Summary: After your first win in China, you start to notice how Toto treats you differently from the rest of the Mercedes crew. You try to brush it off, blaming it on your overthinking. But when he calls you on your week off, ordering you to come to Brackley, you can't shake off the feeling anymore.
Themes: rookie!reader, Mercedes!reader, age gap (20 and 54), dark!Toto, problematic power dynamics, divorced!Toto, finnish!reader
Notes: I love creating slow burns that feel like torture!! Nothing major happens in this part either, sorry. I have to build momentum! But do enjoy Toto being a bit of a creep and showing clear signs of favouritism. Also, I had to give the reader a nationality so that the story would make sense. I chose Finland because I just wanted to involve Mika Häkkinen in the story in some way. (And I also may or may not be from Finland...)
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Chinese Grand Prix 2026
Sunday, March 15th, 05:01 p.m.
Ich bin Ausländer (Ausländer) /mi amor, mon chéri /Ausländer (Ausländer) /ciao, ragazza, take a chance on me
The song has played in my head all weekend. And it couldn't be any more ironic. I don't think I've ever felt more like a foreigner anywhere else than in China. China is the complete opposite of everything I'm used to. Finland has only 5 million people, China has 1 billion. Finland uses the latin alphabet, China has a logographic system. I've felt so out of place almost all week. So, it feels comforting to hear the Finnish national anthem playing.
I hold my hand over my heart, murmuring some of the lyrics. /ei vettä rantaa rakkaampaa, kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien! This is one of those rare moments where I feel patriotic. I look over at Mika who's smiling at me, singing along. I can't help but smile back. This is a moment I'll never forget. My first win. I've worked so hard for this. George and Lewis drown me in champagne. It perfectly hides the few happy tears that run down my cheek.
---
Lewis is hosting an after party tonight. This one I'm not even thinking about skipping. Lewis' first Ferrari podium and my first win, those are things worth partying about.
I'm about to leave, making sure I have everything I need. I open the door, getting scared as there's a man standing there. Thank God it's just Toto. "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me." I sigh in relief as I enter the hallway, closing the door behind me. Toto's carrying another jewellery box and champagne bottle, this time only bigger. "My apologies, I didn't know you would be opening the door before I even had the chance to knock." He holds out the champagne bottle to me and I take it.
"Thank you, Toto, but again, you didn't have to get me anything." I reply, looking up at him. I wonder if he only has two outfits in his closet. It's either the team kit button down or a completely white one paired with black suit pants. All that money and he can't spend it on clothes? "And again, mein Engel. You deserve it." He starts walking with me towards the elevator.
"Why do you call me that?" I ask as we enter the elevator. Toto looks at me, his brown eyes almost intense, like he's evaluating me. "It suits you. You not only look like an angel, but you act like one too." I furrow my brows and he seems to read my confusion. "You do as you're told and you don't get into trouble." He unravels my bun with his other hand, combing his fingers through my hair before speaking again. "Keep your hair open." There's a hint of command in his tone, although he's speaking to me softly.
Toto offers me a ride to the party. He places the box on the dashboard and tells me not to touch it. We don't really talk during the drive. A rather awkward silence if you ask me. Whenever he shifts the gear, his hand lingers next to mine before returning to the wheel. And it's not only his hand that lingers, his gaze too. I feel like he purposely found the closest red lights so he could steal a longer glance at me, but I can't prove it. I could also just be delusional. After all, he is an attractive older man who's giving me attention.
We stop in front of the club where the party is held. Toto doesn't open the safety locks immediately. Instead he takes the jewellery box and turns to me, opening it. It's a thin golden necklace with a pearl. It's probably from the same set as the bracelet. I go to touch it but he stops me. He gestures for me to turn and I comply. Toto moves my hair away from my neck and then takes off my cross necklace. He replaces it with the necklace he got me, his hands lingering on my neck and shoulders. I look admire the pearl in it, it's definitely real. "Thank you." I mumble as I turn to him. I look at the cross necklace he's now holding. It was my grandmother's and I don't really want to lose it. "Could I maybe get that back? It was-" Toto interrupts me waving a dismissing hand. "I'll hold on to it." He gives me a reassuring smile before unlocking the safety lock. "Come on, Lewis is waiting." He says, getting out of the car.
Jesus, that was weird. I try not to think about it too much, I want to be able to enjoy my night. Toto wraps his hand around my waist as we enter the club, the loud music and dim lighting overwhelming me a bit to even register it fully. Lewis comes to greet us as we walk further into the club. "Congratulations to you both, man what a rocketship you built, Toto. Right after I left too!" Lewis chuckles as he gives us both a hug. I give Lewis the bottle of champagne Toto got me as a congratulatory gift, feeling Toto's grip tighten at the same time. I'm not a big drinker, so it made sense for me to give it to someone else. Lewis takes Toto with him, wanting to catch up with him. He congratulates me again before leaving with Toto. Toto's hands linger on my waist until he's too far to hold. I see George by the bar, talking with Carmen. "George!" I shout out to him, rushing to join him and Carmen.
---
Friday, March 20th, 09:28 a.m.
I wake up to my phone ringing. It must have been ringing for a while, because when I finally answer it a man's voice sounds relieved and annoyed at the same time.
"Finally. I've been trying to reach you for a while now." It's Toto. "Sorry, I just woke up." I answer, sitting up in my bed, barely awake. "I need you to come to Brackley. Today." He sounds urgent. "Is something wrong? I still have a day off before work tomorrow." I yawn, getting out of bed. "You're coming. My plane's there in an hour." "But I'm in Monaco-" I try to protest but he interrupts me. "I know. You're still coming." He hangs up. How the hell does he know I'm in Monaco? George is probably there and told him. Well shit. 30 minutes to the airport by taxi, so I have 30 minutes to get ready. I rush to the bathroom.
---
The taxi arrives in Brackley at one. Toto's already waiting by the front doors. "What the hell was so urgent I had to get here before my work hours?" I ask him, slightly irritated as he takes my bag and walks with me inside Mercedes HQ. "Language." He warns. We enter the elevator and he pushes the button to his office. "Sorry. I'm tired and I hate being rushed." I sigh, calming down. "We need to talk." He says, his voice serious. I look up at him sort of in disbelief. The elevator doors open to the top floor. "And this couldn't be handled through the phone?" I ask him, getting annoyed again. "No." He states, opening the door to his office and gesturing for me to enter. "Ei jumalauta." I mutter underneath my breath, taking off my coat.
He places my duffel bag down next to his desk. I sit down on one of the chairs in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak. "Is George coming too?" He shakes his head as he rolls up the sleeves of his button down. "No. And he doesn't need to know." I furrow my brows at that. This man loves to confuse me. "Why not?" He looks down at me. "Because I don't want you two fighting over who's my number one driver." Makes sense. I guess the brocedes break up was rough for him too. But still. Why does he only want to talk to me?
He sits down on the leather chair in front of me, the desk being the only thing to separate us. "I think it's time I teach you the rules." He says looking at me intently. "We already went through them." I answer, clearly confused. "I'm not talking about team rules. I'm talking about rules between you and me." Now I'm even more confused. And maybe a little concerned. "I'm sorry?" I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly. "Do you remember what happened last Sunday? At the party." He raises his eyebrows, looking at me like I did something wrong. I look away, trying to remember. "Yeah, I think so. I had a lot to drink and a lot of fun. And I woke up the next day, with a massive hangover, and next to a mechanic. But he was Red Bull's mechanic, so don't worry." I reply, finding it rather amusing, but he clearly doesn't. His jaw clenches and he takes off his glasses. He stands up, running his hands through his hair.
"Exactly why we need rules." He looks at me, almost disappointed. I look away rather quickly. I don't want him to be disappointed in me. I think I'd cry if he ever was. There's a short silence between us that he ends. "You can go out and have fun. You can drink yourself to a hangover as long as your liver can take it. But you can't wake up next to random boys. I don't want them distracting you." He says, his voice soft but assertive. Distracting me? I don't even remember the guy's name. He walks behind me, looking out of the window before speaking again. "Podiums and wins grant you prices. You get to go out, have fun. Anywhere below the top five? You're the one paying the price." He turns to me, being so close that I can feel my head touch his waist. His hands once again rest on my shoulders.
"You want to keep your seat? You play by my rules. No boys, no distractions. Partying or cleaning? It's your choice." He then turns my head up with his finger to look at him. "You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?" Oh, fuck him. He knows what he's doing. "No, sir." I whisper. I can see a smirk form on his face before letting go of my chin. He taps on my shoulder, signaling for me to get up. "Now be a good girl and hop on the simulator if you want to get off work early tomorrow. I'll bring your bag to your room soon."
He walks back behind his desk, sitting down and opening his computer. I nod, relieved for this torture to be over. I'm about to open the door when he calls my name. He tosses me back my cross necklace. I thank him, closing the door behind me. Jesus, it was getting tense in there. Glad I didn't tell him how I noticed him staring at me all night at that party. Probably would have made that conversation ten times more uncomfortable. A million questions run through my head. And I hate that I don't have anyone to talk to about this. It's been a long fucking day and the day isn't even over yet.
As I get on the simulator, I can't stop thinking about one thing. How did he know I was in Monaco if George isn't here to tell him, and I haven't posted anything online since the Chinese Grand Prix? Is he stalking me? No, someone from Mercedes must have known and told him. Anyway, Suzuka is next. I have to focus.
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Taglist: @thebadwritersposts (if you'd like to be added, comment below)
Themes: Reader is a rookie Mercedes driver, age gap (20&53), power dynamics, reader has daddy issues, Toto acting kind of odd and maybe even creepy?
Notes: Nothing major happens in this part other than building tension and creating a slow burn. Lewis was still at Mercedes in 2025 and joined Ferrari in 2026 in this fic!! (I think we all want to forget his 2025 season)
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Australian Grand Prix 2026
Wednesday, March 4th, 07:15 a.m.
Plain talking (plain talking) /take us so far (take us so far) /broken down cars (broken down cars) /like strung out old stars (strung out old stars..
The lyrics of my current favourite song play in my ears as I look out the window of the plane. Melbourne looks so beautiful from the sky. I've never been to Australia before, so we came here a bit early to have a day of tourist activities. A 22 hour direct flight from Helsinki is not for the weak. I'm surprised I even managed to sleep at all. The anxiety I get from flying along with my nervousness about the upcoming race weekend have been keeping my brain awake.
I fiddle with my cross necklace as the flight attendant brings me a Red Bull. I take my headphones off in surprise. I didn't order anything, yet I still take it and thank her. I look over at Mika - my manager - sitting across from me.
"A Red Bull? You do remember I'm at Mercedes, right?" I ask him playfully as I open the can, taking a sip.
"I know you need it. I have a lot to show you in Melbourne. It's a wonderful city, you'll love it." He chuckles lightly as he answers back in Finnish.
I've known Mika since I was thirteen. It was at the Finnish Karting Championship Grand Prix held in Pori. He was there with his daughter who had just started karting. I was one of three other girls there. I had won the five previous races and was the runner up for the championship. He was working for McLaren at the time in recruitment. And to my luck, I won the race and after it he came to talk to me and my mum. He gave my mum his phone number and after a lot of talking about opportunities, finances, school and whatever else worried my parents, they finally agreed. My parents aren't rich. Both of them blue collar workers. Mika sort of saved me from my dreams collapsing. I joined the McLaren Driver Development Programme at 14 and was moved directly to European F3 in a span of couple months. And once I got a spot in F2 after winning the European F3 championship, Mika became my manager. Mika's a great manager and when I'm not training or racing he acts like a typical Finnish dad. He has basically adopted me into his family but I doubt he'd admit it.
---
Mika helps me put my bags in the back of the rental car. He only has one bag compared to my five. Not my fault I want to look good when I'm not racing.
"So, what was the name of the hotel Toto talked about?" Mika asks as we get inside the car.
"The Ritz-Carlton. 650 Lonsdale Street." I read from my phone. I sip on the Red Bull as we start driving.
We drive in comfortable silence. Us Finns aren't big talkers.
