Soon you were rocking on to both of them in need, your sex hungry for more as they started fucking you at the same time.
It was a fullness you had never felt before but you don’t know how you could ever go on without it. They worked beautifully with each other, their moans mixing with yours as Azriel replaced your hands with his own. Rhysand watched from below, his violet eyes burning with desire as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.
They were fighting over you and it was driving you crazy. And just as Azriel went to pull you back to him, Cassian appeared at your side with his cock in his hand. It was already hard and leaking and you wasted no time in shoving him inside your mouth.  
“That’s it, that’s it,” Rhys praised. “Ride us, darling. Be a good, needy girl for us.”
“Our good, naughty little whore.” Cassian purred, choking when you took him down to the base. 
“Or just our whore.” Azriel growled as he smacked your ass, watching the recoil. “A whore we can use and abuse whenever we want.”
Their words filled your veins until you felt as if you were about to burst. You could feel a fourth orgasm coming, could feel the now painful clenching of your cunt, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had enough mind to pull away from Cassian’s cock before you let out a blood-curdling scream, your body collapsing on Rhys’s chest as you squirted all over them.
All at once, together, they also found their releases and followed you with reckless abandon. The sheets were soaked, as were the rest of you, as Azriel came in your ass, Rhys came in your cunt, and Cassian came over your back. You felt like you were leaking cum from every opening you had and you loved it.
You struggled to catch your breath as they all fell into bed beside you and Rhys, the smell of sex and cum permeating the room. Rhys’s soft hand stroked up and down your back lovingly while Cass and Az whispered praises. It was slow coming back down to Earth, to the three men who you had just slept with, and you realized that you never wanted to leave the room. Never wanted to leave them.
After a few minutes, you hear rustling before Azriel stands up and asks if anyone wants to shower, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when you sat up sleepily and said, “Second round in the shower?”
2K notes · View notes
mellowsadistic · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
"What am I wearing?!" Tracy shrieked, getting up on her knees and goggling at the disposable diaper strapped tightly around her waist. Her head felt funny. Why was she in bed? The last thing she remembered was Sabrina, her stepdaughter-to-be, giving her something to drink, and then...
"Ah, you're awake!" came a young woman's voice. "Did you enjoy your little nap, Tracy?"
Tracy looked up to see Sabrina standing over her, a mocking smile on her face. "Sabrina?" She still felt a little confused and disoriented, but she didn't like the expression on the girl's face at all. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What did you..." She thought back to that moment in the kitchen, when Sabrina had unexpectedly offered to make her morning coffee. "Did you drug me?!" she screeched. "And why did you put me in a fucking diaper?"
Sabrina's smile widened. "If my Dad wants to get remarried, fine," she said matter-of-factly. "But it's not going to be to some vapid bimbo who's only after his wallet."
Tracy flushed. So what if she was only after Sabrina's father for his money? He was in his sixties or something. If he wanted a hot young trophy wife, what was wrong with that? And if she ended up divorcing him after a year or so and taking half of his fortune, it would be his own stupid fault for being so naïve.
"Unfortunately," said Sabrina, "Dad's been totally taken in by your seductive little schemes, so it's up to me to protect him." Her eyes glittered dangerously. "It's up to me to make sure he'll never be attracted to you again."
"What are you..." But Tracy suddenly gasped, a manicured hand flying to her mouth, as she felt a tiny trickle of pee leak into her Pampers. She tried to clamp down on the flow, but nothing happened. The trickle stopped after only a few seconds, but it was enough to make the padding between her legs feel disgustingly warm and wet, and more to the point, it had been completely out of her control. “What did you do to me?!" she squealed, repulsed by the sensation of piss soaking into her pants and pressing against her pussy.
"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Sabrina laughed. "Isn't it obvious, you dumb whore? I made you incontinent. Or is that word too big and complicated for you? Would it be easier to understand if I told you that you'll never use the little girl's room again?"
Tracy stared at her, open-mouthed, too stunned and horrified to speak. She couldn’t be incontinent. She couldn’t be. It wasn't possible to just take someone's control away!
"I added a special ingredient to your latte this morning," Sabrina explained, as if reading her mind. "A little something I found online. A few drops are enough to cause total and permanent incontinence, though I promise you it's quite untraceable, so don't bother running to the police to whine about how your boyfriend's meanie daughter stole your potty training. I made sure not to leave any evidence, and you'll just sound crazy."
Tracy felt as though she'd been doused in icy water. If Sabrina was telling the truth, if she really was incontinent, then she'd never be able to seduce a man again! Her stomach rolled as she imagined trying to persuade Sabrina's father to buy her a new pair of shoes, clutching his arm and rubbing her breasts against his chest, only to feel her diaper drooping between her legs as she pooped in it without warning. She'd be a joke!