When we arrive at the hotel, a valet is there to help us. He takes our bags and helps us get settled in the hotel. I try to help him but Mika chuckles at me before turning to the valet. "I'm sorry, she's not used to this lifestyle." He apologises to the valet, his Finnish accent clear as he speaks in English. He gives the valet a tip and then turns to me.
"You'll get used to it. Now, get some rest before getting ready for the day. I'll come knocking on your door when it's time to go exploring. I'm sure someone from Mercedes will be here soon to greet you." He speaks to me again in Finnish. He hugs me before leaving, but I notice that someone's already by the door. It's George. Mika greets him as he leaves, leaving us alone.
George walks in, hugging me as we greet each other. "You made it here early. Haven't seen you in two weeks, I was starting to miss you." He says, slightly surprised with his strong British accent.
"Yeah, Mika wanted to show me Melbourne before the race weekend starts. I'm so glad you're here. I thought I would be the only one." I answer, smiling at him. George has been really kind to me ever since I joined Mercedes. Replacing a seven-time world champion is a huge pressure, but he's made sure I feel welcomed at Mercedes.
"Oh, don't worry. You're definitely not the only one. Mechanics, engineers, all the other important people who work with the cars got here on Monday. If anything us and Toto are the ones late. Anyway, would you like help with your things?" George remarks, offering a helping hand.
"Oh, you really don't have to, George. But thank you for offering to help. I have a very specific system when it comes to my things, so I'd rather unpack myself. Where's Toto, by the way?" I reply as I open one of my bags.
"All right, then. Toto's supposed to be here by two." George hugs me again before leaving, giving me space to unpack. At the door he turns around like he just remembered something.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Mercedes has this tradition of getting everyone together for dinner before the race weekend starts and it's tonight at eight. Vue de monde. I'll text you the address." He then leaves before I can thank him.
I sigh as I start unpacking. "Vai niin."
---
08.00 p.m.
My legs are killing me. I've been walking around Melbourne all day with Mika. I've seen probably every museum, café and park that Melbourne has to offer. And now I have to go to a fancy dinner wearing fancy clothes. I'm not complaining, though. Free food is free food. Apparently Toto pays for it all. That's insane if you ask me. I know he has money, but still, Jesus. But it's still nice of him. And also I haven't gotten my first F1 paycheck yet, so I'm broke compared to someone like George. It's actually what started Franco and I's friendship. Both of us being broke at the drivers' dinner that Lewis paid for two weeks ago.
I arrive at the table, George, Bono and the other men standing up to welcome me. Looks like Mercedes men have manners. It makes me slightly blush. George is the first to notice Toto. I turn around, Toto approaching us. He greets me first. He smiles at me and I smile back, shaking his hand. He puts a hand on my shoulder, turning me faintly towards him. "Glad to see you again, sweetheart. Hope your flight went well." He says, his Austrian accent stronger than I remembered.
"It did, thank you." I affirm, noticing how intense his eye contact is. Toto has always made me rather nervous. Everyone knows he's intimidating. George told me once I know him well enough he won't be so scary. I want to believe him. He nods, his hand still on my shoulder as he greets the others. Toto pulls out a chair for me, next to him. I sit down, thanking him.
The dinner went well. I tasted foods I've never even heard of and wines that are more expensive than the fanciest dress I own. We talked about the upcoming weekend. Went through the different strategies, schedules, all of it. At the end of the dinner, when we've all finished eating and we just talk while slowly sipping on our drinks, George makes a joke about Toto being the "leader of the pack" when discussing our upcoming Adidas Y3 x Mercedes collaboration. Toto smiles at it and then turns his head towards me.
I gently put down my wine glass before looking at him. Although he seems serious and tense, the way he speaks is almost gentle and playful. "You're not a wolf, you're a tiny little lamb." He says to me. I don't really know how to respond. Is he being mean? Or am I missing a serious social cue here? "But by the end of this season, you'll understand what it takes to be a wolf." He then takes his wine glass, cueing everyone else to take theirs as well. "To a dominating season." Bono remarks as we toast, ending the rather awkward silence just a second before.
---
Race Day
Sunday, March 8th, 08:00 p.m.
The weekend didn't start well. Both free practises went to shit. George, Toto, Bono and Mika, pretty much everyone told me that free practises didn't matter. I knew they didn't. I never watched them back when I was watching F1 on the television. I just wanted to make a good first impression. To prove that I belonged in this sport just as much as a man.
I managed to get P2 in qualifying. Although I am highly self-critical, I had to admit that was pretty fucking good. My nerves were so high before the race that I couldn't sleep. I managed to get maybe two hours of sleep. But once I got in that car and those lights went out, all of my thoughts stopped. I only focused on doing my best. And it worked. The rush of adrenaline kept me awake and focused. I got P2 on my first ever F1 race. Mercedes front row lock-out. Perfect way to start the season.
After washing away at least five bottles worth of champagne off me, I start getting ready for the after party hosted by Charles. I'm honestly tired, but George said I have to come. Apparently I am not allowed to miss my first Grand Prix after party. Especially not Charles'. I've just finished doing my makeup when I hear a knock at the door. I scramble to put on some clothes before opening the door, as I've only had my bathrobe on. I open the door to find Toto standing there, a velvet jewellery box on one hand and a small bottle of champagne on the other. "I came to congratulate you again." He says like it's obvious.
I let him in, thanking him for his gifts. He closes the door behind him, looking around my room. I sit back down by the vanity, opening the small bottle of champagne and taking a sip. He comes up behind me, looking down at me with the box in his hand. He opens the box, revealing a gold bracelet with tiny pearls.
"I thought it would look nice on you." He states, his voice low. He takes my hand gently and puts the bracelet on me. I'm confused to say the least. The bracelet is beautiful, but I don't understand why he would buy me one. "You really didn't have to buy me anything, Toto." I mutter.
"You deserve it. You did good today, mein Engel." He whispers it into my ear. His voice low and soft. His fingers linger on my wrist. I hope he doesn't notice how flushed my cheeks are. Why does he have to do that? He's my boss, it will have to stay professional between us, so no crushing. "Thank you." I whisper back, looking up at him. He lets my hand go, moving to my hair. He runs his fingers through it before taking the brush. I admire the bracelet on my hand but his sudden gesture to brush my hair takes my attention.
"You should wear your hair down tonight. It looks nice with the black dress you'll be wearing." He comments, setting down the brush and looking at me through the mirror. He sets his hands on my shoulders again. "Enjoy tonight. You're only young once." His grip tightens slightly. "But don't do anything stupid. I want you here safe and sound in the morning. Understood?"
I nod, smiling faintly. He smiles back. "That's my good girl. Enjoy your night." He affirms, leaving the room and me confused. "Yeah, you too." I call out as he closes the door. I sit there for a moment, unsure of what just happened. I wonder if he's like this with George as well. Honestly, I'm too embarrassed to ask him. I shake off what had just happened and finish getting ready. As I leave my hotel room, I make sure I have everything I need. My keys, phone and wallet. I turn off the lights and lock the door. I'm now ready to enjoy the night. And unbeknownst to me, Toto is now ready to keep an eye on me with the tracker he installed in my bracelet.
☄︎ Warnings: NSFW, not proofread, foursome, oral (f! and m! receiving), exhibitionism ish, so many penises, pure filth with no plot
☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x John Tucker, F!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis, F!Reader x Garrett Graham, F!Reader x John Logan
☄︎ Rating: Mature, 18+
☄︎ Words: 2345
☄︎ AN: written for this request. it's a good thing i'm not in that universe cause i would genuinely be hopping from room to room🧍🏽♀️let me tell ya it is not easy to coordinate something for all five of them to do so a lil suspension of disbelief is needed pls
☄︎ Summary: The boys need comfort after they lose a big game
cr: hlfaheart for the header 𖹭
The tension in the air was almost suffocating when you walked into the hockey house unannounced and uninvited, not that you needed an invitation. You were given keys for a reason.
They were so wrapped up in their own shit, they didn’t even notice when you strutted in.
Dean sat leaning forward with his elbows firmly placed on the table. His palms were pressed against his forehead as his right leg bounced with restless energy.
Behind him, Logan leant against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle. His head was tilted back against the wall, and you could see the muscle tick in his clenched jaw from where you were standing.
In the centre of the room, Garrett was pacing a hole into the rug. You couldn’t hear what he was muttering to himself but you could hear a heavy thwack sound coming from the kitchen. Tucker was angrily stress cutting vegetables, the knife slamming into the chopping board with every chop.
If there was any man you trusted with a knife, it was Tucker. But he had too much pent-up energy, and you worried he’d accidentally nick his hand or something worse. You immediately walked over to him and wrapped your hand around his wrist to stop the blade from descending again.
His eyes widened, not expecting someone to be there. When he noticed it was you, his shoulders dropped immediately. You loved the effect you had on him. Really, it’s the effect you’ve had on them all at some point.
The scene you walked into isn’t unexpected; the Briar U Hawks had lost one of the most important games of the season tonight. And it was their fault. Even as a non-hockey fan, you could see how wrong their play was, they were disjointed and the more the scoreline built, the more each player desperately went for their own glory.
You, as their friend with no ulterior motives whatsoever, had come over knowing that the frustrations would be high and they’d be looking for an outlet.
“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Garrett suddenly snaps. His voice is husky, you assumed he had been shouting a lot tonight. “We looked like a bunch of selfish, desperate, rookies out there. Logan, I was wide open but you still tried to solo through their defensemen. Dean, you were completely out of position because you wanted to score. What part of defenseman do you not understand?”
If this were a cartoon, you’d be seeing steam coming out of Garrett’s ears right about now.
“We needed a goal,” Dean muttered in response, not bothering to look up from his hands.
“No. We needed to play like a fucking team.” Garrett stops pacing to glare in Logan and Dean’s direction. “If we can’t work together, then our season is dead. We might as well just give up now and save ourselves the embarrassment.”
You’d heard enough. “Ok, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
All four pairs of eyes turn to look at you. Logan’s crossed arms relax a little and he stands up straighter.
Garrett scowled but his voice was softer than before as he addressed you. “Dramatic? We threw the game away because we have zero coordination as a team.”
“I beg to differ,” you said as you took a step into the living room. Tucker followed you, drying his hands on a dishcloth. “Dean and Tucker demonstrated excellent team work last week. I’m sure we could teach you all a thing or two.”
Tucker’s cheeks flushed as he reminisced over what had happened when the three of you went back to his room after a party. You all had a time.
You looked over at Dean. He was leaning back on the chair now, a cocky grin on his face. The look in his eye was a challenge. Were you really thinking about doing this here? In front of them?
It was no secret that you were interested in all four of the men in the room. You’d been with all of them too with the exception of Garrett. You owned your sexuality and were a proud puck bunny.
You enjoyed pushing the boundaries of what you could take, what you could handle. And the prospect of pleasuring all four of them at the same time had you biting down on your lip.
To prove you were serious, you turned to Tucker and wrapped your arms around his neck. He immediately threw the dishcloth he was holding on the floor and wrapped his arms around you.
Looking back over your shoulder at the others in the room, you noted how they watched you with bated breath. “Think of this like a training drill,” you purred. “Use me to practice your teamwork.”
When nobody left the room, you turned back to Tucker. You looked down at his lips then back up to his eyes. As you leant in closer, he surrendered to you easily.
You pressed a few soft kisses to his jaw, then the corner of his mouth, then his mouth. You licked at his lips, a silent invitation that he happily obliged, allowing you to shove your tongue into his mouth.
Tucker kissed like a gentleman, following your rhythm and pace. He moaned into your mouth as you sucked on his tongue. He, oddly, tasted like cherries.
Before he could pull you closer, you broke away and headed straight over to Dean, climbing onto his lap. Dean didn’t hesitate; his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt and ran up and down your back. A large calloused hand pulled down the cup to your bra and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your nipple.
Eye contact was your weapon of choice to keep men hooked, so as you ground down into Dean, you kept your eyes on Logan who was stood frozen behind him. His eyes were dark, unable to look away from the scene in front of him.
Dean bucked his hips up into you as you repeatedly ground down into him, his hands settling on your waist. Behind you, you could hear the sound of Tucker moaning and you knew he was touching himself watching you roll your hips.
“Fuckkk, you’re needy, aren’t you?” Dean cooed, even as his head lolled back.
Tucker strode forward and cleared the clutter off of the table with a sweep of his arm. “Put her here,” he called to his teammate.
Dean had your shirt pulled over your head and bra off in seconds. In the next few seconds, you were placed on the edge of the table. You whined at the loss of stimulation.
That didn’t last long though as Tucker and Dean descended on you quickly. Dean spread your legs to accommodate his shoulders as he began kissing up your thighs, hiking up your strategically-short skirt. Tucker nipped and licked at your neck.
“Ngh– so good,” you moaned.
Tingles ran through your veins as you looked over at Garrett. He was watching with the same intense focused that Logan had. It was the spotlight on you that you had been craving.
“Captain?” you called. “Want to join?”
Garrett moved immediately, as if he was just waiting for your permission. He pulled you into a kiss as Tucker moved to swirl his tongue around your nipple.
You moaned into Garrett’s mouth as you felt Dean’s breath ghost over your clothed pussy. The combination of all the attention, the anticipation, and the feeling of being watched by Logan and Garrett had you soaked already.
“Okay, have her lie back,” Dean said as he pushed at your stomach gently.
Tucker and Garrett took their mouths off of you and helped you to lay down comfortably on the table. You hissed as Dean pulled off your panties, the cool air hitting your heat.
“Tucker, come here.” Dean called.
Just like last week, they took their positions by your slick pussy. Their ragged breaths over you had your hole clenching. Two hands slipped under your butt, lifting you slightly so Dean could get at your hole. His tongue teased your entrance, lapping up your arousal, before plunging in. Tucker focused on your clit, flicking his tongue side to side in a rapid motion.
Garrett stepped out of his shorts and came to stand at the top of the table, close to your head. He hovered next to you, unsure of of what to do with himself and what he could ask of you.
You refused to break eye contact with him, even when a lewd moan escaped your lips as Tucker sucked on your clit.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Garrett.”
“Suck, please.” His voice was strained.
You leant over until your tongue reached his tip. You paid special attention to it, licking up the precum that had gathered there.
He hissed and bucked into your mouth as you sucked on the head.
Tucker and Dean were still working in tandem between your legs. Licking, sucking, and curling fingers into you. You mumbled praises to them around Garrett’s dick.
The sensations overwhelmed you just the way you liked, and it wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. Your moans urged the men in between your legs on, and your vision faded to black as the coil snapped and your orgasm waved over you.
Almost immediately, Garrett’s hips stuttered as he came into your mouth, shooting warm cum down your throat. You gently sucked him through it, his dick twitching heavily on your tongue.
When he had fully come down from his high, Garrett slid out of your mouth. “Umm… thanks?”
You watched him as he ran off upstairs to go and clean himself off.
Tucker returned to the room, you hadn’t even realised he left, carrying a box of condoms.
He looked down at you; you looked a beautiful mess with Garrett’s cum still dripping down your chin. “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”
You nodded eagerly.
Switching positions, you stood up so that Tucker could lie flat on the table. Once settled, he slapped his thighs, your invitation to climb onto him. You did so with an embarrassing urgency. In less than a minute, you were straddling his thighs, slowly lowering yourself down onto his condom-clad dick.
You took a minute to really feel him inside of you before you began to bounce. You alternated between fast snaps of your hips and slow grinds.
“Yeah, that’s it, darlin’,” Tucker praised from beneath you. “You take me in so well.”
You leant forward, palms resting on his chest as you bounced on him.
A hand snaked between your legs, rubbing circles around your clit. You turned to see Dean, one hand between your legs and the other jerking himself off. His tip was so pretty and pink, you wanted that inside you.
“Don’t cum yet, Dean,” you said in between breaths. “Want you inside me next.”
“I know you do, gorgeous. Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you after my teammate has had his way with you.” He had a stupidly cocky grin on his face and you wanted to slap it off of him.
“Fuck– yeah, I’m gonna-.”
Tucker began fucking up into you, thrusts erratic until his entire body jerked. His eyes rolled back as he came into the condom. You grind your hips, purposely clenching around him as he came down from his high.
“Thanking you, darlin’.” Tucker was always so smooth with it, it made you feel giddy inside.
You winced as Dean lifted you off of Tucker’s softened erection. He carried you over to the sofa, placing you there are he settled in between your legs.
“This is what you’re begging for, right?” He asked as he dragged his wrapped-up erection through the slickness at your folds. He let his dick catch on your hole, pushing the tip in then pulling it out.
“Yes,” you mumbled, mind dizzy from how turned on you still were.
“Speak up,” he commanded.
“Please,” you begged. “I’m begging. Fuck me, please.”
“Hmm.” Dean ran the tip of his dick over your clit. The sound of your frustrated grunts was intoxicating to him.
Your hand came down, taking hold of his dick and guiding it into you.
“Fuck, you really are so desperate for me.” His laugh died on a moan as he bottomed out in you.
You wrapped your legs around him, trying to pull him down deeper into you.
Every thrust was deep and deliberate. Now that you were wrapped around him, he was done with the teasing. He chased the release that he had been waiting for. He hit that spot within you that had your eyes rolling back and pussy clenching down around him.
Dean slipped a hand in between your legs, rubbing against your clit with enough pressure that it brought your body to the edge. You didn’t bother to try to muffle your moans, your voice getting louder as you got closer.
“That’s it, scream louder for me so they know just how well I fuck you.”
You came calling Dean’s name.
“I’m almost there baby, just keep squeezing around me,” Dean grunted.
Despite being still sensitive, you clamped down on this dick. His mouth hung open as he emptied his load into the condom. Just like with Tucker, you continued to grind your hips as Dean came down from his high.
“Thank you, gorgeous.” He said as he pulled out of you.
He kissed your forehead then walked over to where Logan was standing.
“She’s all yours,” Dean said, slapping Logan on the back.
Logan walked over to where you were sat waiting for him on the sofa. His voice was deep and throaty as he spoke for the first time since you got here. “I patiently waited for my turn.”
“You did,” you praised.
“So, how are you going to reward me for it?”
You slid off of the sofa and fell to your knees in front of him. Looking up through your eyelashes as you took him into your mouth.
synopsis: One date leads to another, and Garrett slowly but surely works his way into your life. As tensions escalate with your roommate, it becomes harder for him to let you out of his sight.
A scared yelp escapes you as you open your front door. Garrett texted you I’m here just five seconds ago. You find him in the hallway dressed in a forest-green sweatshirt and dark sweatpants, which stand in contrast to your cozy yellow sweater and favorite yoga pants. “Sorry,” you apologize quickly, hands against your cheeks as you feel them heat with embarrassment, “I thought you’d be waiting in your car.”
His smile is soft and charming as he looks you over. You’ve applied a light layer of makeup similar to your look at the party last weekend. Your hair remains in a ponytail, but you’ve thrown on your lucky, sparkly headband for good luck. Not that you needed any luck. Garrett had assured you there was nothing to worry about.
You suddenly feel like you’re forgetting something. “Oh, my purse!”
You hurry back into your apartment to retrieve it. Your roommate, Paige, and her boyfriend are making pancakes for dinner in the tiny kitchen you share. She isn’t wearing pants, and he’s made himself completely at home in nothing but his boxers. The moment you told her you wouldn’t be back until later, she’d invited him over.
You climb over your neatly made bed to grab your purse from the side table, which leaves you more out of breath than it probably should. Even though it contains only lip gloss, your license, a stick of gum, and a debit card with approximately seventy dollars on it, you feel much more secure carrying it.
When you turn around, Garrett is standing fully in your doorway, his eyes roaming over your shoebox apartment before settling on the couple in the kitchen.
“No way, you're Garrett Graham, right?” Paige’s boyfriend doesn’t go to school at Briar. You remember her saying he was about five years older than her, although you thought he could easily pass for thirty.
Your heart pounds as Ethan makes his way over to your date, hand out for Garrett to politely shake. He’s close to rambling about Garrett’s last game, and then he brings up the score and some more terms you have no clue about. And because Garrett’s so good at commanding a room and taking up space, which you’ve never been good at, he cuts through the conversation.
“Ready now, Bunny?”
Paige’s mouth gapes at his words, and you’re left with no time to process your new nickname. “Yes.” You’re next to Garrett in a flash, and his hand becomes wrapped around your waist. “Uhm, I’ll see you guys later!”
You have to close your front door tightly to relieve the awkward tension. “I’m so sorry.”
He shushes you as he leads you down to the elevator, as if he’s already comfortable navigating the building. Once you were in the privacy of the old elevator, Garrett asked, “That’s her fucking boyfriend?”
You nodded quietly.
“How often is he there?”
“Well, they just got back together–”
“Before she started fucking Dean. How often was he over?”
You shrugged, “A few nights a week, I guess. He works from home.”
You watch as his face twists into something close to disappointment. Or disgust. “And how often does he walk around with no clothes on?”
“Not often,” You say almost to soften the blow, “He’s just comfortable there, I guess. And it’s okay. She makes sure I’m okay with it before he comes over.”
“Ha,” He laughs softly before his lips form a thin line. Bad start to the night, you thought. And it’s all because of Ethan’s Ninja Turtle briefs. The elevator dings, and the two of you walk out to his car. Like a gentleman, he opens your car door for you, and you take the opportunity to get a few deep breaths in as the door shuts and he rounds the hood of the car.
You’re not sure why it’s so much harder to breathe when you’re close to him. You chalk it up to the two of you practically being strangers and your nerves.
During the drive to Garrett’s house, he doesn’t push the subject of your roommate and her boyfriend, which you’re thankful for. He decides to talk to you about his own roommates instead. You knew Dean, of course, and Garrett makes the point that he’s sweeter than he looks. Although he’s just as sexual as he comes off. Logan is his hardworking best friend. Tucker is also kind and is an amazing cook, according to Garrett. You do your best to listen, but as he parks his car on the street in front of the house, you realize that you’re about to actually meet all of them. Not in the setting of a party being hosted, but a casual weeknight where they’re living life normally.
The seriousness of the situation hits you. Garrett assured you that the night would be low-key, but what was casual about meeting all of his best friends?
“You okay?” A smooth voice snaps you out of your spiral.
You nod, nervously smiling back at him, “Sorry, I’m okay …hungry.”
“Good. C’mon, Tuck made stir-fry.”
You find that you don't actually need the courage to go inside and say hello to his friends because Garrett's hand on your lower back does the work for you. You don't have to say much. You don't have to figure out where to walk or stand because Garrett guides you.
Tucker stands near the stove, an apron tied around his waist, while Logan and Dean sit on bar stools at the kitchen island. They've already started digging into their meals, and when Tucker presents the two of you with your dinner plates, you can't help but marvel at both the presentation and the amount of food piled onto each one.
"Oh my goodness, you really didn't have to, Tucker—"
"No worries at all. Our casa is su casa, Y/N," he says, his voice warm and welcoming. "And I won't be offended if you don't eat it all. We eat a lot here."
Garrett squeezes your hip, and it serves as a reminder to stop smiling at him like an idiot.
"Thank you so much."
"Thanks, Tuck." Garrett's hand finally leaves your waist so he can grab both plates. "You ready to go upstairs?"
"Yeah," you say, and Logan and Dean exchange a knowing glance.
Garrett tilts his head toward the stairs, and you take that as your cue to follow.
"I-It was nice meeting you guys," you manage to say, offering a small wave.
Logan and Tucker return it immediately. Dean, meanwhile, is already shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Before anyone can say much else, you hurry after your date.
Garrett's room is large and dark-toned. The windows are huge, but nighttime doesn't offer much light. You've only taken a few steps inside, but the air already feels intimate.
"Your friends seem nice," you say as you stand frozen, your eyes wandering over every poster and piece of memorabilia. "And this house is also... super nice."
"They are. And thanks." Garrett sets the plates down on his nightstand before patting a spot on the other side of the bed. "Sit down and get comfortable."
You'd already taken your shoes off at the door, even though Garrett insisted you didn't have to, so now you're walking around in socks covered with tiny strawberries. You take a seat where he gestures, leaning against his pillows and crossing your legs.
He hands you your plate of food before grabbing his laptop.