Sabrina was smirking. "Are you getting it now, you gold-digging trollop? Your homewrecking days are over. Men aren't going to look twice at you when they find out about your little potty-pants problem. The kind of guys you're after want a hot piece of ass, not a diapered one, and without your sex appeal you're nothing but an overgrown brat. But you should know, there are men out there who are into girls that need diapers. Maybe you could find one of them to look after you? Of course, it wouldn't be the kind of glamorous lifestyle you'd hoped for... It would be a life of spankings, early bedtimes, messy highchair feedings, and begging your Daddy for diapie changes. But hey, at least you wouldn't have to work!"
481 notes · View notes
agaypanic · 1 month
Text
Regina's Barbie Part 2
Masterlist
Request Something!
Summary: After giving you a makeover, Regina takes you to a party. She hates the attention you’re getting and decides to make it clear that you’re not available.
A/N: sorry for not posting in a million years (4 days). my first regina fic got a lot of love and some people wanted a part 2, so here it is!
***
You had been to a few high school parties in your life, but you had never been to one thrown by one of the most popular kids in school. So you weren’t too surprised to see everyone throwing you looks when you walked in, especially when Regina George was clinging to your arm to make sure you didn’t stray too far from her. You may have been dressed in the girl’s clothes with stellar makeup, but everyone could tell you were an outsider.
“Relax,” Regina whispered in your ear, and you had to keep yourself from shuddering at the chill that ran down your spine. 
She pulled you over to a counter that was filled with different drinks, figuring you wouldn’t be able to stand this party sober any longer. You didn’t ask Regina what she had put in the cup she handed to you; you were too busy gulping the strong liquid down.
“Oh my god, I’ll be right back,” Regina said, seemingly distracted as she looked across the room in disgust. “I think Gretchen’s trying to hook up with Jason, that skeez!” 
Then you were on your own. It pissed you off a bit, Regina dragging you to this party just to leave you alone. But you decided to brush it off, pouring yourself another drink and gravitating towards a wall. Soon enough, she’d be back for you, and you could get through this night.
“Hey there!” Some guy appeared next to you, making you flinch in surprise. You recognized him from hallways and assemblies but didn’t know his name. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new or something?”
“Nope.” You laugh, putting the cup to your lips as you thought of something else to say. “I usually don’t have time for parties, but a friend wanted me to come.”
“Well, whoever your friend is, I’ll have to thank them.” Anyone else in your position might have giggled at the attention this objectively attractive guy was giving you. But in all honesty, you were too busy wondering when Regina was coming back to you. “Wanna dance, hottie?”
“No thanks.” You respond, eyes darting to the other side of the room, where Regina seemed to be reprimanding and chasing away the boy that Gretchen had been talking to. You wondered if she’d turn around to face you if you stared at her hard enough. “I’m kind of with someone here.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least not in the way he might’ve taken it. But you were trying your best to get this stranger to back off.
“Did this someone give you that kiss mark?” You flinched when he touched your cheek, smudging the lip print that Regina had planted on you just an hour or so before. It made you mad for some reason, and not just because this man touched your face without asking. “I bet I can give you a better one.”
“Oh my god, get away from her, Travis!” A venomous voice sounded, and you were grateful to see Regina standing next to you, giving Travis a sneer that almost made her perfect face seem not so perfect. “Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?”
Travis took a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. Then he squinted, eyes darting between your face and Regina’s lips before he let out a small chuckle.
“Lemme guess…” He said, turning back to you while pointing at the blonde. “Is this who you’re with?”
Regina answered before you could even think of a response.
“Yeah, she is. So go find someone else to try to blow you; she’s taken.”
With that, Travis left, cheeks reddened with slight embarrassment and drunkenness. You were still stuck on Regina’s last sentence when she grabbed your chin, turning your head to face her. She inspected your cheek, seemingly disappointed at the state her once pristine kiss mark was now in.
“You’d think that he’d see this and take a hint.” She muttered, not letting go of your face.
“And what hint would he be getting from it?” You asked, feeling shy. Even more so when Regina’s eyes started staring into yours. “Asking, you know, just out of curiosity.”
“Are you serious?” She asked, raising a brow. You gulped down the rest of your drink so you wouldn’t have to respond. But even when you were done, and your cup was thrown into a nearby trash can, Regina seemed to still be waiting for a response.
“Just a bit…” You replied.
Regina scoffed, stepping closer to you. If that was even possible. You gulped at the extremely close proximity, trying to not look down at her lips.
“Guess I have to make it clear to everyone that you’re mine.” 
Regina used both hands to cup your face and pull you towards her. You made a slight noise of surprise as she pressed her lips to yours, but you were quick to return the kiss after the initial shock wore off. People must have been watching Regina George kissing some girl they’d probably never seen before. But for a moment, it felt like only you and Regina were in this hot and crowded room. 
When she pulled back, Regina smirked at your stunned expression, clearly still reeling from the kiss.
“Everyone, including you.” She said, kissing you once more before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the living room to show you off some more.
***
Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2
576 notes · View notes