"So, what kind of movies do you like to watch, little bookworm?" Garrett asks casually as he settles beside you. He makes sure to close the gap between you, his knee brushing yours and his arm resting against your shoulder.
"We can watch whatever. I don't mind."
"Hmm, okay, but that's not what I asked."
You turn toward him and find that he's already watching you.
"What do you like to watch, Bunny?"
"Uhm." You're suddenly embarrassed as you think over your taste in media. "I like... romance. And historical dramas, I guess. But I understand if you don't want to watch—"
"So what's your favorite movie?"
And that's how you end up watching Little Women with Garrett Graham.
You do your best to tackle the mountain of restaurant-quality food Tucker provided. Garrett finishes his plate, and as the movie plays, he becomes more invested than you'd expected.
The movie reaches the Christmas scenes, where Beth is feeling better and their father returns home. Garrett asks a question—something about whether a certain moment happened in the book—when your phone starts to vibrate.
You pick it up to silence it, only to find five unread messages from your roommate. Worried something bad has happened, you open the text chain.
Paige: Are you still coming home tonight?
Paige: Also, is it cool if Ethan stays for the rest of the week?
Paige: Since you're gonna be busy with your new friend :)
Paige: BTW I can't believe you're hooking up with Garrett Graham and today is the first time I'm hearing about it
Paige: Oh and I need rent earlier than the 1st
"What's wrong?"
"What? Nothing."
You realize Garrett has paused the movie.
You know you should ignore her, but then you start thinking about what she'll think if you don't respond. You find yourself staring down at your phone.
"Your hands are shaking."
The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. His mouth is close to your ear, and he's looking down at your phone too.
Instinctively, you tilt the screen away.
"What did she say?"
"I'm sorry I interrupted the movie—"
"Y/N."
Garrett's voice is stern enough to silence the anxious thoughts racing through your mind.
Then he holds out his hand expectantly.
Your heart starts beating faster.
You hesitate—or at least it feels like you do—before handing over your phone.
You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you let him read the messages.
"So her boyfriend's moving in?"
"Just for the week."
"And she's making you pay half the rent when you sleep on the couch, and she's letting some asshole stay there?"
You can't meet his eyes.
"It pulls out," you mumble.
"Fuck that."
"You don't understand, Garrett. She's been there for me. She really has..."
"Do you even have the money to give her?"
"Yes. Well, I can use my savings until I get paid again—"
"Fuck that for sure. Tell her to fuck off."
A startled yelp escapes you at the shocking suggestion.
Garrett's jaw ticks.
You don't know him well, but even you can tell he's angry.
"Please, can we finish the movie?"
Your face falls as you pull your knees to your chest. Tears sting your eyes, and you know you can stop them from falling if he just... moves on.
Please.
Please.
Please.
You hear him sigh before you hear the click of your phone locking.
"C'mere."
His large arms wrap around your shoulders as the movie starts playing again.
You soften against him, resting your head on his shoulder.
His tone lightens.
"Just because she blows up your phone doesn't mean you need to answer. She can wait."
"Okay," you say, and you believe him. "I'm sorry I made you mad."
"You didn't do anything, baby," he reassures you.
You do end up crying that night, but it isn't because of Paige.
It's Beth March's death that gets you.
The two of you make it almost to the end of the movie. Mr. Dashwood is just about to publish Jo's book when your eyes begin to grow heavy. Getting up early for class that morning has finally caught up with you.
The rolling credits are the last thing you see.
And the last thing you feel is Garrett Graham pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
Garrett had no intentions of stalking you, given he’d already decided you were his now. And he could acknowledge that going through someone’s phone is bad behavior, but he had to understand this situation with your roommate more. How else was he going to solve your problem if you refused to admit it was one?
Your roommate sent you the occasional good luck for a test, and there were a few times she told you to have a fun weekend. At least through text, he didn’t see any indications that she was supportive. Half your conversations were her just asking you to do the most outlandish things for her. Just two weeks ago, she asked you to clean the entire apartment, including her room, because she wanted to have friends over. A week before that, she asked if you could stay out of the apartment from seven o'clock to ten o'clock at night because a guy was coming over and she wanted privacy.
And all of your responses were the same.
So sorry!!
Of course!!
That’s fine!!
I really don’t mind!!!!
His hindbrain was telling him to find a way to escalate the situation, blow up your life, and let him pick up the pieces. The more logical part of his brain knew it was a matter of time before this bad situation got worse and that he could be the one to save you when that inevitably happened. And maybe, just maybe, he could help it hurt a little bit less. He could also make someone else suffer for hurting you.
He watched you sleep for a short while, and when he inevitably settled against you, grabbing your waist and pushing your bottom against his crotch, you didn’t even stir.
Garrett felt grateful that you were here with him tonight and sleeping peacefully in his bed instead of squeezed onto that pathetic pullout couch. His own anxiety felt better knowing you were safe. Whatever feeling you had planted inside of him at that party was only growing.
Garrett pressed his face into your hair and closed his eyes.
He'd make sure this became a regular thing.
You were so embarrassed when you woke up the next morning and realized you'd fallen asleep. As if you were the one taking advantage of him. It took some time for you to regulate and for Garrett to convince you that you hadn't done anything wrong.
"I wanted you here, Bunny. You look good in my bed," he'd said.
Over the next week, the only time you spent apart from Graham was when you had class or work. Even then, he offered to pick you up and drive you everywhere. It just made sense. You had no car. He did.
"I want to send you money. I'm wasting so much of your gas," you said as the two of you drove back to the hockey house.
"I don't want or need your money, Y/N."
"There has to be something I can do." Garrett watched the wheels turning in your mind. "I know. I'll bake you something."
"You can bake?" Garrett's eyebrows rose.
"No, but I could try." You shrugged, and his eyes softened as he held your gaze.
"That would be nice, Bunny, but I know what I want."
"What?" you'd asked with a smile.
"A kiss."
You stared back like a baby deer caught in headlights. "A kiss? From me?"
"Yes, genius."
"I've never kissed anyone—"
Then it was Garrett's turn to blanch. "What? You're serious?"
"No, I mean, I've been kissed. I have. I've just never done the..."
"You've never kissed someone first?"
You nodded hesitantly.
"Then let me be your first."
A long silence passed between the two of you as the radio played softly through Garrett's speakers. After he parked the car and undid his seatbelt, he reached over, like usual, and unclicked yours. Garrett had started noticing more and more of your nervous tics. Right now, your leg was bouncing so hard it practically shook the entire car.
"I mean, you kinda owe me, right?"
You bit down on your lip as you pulled your knees onto the seat and folded them beneath you. Leaning toward the center console, your smaller hands found his shoulders. Slowly, they slid to his neck and then the sides of his face. Your thumb brushed over his stubble, and you watched his eyes darken.
Garrett's eyes closed when your lips pressed softly against his. The kiss was brief and sweet, but it still left his head spinning.
You were still holding his face when you asked, "How was that?"
Garrett answered by leaning in and kissing you again.
Your lips worked to keep up as Garrett set a steady rhythm. Your hands found his shoulders while he reached for your waist. Before you knew it, he was hoisting you over the middle console until you were straddling his lap.
If there was any control you had left, you let it go.
Making out was kind of like all your conversations. Garrett pushed, forcing you to open up, and he peeled back your layers slowly. And he decided when it ended.
His hands traveled up your waist and beneath your shirt, his large palms roaming over the expanse of your skin. You felt warmth gather low in your stomach as your hips shifted against him.
You only tried to pull away because you needed air.
He kissed you so thoroughly that your lips already felt sore and swollen.
"Garrett," you breathed.
Immediately, he loosened his grip.
"Can we... I feel..."
"You feel what, Bunny?"
"Overwhelmed."
"I'm not gonna fuck you if that's what you're scared about. I just wanted to taste you."
"Oh." You weren't entirely sure how to respond to such blunt honesty. "Okay."
Maybe you'd been wrong to assume he wanted some kind of relationship.
Maybe he wanted something in between.
You'd never been in a real relationship before, so it wasn't like you knew exactly what you wanted. But deep down, you knew you didn't want a casual situationship.
And if that was what Garrett wanted... how would you even say no to him?
"What's wrong? Do you want more, Bunny?"
He toyed with the waistband of your jeans before his hand slipped lower and grabbed a handful of your ass.
You couldn't help how flustered you became. Suddenly, the car felt far too small.
"I like you like this."
He pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, and your eyes threatened to roll back at the pleasure of it.
"Like what?"
"Squirming on top of me." His voice dropped lower. "I can't think about anyone else, you know?"
"You can't?"
"I'm crazy about you."
He kissed your cheek.
Then the other.
Teasing you.
And you found yourself melting against him.
"I hate when you leave."
"Why?"
"This feels right, doesn't it?"
A kiss against your nose.
"You with me."
Another brush of his lips.
"I think you need me."
"I do?"
He hummed as his lips hovered over yours.
"I'll take good care of you."
You leaned closer, but he still didn't close the distance.
"You'll let me take care of you, right?"
Your lips parted.
You knew you didn't fully understand what he meant.
But you knew exactly what he wanted to hear.
And somehow, you wanted to give it to him.
"Yes."
A dark satisfaction flashed across Garrett's face.
"Good fucking girl."
Then his lips were on yours again, and every sensible thought you'd ever had disappeared from your mind.
Paige is right. You find that you're barely home over the next month, mostly because Ethan has been there every day since they'd gotten back together. You have no privacy to study, no room for your groceries, and Paige and Ethan have sex loudly most nights. Worst of all, he uses up your favorite brand of overpriced conditioner, the only kind that helps tame your hair.
The hockey house, although it's full of rowdy college boys, ends up feeling more peaceful. Garrett protects your space, makes sure you always have quiet when you study, and even buys you another set of all your toiletries so you don't have to pack a toiletry bag every time you come over. Plus, there's a free dinner almost every night, and Garrett's friends seem to actually like you. They ask questions about your classes, and they don't talk over you even though their voices boom much louder than yours.
You've started to rely on Garrett so much that the situation with Paige becomes something you want to handle on your own.
It takes everything in you not to just give in. You throw up twice before you can bring yourself to face her, but you eventually do. You're logical. You explain that you don't think it's fair to keep paying half the rent for a quarter of the space and no privacy.
She agrees.
She actually hears you out and promises she'll find a split that's more proportional.
Your shoulders feel lighter when you finally tell Garrett. He's frustrated, of course, that you kept it from him, but supportive nonetheless. Feeling any sort of control in your relationship with Paige is strange.
And ultimately, short-lived.
A week later, you have a babysitting gig that Paige helped set up for you. A friend of a family friend of hers. It should be an easy night considering the child you're babysitting is less than a year old.
Garrett has a game that night at Harvard, and Paige promises she'll be able to pick you up from the nearby city when she tells you about the job.
So the clock turns to eleven, the baby's parents come home, and you expect to find Paige waiting for you outside the apartment building's lobby.
Except she's nowhere to be found.
The lobby doors lock behind you, and she isn't picking up her phone.
The bus isn't running anymore.
And Garrett is at least an hour away in Boston.
Maybe she's just busy driving.
11:20.
You sit down on the steps outside the building, glancing between your phone and the city street in front of you.
11:35.
Your body starts to shake, and your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you can feel it in your ears.
11:45.
Garrett's smiling face appears on your screen, and it takes you a long moment to muster the courage to answer.
"Hello," you say. Your voice sounds smaller than it ever has before.
"Why are you still in the city?"
You'd forgotten he could see your location on his phone, a feature you'd never particularly used before but that Garrett insisted was for safety reasons.
"I'm, uh..." You hiccup. "Waiting f-for... Paige."
"She was supposed to be there an hour ago."
Not a question.
An observation.
"Why didn't you call me? Shit. Are you just standing outside?"
"I'm sitting outside the building."
"Jesus. Here's what you're going to do. Are you listening, Bunny?"
You nod before realizing he can't see you.
"Y-yes."
"Stand up. Turn to your right and start walking."
Although your knees wobble, you manage to do as he says.
"There's a fast-food place two blocks over. You're going to go inside and sit there. Don't talk to anyone, okay?"
You do your best to avoid eye contact with everyone you pass, from the twenty-somethings enjoying their night out to the shadier characters lingering on the sidewalks.
"Okay, Garrett."
You hold your bag tightly against your side. The night air has turned frigid, and your light blue crewneck does little to keep you warm. The cold motivates you to pick up your pace.
"I'm stuck here. I don't have my car, but I'm gonna call Jules, okay? I want you to wait there for them."
"Okay. I-I'm sorry I can't do anything right."
You're close to sobbing. You want to throw up. You're embarrassed, cold, and miserable.
"You just won your game. You should b-be celebrating."
"You're okay, baby. I'm gonna make sure you get home safely. I'm not mad at you."
His voice is deep and eerily controlled.
"Are you inside yet?"
The neon sign comes into view. It's still chilly inside, but you can finally breathe a little easier when you slide into an empty booth. A few people are scattered around the restaurant, but it's mostly quiet.
"I'm inside."
"Okay. I'm gonna call Jules. Stay put, okay? I'll call you right back."
"Okay. Thank you so much."
"Yeah, of course, baby."
Hope you enjoyed this chapter more from the reader's perspective!! If you were not added to the taglist, it's probably because you did not reblog or leave your thoughts on the last chapter :)
you had no idea how much you needed both hottest guys in briar u at the same time, until your situationship dean asked you, if you ever had threesome. and then offered his help in exploring something new.
🤍 part two
🤍 part three
WARNING : mention of weed, characters are a little high, blowjob, doggy, logan likes praising his partner during sex and dean likes talking dirty, mention of marking. dean and reader kinda have something but they kinda don’t, it’s complicated. logan is a manwhore.
A / N : just let me be, guys, i craved to write something like this. y/n mentioned to have a long hair but i didn’t attach a colour, needed that for the blowjob scene, please forgive me. also lmk if you liked it !! enjoy ;)
never in your life you thought that you would end up on the porch of the hockey house. with dean and john. smoking weed. but here you are, pouring your soul out, while both guys listened.
“wait,” dean interrupted her, “so you guys did like… only missionary? nothing new, nothing exploring ?”
you sighed and shook your head, “he was like one of those guys who believed that sex is not necessary. i mean— it is not necessary for some people, we all have different levels of libido, that’s fine. i just haven’t met someone who could match my level, yet.”
logan nodded knowingly, “on what level is your libido? i mean how much crazy are we talking?”
you stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, “well… i’m pretty kinky.”
“oh”, dean smiled mischievously and leaned closer, “so what is it ? dirty talks ? praising ? choking ? roleplays ?”
“uh… everything, i guess.”
“shit, fuck that guy, use me.”
you froze for a second and then bursted out of laughter.
“god, you’re so fucking crazy, di laurentis.”
“can’t judge him, though,” logan said lazily, “it’s not every day when you meet someone who could match your wants.”
“do you think about what i think…?”
“dean, she’s not gonna agree.”
“come on, we didn’t even ask yet.”
“um… asked about what..?”
dean smiled charmingly before fully turning to face you, “did you ever tried to do threesome?”
your jaw dropped. logan looked away, as if already regretting what dean said, but dean didn’t look away, didn’t move. just waited.
“oh shit, you’re serious.”
“i’m always serious when it comes to threesomes.”
“idiot.”
“yeah, i’ve been told before.”
you sighed heavily, deciding whenever it’s good idea or not. i mean, college years are for trying something new and exploring things, right ?
“i didn’t. i mean threesome. never tried that shit.”
“it’s not that scary, though. me and dean had it like… many times.”
“wait, you two fucked the same girl countless times?”
“oh god, no!” dean immediately stepped forward, “we had like two girls at the same time. and for a while we thought about having one girl together. it’s just exploring new stuff, call it whatever you want. we promise to make you feel as comfortable as possible, we set whatever boundaries you need, just say yes.”
you were silent for a good 13 seconds and then raised your head, looking at both of them, “when i say stop — we’re stopping, no pressing further. and we ask before doing something crazy.”
“deal.” dean nodded enthusiastically and threw you over his shoulder, “now bedroom”
you laughed and hit his back, “i’m gonna kill you!”
“you wish, sweetheart.”
dean’s bedroom was large, bed was king size, big enough for three of them. logan smiled and turned off main lights, leaving only soft dim light from bedside lamp. dean behind you already took off his shirt and wrapped his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his nose against your neck. you melted immediately. logan’s smile softened and he walked closer to you. hands are resting on your hips as he leaned closer and pressed his lips against yours. logan tasted like apples and something spicy, you weren’t sure, but you never wanted to stop kissing him. your hands moving under his t-shirt, fingers slowly dancing over his skin, and when he sucked in air sharply? you smirked into kiss and pulled him closer.
dean’s hands working on the button of your jeans, pulling them down slowly, his fingers leaving hot trails on their way. your knees gets weak when he parted your thighs with his fingers.
“you good?”
“y-yeah…” you nodded shakily and bit down logan’s neck, making him hiss.
one by one, logan’s thumb and forefinger worked the clasp open, each hook letting go like a held breath. he didn’t rush.
“relax, gorgeous… i’ve got you.”
meanwhile dean’s tongue flicked on your inner thigh, making you cling onto logan’s shoulder like on a lifeline. dean knew exactly what he was doing, he’d done that countless times before, but this time feels special. dean's fingers hooked into the damp fabric at your hip, not pulling it down, just tugging it gently to one side — enough to bare your pussy, enough to let his breath fall hot against sensitive skin before he started eating you out.
you moaned loudly, hands clenching against logan’s chest. the air left your lungs, you felt so surreal right now. logan’s strong hands held you still, pressing soft kisses over your shoulder.
“shhh, gorgeous, you’re doing so good.”
dean ate you out like he was starving, son of a bitch, he was a way too good at it, “that’s it… ride my face, sweetheart.”
your hands wandered lower logan’s stomach, one hand pulling inside of his jeans. he groaned at the sudden touch and quickly took his jeans with boxers off.
“come here,” he whispered, making her stand on all the four. dean kept eating her from behind, but on the front ? logan gently moved the tip of his cock over her lips, before slowly pushing inside. you immediately sucked him in deep and gagged.
“shh, easy there. you’re doing so good, i’m so proud.”
you’re close, but you want him first. your rhythm shifts — tighter, quicker, your jaw relaxing as you take him deeper. his fingers tangle in your hair. your cheeks hollow. and then you feel it: the way he stops breathing entirely. logan’s hips jerked once, twice, and then his hand fisted your hair tightly, riding his orgasm.
“fuck… such a good little girl.”
dean picked up his pace, now one finger joined his tongue. then another one. he finger-fucked you thoroughly, paying attention to the every shiver, every shaky breath. when your walls started clenching around him ? he suddenly pulled away, making you whine.
“sorry, princess, be patient.”
he quickly rolled condom onto his cock and pushed inside you, making you both groan. logan kissed all over your face, comforting you.
“fuck, baby… you’re so tight.”
dean wasn’t the type who fucked fast, but he was the type who fucked hard. you know that he will probably leave bruises on your hips from how hard he’s gripping them. he slowly picked up his pace, when he found the exact spot that made you gasp.
you whined and wobbled uncontrollably, feeling too good right now, right on the edge, “dean… i’m gonna—”
“that’s it baby… squeeze me…”
dean thrusted exactly three times more, before you screamed, arching your back. you milked down every drop out of him and leaned against logan, feeling completely wasted. dean kissed you back before pulling out slowly and getting rid of used condom.
logan helped you to lay down on the bed and tucked you under the blanket. dean looked at them with quiet awe and lied down behind you. logan kissed your forehead softly before picking up his clothes and walking out of dean’s room.
“how is my baby feeling?” dean asked, his voice low and calm.
“good… finds out i love being praised.”
“i’ll make a note.”
“you should.”
he chuckled softly and kissed the top of your head.
blurb: pt. 2 to jealou$y. lingering feelings of jealousy bubble up into desire inside logan. it certainly doesn’t help that you look so good in your costume.
warnings: fem!reader, smut, established relationship, alcohol (not under the influence), CONSENT KING JOHN LOGAN, oral (f!receiving), john logan tits guy CONFIRMED, fingering, riding, lots of praise because it’s john logan i don’t make the rules
You stopped having drinks after that incident. If you were getting lucky tonight, you needed to be sober and ready to pounce on Logan in the right state of mind.
Logan seemed to have the same idea, for you noticed he switched out his bottles of beer for cans of Sprite for the remainder of the night. Neither of you addressed it.
“Bro, don’t be so fucking boring!” Dean clapped him on the back and tried to hand him a suspicious-looking green concoction.
“Not boring, just responsible,” Logan replied, but his eyes were on you when he said it.
He also kept a heavy hand on the small of your back any moment his hand was free. You put on a good act, pretending it didn’t get to you every time his fingers drew small shapes over your top, or whenever his digits slipped beneath the fabric when the boys were too busy laughing, leaving you with a hitched breath and a warm feeling between your legs.
When the other half to your dynamic duo, Kendall, stepped between the two of you and grabbed your hand, spluttering something about dancing to her favorite song, Logan’s grip tightened on you for a moment before he loosened up and plastered a pursed smile on his face.
“As long as you bring her back to me,” he said. Kendall laughed at his joke as she dragged you away. But one look between you and Logan and you knew he wasn’t trying to be funny.
“He’s so down bad for you, it’s hilarious,” Kendall giggled to you with a roll of her eyes. “He needs to lighten up.”
The pair of you danced to an ABBA song, laughing and belting out the lyrics. You closed your eyes and let loose, submitting to the tingle of whatever alcohol remained in your system.
John watched like a hawk. The irony wasn’t lost on him considering his bird costume. You looked so good. He wanted to hold you from behind and make you feel how heavy his—
“Any more staring and she’ll burst into flames.”
Logan snapped out of it and turned to Garrett, who wore a knowing smirk and offered him another can of Sprite.
“Thanks, man,” Logan said gratefully, taking the refill.
Garrett looked at your dancing figure. “Freshmen on the team were asking about her.”
“Yeah? What’d they say?” Logan replied almost absentmindedly, sipping his drink and staring at you.
Garrett sighed. “Rather not say. I’m supposed to be Hannah’s ‘boyfriend’ and all.”
Logan peered at him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his protective instincts start to wake. Garrett noticed and gently bumped their shoulders together.
“Not like that. Wasn’t bad. Just…” Garrett hummed into his red solo cup. “Horny.” He settled on that word.
That was enough.
Logan chugged down whatever was left in the can of soda before making his way over to you. He crossed the room in quick strides, ignoring Kendall’s amused voice when she cooed, “Uh oh, return to sender already?”
Logan took your hand and pulled you away; away from the dance floor, away from the party, and most importantly—away from the lingering gazes so many guys sent your way.
“Logan?” You queried as he brought you up the stairs.
He didn’t respond, just kept tugging you along.
“Logan.”
Nothing.
“Baby—”
He finally stopped and turned to look at you. His stature towered over you and you suddenly felt small with the way he was staring down at your face.
He exhaled a heavy breath. “Fuck, baby, I’m trying really hard to be respectful.”
You cupped his cheek. His skin was hot to the touch. He subconsciously burrowed closer into the palm of your hand.
“You don’t have to be,” you murmured.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “How many drinks have you had?”
“A can and a half of beer,” you answered.
He opened his eyes to make sure you were being honest. You stood unwavering.
“You’re sober?” He asked.
“Mhm.”
“You’re sure?”
“100%. Are you?”
He sighed, turning away. “Yeah. Yeah, I made sure not to…” his words trailed off.
You smiled. “You made sure not to drink too much so we could fuck?”
He looked at you again. “Don’t say it like that.”
You giggled, pushing away a strand of fallen hair from his forehead. “I’m saying it as it is.”
“I made sure not to drink too much to be responsible,” he corrected.
You nodded along, “Oh, yeah. Responsible. My responsible and respectful boyfriend.” You teased. He did not appreciate that.
“Okay,” he let out an amused sound as if he were faced with a challenge. He leaned in and whispered, “Let’s see who’s laughing when I stop respecting you and start doing all the things I plan to do to you.”
You gulped.
+
He led you to the nearest vacant bedroom in the Maxwell family home before pushing you inside and locking the door behind him. You thought he’d pin you against the door and makeout with you.
Instead, he said, “Sit on the bed,” in that husky voice you rarely hear so you knew you had to listen.
You sat down. The covers were soft and cool. You watched and waited for his next words, but Logan was too busy pacing in front of the door and running his hands through his hair. He looked so yummy.
“Take your clothes off. Let me see you.”
You blinked. You weren’t used to Logan being like this. He usually did all the work. But this new side of him was hot, so very hot.
You slowly unzipped your boots and kicked them off along with your socks. Next, your headpiece with the sprinkles. Then, your tube top, revealing your bare breasts, and lastly, your skirt, leaving you in nothing but underwear.
You felt exposed, just sitting there on the bed as Logan stared at you without a word. His eyes were nearly black from how blown out his pupils were, his bottom lip chewed and slightly pink from how much he dragged it beneath his teeth.
“Pretty,” he finally commented. “That’s new.”
You glanced down to where he gestured, looking at the lace thong you wore. He was right; it was new. You and Kendall bought matching ones for the costumes, but you didn’t need to tell him that bit right now.
“Yeah,” you confirmed.
“Was it expensive?” He asked.
“Not…really…”
“Good,” he nodded to himself. He pushed off the wings he wore for his costume and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
He knelt down in front of you and spread your legs apart. “So I can ruin it, right?”
That shot up your spine. Your thighs wanted to rub against one another at his remark, but he held your knees firmly. “Answer.”
You nodded without thinking. “Yes.”
He smiled at your obedience and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll get to that. But for now…” his words died down as his lips attached to yours.
It was all tongue and messy. Logan pinned your wrists to the mattress as he kissed you. He grunted against your lips every time you bit his lip teasingly. Eventually, his kisses trailed downwards. To your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He made sure to give all your sensitive spots an abundance of attention.
Then? His favorite bit. Your tits. John Logan was a tits guy, through and through. Doesn’t matter what size or shape, he was enamored with them.
“Missed my girls,” he murmured before he took one of your breasts into his mouth, swirling his tongue over your pebbled nipple and sucking softly, then switching to the other boob and giving it the same treatment.
Your head tilted back and let out soft sighs. The comfort of him mouthing at your breasts left you aching and squirming on the bed. “Oh, baby…”
He pulled away at your voice and left a sloppy kiss between your tits. He peppered a few more kisses on your abdomen—nipping an especially ticklish spot below your rib—before diving in and licking you over the fabric of your lace thong. You gasped, your hand flying to his hair like second instinct.
He groaned against you, the sound muffled but the vibrations sending sparks to your core. “Already so wet for me. I hardly did anything.”
“Logan, please…”
He kept licking up your slit through your panties. He could feel your juices seep through the delicate material. The friction was doing wonders for your pleasure, but you grew impatient. “Logan…”
He finally pulled your thong to the side and resumed his ministrations with extra fervor. The direct contact had you jumping in your seat, but Logan’s strong arms held your hips down.
He groaned again, pulling away just to mutter, “Fuck, gorgeous, maybe he was right to call you cupcake. You taste so fucking sweet.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his words fully registered in your head. “James?” You asked, breathlessly.
He pulled away and looked at you with a deadpan expression. He crawled up your body until he was face-to-face with you and said, “Please don’t ever say another man’s name when my tongue is inside you.”
That had your hole clenching around nothing.
“Got that?” He asked.
You nodded right away, “Mhm.”
“Words,” he demanded.
“Yes. Got it.” You responded quietly.
“Good,” he murmured before smoothing your hair down and admiring you for a moment. Then, his head was back between your thighs.
“Ah, Logan!” You breathed out, digging your nails into his scalp.
He raised up two fingers to your lips without stopping. You blinked back bleary eyed at that. “Open,” he said.
Immediately, you parted your lips. He shoved his ring and middle fingers inside your mouth and you sucked on them diligently, running your tongue over his calluses earned from hockey and various handyman jobs. Once they were appropriately wet, he pulled his fingers out and into your pussy.
You keeled over with a loud cry, “John!”
He raised his head up, letting his fingers do all the work now. “You like that? Yeah?”
You bobbed your head up and down, unable to find any words left in you from how nicely Logan scissored his fingers inside you, all whilst keeping his thumb on your clit in steady motions.
“Look at you. So pretty and whiny for me,” he murmured, voice smooth as honey. “Letting me wreck you like this and I haven’t even used my cock yet.”
You whimpered, hand gripping onto his bicep. You were sure you’d see nail marks on his skin even tomorrow morning.
“Oh, you like that?” He asked, tilting his head. “You want me to fuck you stupid with my cock?” The pace of his fingers increased.
Your eyes screwed shut. “Yes! Please, I want that.” You tugged him closer so you could bury your face in his neck, feeling so overwhelmed by pleasure.
He let out an airy chuckle. “Such a good girl. Just for that? I’ll reward you.”
He made you cum on his fingers. The heel of his hand applied pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves until you seized and melted against him with a moan.
“Shhh, that’s it. Come down from it, you’re okay,” he kissed the top of your head.
You mumbled incoherent sentences into his neck and he merely smiled and rubbed your back.
After a minute of breathing, he pulled back slightly to look at your face. “You okay?” He asked, pushing a lock of hair away from your face.
You nodded, still buzzing from what had happened. “Yeah,” you exhaled.
He nodded, watching you carefully in the vulnerable afterglow. Your hands trailed down to his jeans, tugging at his belt, silently asking for it to come off.
Logan chuckled softly before helping you remove his belt and jeans. He reached into the pocket then chucked them on the floor and you instantly started palming his eager boner through his boxers.
He hissed, tossing his head back. “Fuck, baby.”
“Please tell me you have a condom,” you said.
He held the small foil up in his fingers.
At that, you rid him of his boxers and watched in tense awe as he teared the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on. You settled back against the bed pillows as you waited in hot anticipation.
“Uh uh,” he wagged his finger before curling it in a come hither gesture.
You sat up, letting out a surprised squeal when he lifted you by your thighs and settled on the bed before placing you above him. Your hands scrambled until they settled on his abs.
He looked up at you with hooded eyes, “Look good for me, gorgeous. I want a show.”
You leaned down and peppered kisses over his face. He let out a relaxed sigh and rubbed up and down your sides lazily. You nibbled on a spot right below his ear, earning you a delicious whimper from him.
“Tease,” he muttered and you grinned.
“Thought you wanted a show,” you remarked.
He hummed, “Mm, yeah. But just for me. No one else.”
You looked down at him, realizing he’s still a bit hung up from the incident earlier that night. Your finger slid sensually from his adam’s apple to his naval. “No one else. Only you.”
“Yeah?” His voice got deeper. “Show me.”
Sir, yes, sir. You held his dick from the base and slowly sank down on him. Logan groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. The stretch of him filling you up was deliriously good. You bit your lip as you took him in, inch by inch.
Finally, you both let out a sigh in unison. You planted your palms flat on his abdomen and started rocking back and forth.
The room succumbed to the sounds of soft moans and the subtle creak from the bed. The party downstairs was long forgotten. Here, it was just you and Logan.
“Just like that, baby, hah,” he breathed out, moving you back and forth. Even if he put you on top, Logan would always end up doing the work for you. You were his pampered princess.
You threw your head back, feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy once again. You took one of Logan’s hands and guided him through rubbing circles on your clit.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?” He asked.
You nodded fervently. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Logan. Keep doing that, baby, I’m so close.”
He held you firmly and started bucking up into you. You cried out, slumping against his chest as he thrusted in and out of you, reaching so deep inside, hitting that spongy part that left you seeing stars.
“Cum for me, baby. I know you can do it,” he said.
The coil snapped and you released, letting out a long moan. Your body shook, the pleasure and adrenaline rushing through you like a live wire meeting water. You collapsed against him, your bones feeling like putty.
He took your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his face. He was still rocking into you. “Need to see you, baby. Need to see your pretty face when I cum.”
You were so out of it, barely processing his words. You simply nodded and chewed on your bottom lip. He looked so hot all sweaty and breathing heavily.
His eyes squeezed shut when he came, letting out a guttural groan. You felt his hips falter as he bucked up into you, rhythm sloppy and erratic. He let out a shuddering breath and dropped his head back onto the pillow.
The room was quiet now. The hum of electrical circuits and the distant noise of the party below filling up the space. You traced shapes onto his ribs, your touch barely skimming his skin. His hands caressed your back slowly, giving a small squeeze every now and then.
“Not jealous anymore?” You murmured, looking at him with an amused smirk.
He scoffed. “I wasn’t jealous.”
You hummed, “Ohhh, okay. Not jealous. Just possessive.”
He rolled his eyes fondly, a smile threatening to tear his lips wide. “Just…want you to be mine. All the time.”
You smiled, “I am.”
“I know you are.”
mr. i get wet at the thought of you being a responsible guy fr
summary your friends dare you to sext a random account on instagram, who so happens to be dean di laurentis, your worst enemy. despite hating the idea of it, you couldn't deny him, not when he's offering more than you're willing to take.
content SMAU, mature content, sexting, praise, use of pet names, cringe, enemies (but it's one sided), desperate dean, reader has an attitude, and likes being called a brat, lots of teasing, dirty talk with a side of humor
a/n this is kinda rusty but i had sm fun writing it so i hope you guys enjoy reading it!!
vibe rators 😈
al 🦭: alright we've come to a decision
you: ... hello to you too
hans 🐢: hi my sweet angel
al 🦭: there's no time for greetings
al 🦭: this is urgent business
you: i'm scared
you: i don't like where this is going
you: what did you do al
al 🦭: actually me AND hans came to this decision
hans 🐢: i'm only a tad bit involved
hans 🐢: it was her plan
al 🦭: you suggested it??
hans 🐢: I DIDNT????
hans 🐢: i said it would be fun
you: i should leave
al 🦭: get back here.
al 🦭: alright so
al 🦭: do you remember the bet you lost at tucker's party?
you: i don't actually
hans 🐢: look at her trying to escape...
you: don't gang up on me 🙁
you: i thought you guys forgot about that
al 🦭: how could we
al 🦭: we finally get the chance to torture our precious pie
you: don't call me that
hans 🐢: LMAOO
al 🦭: as i was saying
al 🦭: me and hannah finally decided what we want you to do
hans 🐢: why am i more nervous than her
hans 🐢: SPIT IT OUT ALREADY
al 🦭: alright man i was building up the suspense
you: how about girls night and i treat you guys to the most delicious toe curling meals of your lives instead of whatever you have planned ☺️☺️
al 🦭: as tempting as that sounds... what we have is More fun
you: Fuck me.
hans 🐢: i'd love to
you: i'm telling your bf
hans 🐢: hey :c
you: al baby can you please just tell me i'm dying to know
al 🦭: Fine...
al 🦭: okay so how does trolling some random guy online and making him think you're really into him and that he can get into your pants sound
hans 🐢: okay now that you phrase it like this it definitely sounds cringe
you: Okay
you: no
you: i'm not doing that
al 🦭: WHY NOT
hans 🐢: it'll be fun hey...
you: are you guys crazy
you: why would i dm a random MAN that i'm into him.
al 🦭: because men suck and they deserve to be humiliated
hans 🐢: oh wow ❤️
hans 🐢: love that!
you: no but seriously why would i do that
you: out of all the things i could've done why THAT
hans 🐢: because you're very anti love so weve decided to spice up your love life
you: sexting a random man online is going to spice up my love life huh
al 🦭: exactly
you: do i ever have a choice here...
hans 🐢: if you don't feel comfortable you don't have to do it bae
you: it's just really embarrassing
you: but it's fine ig
al 🦭: FUCK YEAH
al 🦭: alright wait i'll grab his profile for you
you: scary
hans 🐢: drumroll drumroll
al 🦭:
you: DI LAURENTIS????
hans 🐢: yeah...
you: oh FUCK no
you: we said a random man not fucking dean di laurentis
hans 🐢: AL I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA
hans 🐢: y/n hates him
you: he's the bane of my existence.
you: i'm not doing that
you: nope not even gonna entertain the idea of it
al 🦭: oh come on
al 🦭: THATS WHAT MAKES IT MORE FUN
al 🦭: laugh in his face
hans 🐢: dean is actually very sweet why do you hate him so much
you: he's a manwhore
you: he's fucked every girl on campus
you: + he's a DICK
you: i don't like him
you: on top of the embarrassment i have to shove compliments in his face???!!??
you: as if his ego needs it
hans 🐢: im giggling
hans 🐢: c'mon it's not that bad
hans 🐢: besides you'll be doing it from an anonymous account so he wont know it's you
al 🦭: PLS PLS PLS YN PLS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
you: get that ugly emoji off my screen god
you: i'm never ever ever ever ever everrrrrrrr doing anything like this ever again
you: only once
hans 🐢: ONLY ONCE
al 🦭: YES PLS
you: you guys are a little too excited about this
you: i need to avenge myself
al 🦭: do that later
al 🦭: now go on and text him
hans 🐢: keep us updated :3
you: i hate you both
al 🦭: aw ☺️
al 🦭: luv you too
────────
────────
vibe rators 😈
you: i'm so fucking screwed
────────
a/n AND THATS IT. this took me so long to fucking do and for WHAT also something is messed up in those ig pics but its too late to figure it out rn... all support is appreciated wahhh i hope this doesn't flops or i'll cry and repost tmr 😇😇
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ pet names (captain, baby, pretty + no yn) swearing, brat taming (playfully), possessive!garrett, jealous!garrett, hockey fights + injuries, split lip/blood, praise kink (both), oral (m. receiving), bondage (panties), teasing, begging, unprotected p in v, riding, multiple orgasms, w.a.m., clingy post-sex vibes + a very down bad, needy man
3.3K words
“Shit,” Garrett hisses as he kisses you again, accidentally pulling his split lip back open.
He groans through it anyway.
The sound shudders against your neck while he presses another kiss into your skin—then another, softer this time, shaky around the edges. His weight braces over you, broad chest warm against yours, muscles still tight with leftover adrenaline from the game.
“Fuck me—”
“Garrett,” you murmur with a quiet laugh, reaching up to cup his jaw. “Baby.”
His knuckles are still red and swollen from the fight earlier, but he brushes it off like it’s nothing. “M’fine, pretty.”
“Sure you are,” you whisper.
Your fingers spread slowly across his bare chest, his heartbeat pounding beneath your palm as you nudge him back just enough to make him pause. He finally looks at you.
“Baby,” you murmur softly, fingers brushing through his damp curls. “We can just lay here, okay? You’re exhausted.”
Garrett shakes his head immediately, pulling you closer like you’ve said something insane. “No.”
“Garrett—”
“Need this,” he grinds out against your mouth. “Barely get you alone. Barely get to have you.” His grip tightens at your waist, his stare going heavier on yours. “I need this tonight, baby.”
“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers himself to your lips. His muscles tremble beneath your hands as they wrap around his biceps. You shift underneath him, arching just enough for him to realize something needs to change.
Garrett notices immediately. He wets the split in his lip, eyes narrowing with slow amusement. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Get on your back, Garrett.”
“What?” He laughs softly, still hovering over you like he thinks there’s no chance you’re serious.
“Back. Now.” You try to roll him but he grabs your wrist, pinning you to the mattress.
“You serious right now?” He whispers against your lips, letting out a raspy laugh before hissing when the smile tugs the cut back open.
“Now.”
Garrett lets out a rough breath like he’s too sore for this, shifting onto his back beneath you, broad chest rising and falling harder once you settle over his waist.
A dark bruise shadows the side of his ribs, already blooming beneath tan skin where he got slammed into the boards earlier.
His hands slide to your thighs automatically—big palms squeezing instinctively—but you catch his wrists before he can settle them there.
“Uh-uh.” Your voice comes out softer this time and he cocks an eyebrow at you, loving wherever the hell this is going. “Coach said you have to relax. R e l a x,” you breathe as you guide his arms over his head, fingers tracing over the thick muscle of his forearms until your hands lace together above him.
“I don't wanna relax,” he chuckles.
“I don't care.”
“You’re bossy tonight,” he says with a tilted smile, already breathless.
“Maybe,” you smile down at him like you already knew you’d win this. “But you’re a problem.” Your fingertips drag lightly down the center of his chest. “Not now that I’ve finally got you pinned down for once.”
Garrett lets out a short laugh through his nose, shaking his head against the pillow. “Control? You know how easily I could get it back, baby?” He tilts his head against the pillow to look at you better.
Then your hand reaches across the bed for your pink lace panties—discarded somewhere in the mess—and Garrett clocks what you’re doing about one second too late.
“Wait,” he breathes, eyes narrowing. “Hold on—” His head tips back into the pillow as you loop the lace around the headboard, knotting it around his wrists while he watches with parted lips and a slow swallow working down his throat. “You’re serious.”
“You keep hurting yourself,” you sigh as your thumb brushes carefully near the cut in his lip. “You don’t listen. All you do is fight.” You lean closer, softer now. “So now you don’t get to be in charge for a little while. Baby, you're stuck—”
“It’s a pair of pink panties.”
“And yet,” you murmur softly, tightening your grip around his wrists for a second, “look how good you’re behaving for me.”
He sucks his teeth and chuckles at that. “Behaving?” He scoffs. “Behaving. I've been getting chirped about you all night and I snapped once after he slashed me. He threw the first punch. Ten minute major. Now you’ve got me tied up in a thong. What more do you want from me?”
“Maybe I just wanted you to sit still long enough for me to take care of you,” you whisper, your mouth brushing over his. “Thank you like I’ve wanted to since you stepped into the penalty box. Does that sound so bad?”
He lets out a deep breath, nodding like that’s exactly what he needed to hear.
Your body dips lower, back arching as your ass lifts slightly while your lips trace his ear. “Maybe, I wanted to tie you up, and make you my bitch.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, a dark laugh breaking past his lips as he turns his head, burying himself in your neck. “M’not your fuckin’ bitch, alright?”
“You’re not?” You soften your voice and his whole body loosens beneath you.
“…Fine.”
“Fine what, baby?” You ask as your gaze meets his again, his eyes falling to your lips as you smile.
“I’m your bitch,” he says under his breath, intentionally quiet enough to piss you off.
Your mouth falls open dramatically, hand pressing against his abs, moving lower making his breathing catch. “Well, that wasn’t very convincing, baby.”
Garrett laughs again, deeper this time, turning his head like he’s embarrassed by how easy he is for you, a blush creeping across his cheeks.
“I’m your bitch, baby,” he repeats a little louder now, brown eyes sliding back to yours. “Happy?”
“Very.”
“God,” he huffs, smiling despite himself. “You like fuckin’ with me, don't you?”
“More like love, but yeah,” you tease, leaning down, lips pressing against his neck, shifting lower, soft lips trailing over his stomach, tongue teasing his v-line before your mouth dips lower, nuzzling between his thighs.
His stomach tightens instantly, thighs flexing as he lifts his head, getting a better look.
“Fuck,” he breathes when your tongue flicks over his balls, warm and slow. His thighs tighten when you take one into your mouth, then the other, stroking his thick cock with your hand while you suck softly. “Damn, baby,” he moans, head falling back against the pillow. “Gonna make me lose it.”
“How many times?” You ask sweetly, breath fanning over his spit-slick dick, feeling him twitch in your grip. You glance up at him through your lashes, looking way too innocent for your words.
“So what?” He murmurs. “You gonna tie me up and just—use me?”
“Mhmm,” you hum around him, the sound making his abs tighten again. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”
Garrett swears softly under his breath as you crawl back up his body slowly, your fingertips skimming over the sculpted ridges of his abs, higher over his chest, nails scratching lightly, his gold chain flickering in the low light when he sucks in a breath.
His hands twitch against the lace when your wet pussy settles over his length again, grinding down slow, your breasts pressed against his broad chest.
“You’re so fucking hot, Garrett,” you murmur against his lips, but the smile slips through anyway.
“You have no clue how good you look on top of me,” he mutters, his voice already rough, even though the corner of his mouth still curls smugly. “You gotta stop teasing me.”
Your eyes trace the line of his jaw, the bruise blooming dark beneath his cheekbone, the split in his lip still angry red. His dark curls fall onto his forehead, half brushed-back from running his hands through them, wet with sweat again.
“All fucked up and still the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” you murmur, thumb brushing lightly near the cut. “You’re unbelievable.”
Garrett lets out a low sound at that, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.
“Unbelievable, huh?” His voice drops rough around the edges.
“So fucking greedy, Graham.”
His brows pinch immediately. “Graham?” He scoffs, finally lifting his head enough to look at you properly. “Garrett’s for you. The fuck are you callin’ me Graham?”
You just smile wider—a slow little smile. Underneath all the cockiness, Garrett loves this—the way you toy with him when you get bold enough to take control.
Your fingers drift lazily through his hair while you stay settled over his lap, watching him try and fail to keep that smug look on his face.
“Talk to me nice,” he mutters, low and warning, even though his hands are tied above his head and he’s already losing this fight. “Talk to me like you love me.”
You bite back a smile, grinding your hips on top. “Captain’s havin’ a hard night, huh?”
“Holy shit,” Garrett drags out the words like they physically pain him. His head falls back, wrists pulling taut against the lace.
“Just take it,” you breathe, mouth brushing close enough to his that he can feel the smile there. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“Don’t,” he grunts immediately, the word coming out stern and final even while his wrists tug uselessly against the lace above his head.
Garrett tests the restraints again anyway, muscles tightening beneath you, but you shove playfully at his chest before he can get too cocky about it.
“C’mon now,” he mutters, eyes glinting up at you while his tongue drags across the cut in his lip, soothing the sting. “You’re not my coach. You’re not one of the guys.” His gaze lifts to yours again, darker now, quieter. “You’re my girl.”
“I am,” you hum, moving a little closer to his lips.
“And…” he adds lower, lashes dipping for half a second before meeting your eyes again, “Garrett sounds better when you say it.”
“Yeah?” You tease softly, fingers sliding around his neck, through the damp curls at the back.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Love when you say my name—” His words cut off when your hand traces lower, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking slowly. “‘Specially when you're proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, Garrett,” you praise and he takes the compliment like air. He moans when your thumb brushes over his thick tip of his dick, his brows furrowing while his lips part. “Easy, Garrett,” you murmur. “You’re getting a little needy for me.”
“A little?” He laughs softly, breath catching when your thumb brushes the tip again. “You’re pushin’ it—me. All of it.”
“The offer to stop was there—”
“Baby, I’m injured,” he complains softly. “Feels kinda fucked up not to let me cum.”
“I don't think you're ready,” you whisper as you reach down, thumb brushing along his chin where a little blood smudged. He parts his lips, eyes locked on yours as he sucks it clean. “I could get outta here if I wanted, you know. Lucky I’m playin’ nice.”
“So am I. You’re enjoying this, baby. Stop trying to play tough with pink panties around your wrists. I know you love it.”
He laughs softly under his breath at that, teeth catching briefly on the split in his lip. He watches you for a second like he can’t decide whether he wants to argue with you or watch.
“You done talkin’,” he asks hoarsely, voice rough and low, “or are you gonna keep torturing me for fun?”
You giggle against his skin. “So my panties around your wrists and my hand around your dick is—”
“One of my favorite things you’ve done, yes.”
“It was torture a second ago,” you counter with faux concern.
The tip of his cock drips precum, sliding in a lazy tear over your knuckles. “Fuck you.” He chuckles.
“You’d like that,” you grin as you lift your hand, licking his mess off the back. “Look at how relaxed you are.”
“You’re actually gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he laughs under his breath.
You move between his legs, smirk dying on your lips as your mouth parts, that dangerous look still burning in your eyes as you lick a slow line up the underside of his cock, following a vein, watching his biceps flex as he tests the panties holding him in place.
“Standing down by the glass,” he says, breath hitching as you swirl your tongue over the tip. “Playing against your ex.”
“Mhmm,” you whisper.
“You know how much shit I took. Three periods of reminding me all about his favorite things about my girl. And, I couldn't say shit. Couldn't even tell Coach why I went in the box in the first place.”
You run a line of spit down to his throbbing head as you stroke and he shivers, feeling it roll down the slit, gliding down the side.
“Been keeping this a secret for six months. Think I deserve something—Fuuuck.” His head slams back into the pillow when he finally gets it. “Yeah… that’s it, baby.”
Your lips stretch around his cock, eyes flicking up to watch his reaction. Garrett’s lashes flutter shut, mouth falling open, chest lifting as you sink down again. You moan around him, the sound making him shudder.
“So fuckin’ good,” he pants.
You wrap one hand around the base, slick with spit, and stroke as your mouth works the head, dragging your tongue along the ridge. He groans again—deep and filthy—his fists clenching above his head.
“Shit. Shit—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he grits through his teeth, muscles locking under you. “Gonna cum in that pretty mouth—”
His whole body coils tight as you suck, slurping, gagging, throating his length as he fights back his pleasure.
A loud moan breaks past his lips, filling the room. He hisses out a breath as he feels the sharp sting, bottom lip trembling. “God, damn—just… You’re…” His voice cuts off, too far gone to finish, filthy-wet between your lips and the thick length of him—too much for you to take, but you’re trying anyway.
Garrett pitches his hips, meeting you stroke for stroke, eyes squeezed shut as his thigh muscles tremble.
“Fuck me,” he whines, your name whispering past his lips as he empties into your throat, cock throbbing while his voice breaks into a sobbing, pathetic laugh. “Shittt—oh my god—fuck—” He chokes on his words, hands twisting into fists above him.
You pull off him slow, kissing his swollen, pulsing tip. He throws his head to the side, pressing his mouth to his bicep, shuttering out a pathetic breath when you kitten-lick his cock; body jumping with each cruel flick.
“Pussy,” his voice comes out slurred. “Give it to me—fuckin’ need it, alright?”
You bite your lip, holding back a smile as you crawl up over him—tits brushing his chest, his face flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving—you wrap your hand around him again, pumping slow as you guide him toward you.
He’s still recovering when you line him up, circling your hips just enough to tease the head against your slick folds.
“So good,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Oh my fucking god, baby—” You slide down on him, hands pressing against his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath until you're fully sat.
“Fuck, Garrett,” you breathe as you drag your hips. His eyes lock on the wet place where you connect, lips parted like he's trying to think of something to say, but the thought dies there instead.
He tugs at the panties roughly, brows furrowing, lips snarling as he forgot for a second he was tied up. You lean forward over him slowly, chest brushing his as you lower yourself toward his mouth, smiling when his breath catches.
“Can’t even slap your fuckin’ ass—” CRACK! Your hand smacks against your own skin, cutting off his complaint, and he groans beneath you like he's getting some sick secondhand pleasure from it.
“Bounce for me,” he rasps, lips vibrating against yours. You push yourself upright again, hands slapping against the metal rail above his head, and his eyes snap back.
Your pussy swallows up the length of him, hands braced on the bed frame between his—like you own the room. Like you own him. “So fucking perfect for me—”
He curses loudly as he throws his hips up to meet you, making the whole damn bed creak.
Heat coils low in your stomach, your thighs starting to shake around him. “Yes, baby—cum like this. Use me, c’mon,” he pants. Your pussy pulses with your heartbeat, wild and quick, fluttering around him as you cum; Garrett thrusting up into you so deep your vision blurs.
“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he grits out, the tone of his voice proud like he knows you won't. His mouth falls open, his eyes rolling back, the muscles in his chest tight as his fists lock. “I’m cumming, shit.” The look on his face and the deep, fucked-out sound of his voice make you shatter above him.
Your head’s pounding so loud, ears ringing so high you can't hear the praise leaving his lips, but you know it's there.
He fights the restraints—the lace tearing slightly.
You smile as you start to grind again, nice and slow, swirling your hips, slick dripping down his big cock, making him suck his teeth.
Garrett’s still twitching underneath you when you finally slow down enough to breathe, his lungs still working hard beneath yours. The lace strains again when he flexes his wrists, biceps swelling, his whole body slick with sweat.
“That was perfect, baby,” he says, still breathless. You laugh softly, brushing damp curls off his forehead. You lean down, kissing his cheek over the bruise, soft and careful.
“You okay?” You ask, assessing the damage.
“M’fine, baby,” Garrett answers immediately, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at you. “And honestly? Worth it.”
“Garrett.”
“What?” A lazy grin tugs at his mouth before he winces at the split lip.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Guy spent three periods talking about you like he was gonna be the one here after all this.”
“He’s an idiot,” you whisper.
His eyes flick away for a second before landing back on yours. “Kept acting like he knew you better than me.”
“Baby—”
“I know,” he says quickly. “Just pissed me off.”
“He doesn’t know me better than you.”
Garrett stares up at you for a second. “Finish junior year. One more season,” he murmurs, “and it will be you and me.”
“You’ve really thought this through, huh?” You ask, cheeks burning with your smile, finger tracing absentmindedly on his bare chest.
“Been in love with you for months, baby. Had time,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, pulling back just out of reach from where he's still bound, chasing it before he lets out a little growl of a breath.
“I love you too,” you coo, and he huffs, rolling his eyes away. Your hand comes up, grabbing his cheeks between them, squeezing just enough to pout his lips. “If I untie you,” you tease softly, “are you gonna behave?”
He takes a moment to think it over. “Probably not.”
“Garrett.”
“What?” He says, a chuckle catching in his throat, eyes warm now. You glance up toward the headboard, finally noticing the pink lace stretched tight between his wrists, strained enough now that you realize that Garrett Graham is only still there because he’s letting himself be. “Kinda getting used to it—”
“You know what?” You murmur, brushing your hands over his chest, fingers straightening his chain on his throat. “You’re right.” Garrett lifts an eyebrow as you speak. “This is exactly where you should be.”
Garrett’s eyes flick toward the stretched lace for half a second before landing back on yours. That cocky, hockey-boy smile spreads on his lips. “Why are you like this, huh?” He asks quietly.
“You’ve been behaving so well for me.”
“You done playin’ coach now?” He asks.
You open your mouth to answer him, but Garrett suddenly plants his feet into the mattress beneath you, muscles tightening hard underneath your hands— SNAP.
🎀💕 taglist on my pinned post 🏒 @rafesthroatbaby @liss2709-blog @sushi-girl04 @judesgfirl @cdiaz18 @fiercetigerpoison @obsessedwrafe @vanillaiceyhot @maialopez23 @rexit-mo @georgiastars13 @princessaaa13
pairing: garrett graham x fem!reader (x moc)
synopsis: naked. frustrated. still under the shower spray. garrett graham’s team has just lost the last game when the football captain’s girl shows up to rub salt in the wound. should he just ignore her or show her who the real loser is?
words: 3k+
disclaimer: english is not my first language!
warnings: teasing, CHEATING (reader cheats on boyfriend). no use of y/n or physical description, but garrett picks her/you up. the picture is only for aesthetic purposes. S M U T!! dom!garrett, cocky!garrett, p in v (unprotected), oral (mostly f receiving), he spits, she swallows (multiple times baby!!). third person! dirty talk. caught in the act. shower sex. “hate” fucking. not proofread! be nice!!
chye's corner: this is only one of 5 drafts that i still have on my off campus boys. let me know if you want me to post all of these, i’m having a blasttttt. pls consider a reblog, a like, or a comment! thank you for choosing to read my words (((:
chye's grimoire (masterlist)
requests are open!
The locker room was thick with steam and silence, the kind that pressed down after a brutal loss. Garrett Graham stood under the spray of the far showerhead, hot water pounding against his shoulders and back like it could wash away the scoreboard that still burned in his mind. 3-5. His team had fought hard, but not hard enough. Logan had scored twice, and Tucker had gone to the penalty box for fighting another player, but none of their efforts seemed to pay off.
His muscles were knotted with frustration, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Water sluiced down his broad chest, over the ridges of his abs, tracing the V that disappeared beneath the towel he’d discarded on the bench before stepping in. He braced one forearm against the tiled wall, head bowed, letting the heat beat into him as steam curled around his naked body.
“Well, that sucked,” a feminine voice made him jump. He had heard someone walk in, but he just assumed it was one of his teammates. He turned his face to look at the woman who entered his private sulking session and his expression turned annoyed. “Rough night out there, Graham?”
There she was, his little vixen. The football captain’s girlfriend, standing just inside the shower area in nothing but an oversized football jersey that barely reached mid-thigh. The rival team’s colors. Her hair was loose, and the way the damp air made the thin fabric cling to her curves left very little to the imagination. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed under her breasts, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. She didn’t seem bothered at all that Garrett was naked just a few feet from her and her gaze never strayed downward.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he answered, voice low and rough from the game and the lingering adrenaline. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t. He was still facing the wall, his body already reacting to the sight of her, blood slowly heading south despite the frustration still coiled tight in his chest.
She shrugged, stepping inside the showers, water now dotting her bare legs. “The entire school is celebrating our football team winning tonight. Figured someone should come check on the sore loser.” Her eyes finally dragged down his body, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his abs flexed with each controlled breath, the little dimple on his chiseled stomach, and she peeked just enough to have a glance of the growing hardness he made no real attempt to hide. “Tough break out there tonight, Graham. All that sweat and still couldn’t seal the deal.”
Garrett’s hand flexed against the tile. “You really came all the way down here just to run your mouth?”
“Maybe,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “That game was painful to watch. You guys had the lead twice and still choked. What happened? Couldn’t handle the pressure?”
He let out a sharp breath, water pounding against his chest. “We played hard. Shit happens. Doesn’t mean you need to be in here gloating while I’m trying to wash it off.”
“Gloating? I’m just being honest,” she teased, crossing her arms. “You looked so pissed on the ice. Does losing always get you this worked up?”
Garrett’s eyes narrowed, tension still radiating through his shoulders as the water continued to beat down on his bare skin. “You’re wearing his jersey and walking into my locker room. You sure you want to keep poking me right now?”
She smiled, unbothered. “Why not? It’s fun watching you try to act like you’re not bothered. Tell me, Graham… what did you say to him two days ago? That you were going to enjoy seeing him lose? How does it feel now, mh?”
Garrett let out a low chuckle, tilting his head back under the spray so water ran down his face and neck. “I gotta admit, doesn’t feel like a million bucks, but you know what feels better?” He wiped water from his eyes and looked straight at her. “The fact that you’re standing here in my locker room, staring at me naked in the shower, instead of being with your boyfriend right now.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Bold. Maybe I just wanted to see the loser up close.”
“Bullshit,” Garrett shot back, his voice rough as more water cascaded over his broad chest, now fully turning towards her. He was towering over her frame and she couldn’t help but look down at his v-line. “If you wanted to be with him, you’d be at whatever victory party he’s throwing. But you’re not. You’re here. With me.” She shifted her weight. “Why aren’t you there trying to make him feel like a big man after his win? Youu snuck down here to fuck with me. Makes me wonder who you really want to be around tonight.”
Her smile grew bitter. “Careful, Graham. You sound a little jealous for someone who just got his ass handed to him on the ice.”
Garrett’s eyes darkened as he stood there, completely bare under the relentless hot spray. “Not jealous. Just observant. You’re choosing to be here with the loser instead of the winner. Says a lot more about you than it does about me.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back as water continued to pour over every inch of his muscular frame. “So keep talking your shit if you want… but we both know why you really came down here.”
She tilted her head, a challenging smile playing on her lips. “You’re just mad I’m not stroking your ego after that pathetic loss. You have your puck bunnies for that.”
Garrett’s eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and heat. He wiped water from his face, the motion making his biceps flex under the spray. “Mad? You have no clue of how I really am when I get mad.”
She crossed her arms, the oversized jersey riding up her thighs, showing off her little shorts. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm. It’s entertaining.”
“Entertaining,” Garrett repeated, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He took a half-step forward. “Or maybe your captain doesn’t quite do it for you anymore. What? He doesn’t know how to fuck you good?”
The words hung heavy in the steamy air. A charged silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken desire. Her smirk faltered for a split second. “That’s none of your business,” she shot back, but her tone had shifted, breathier now.
“Bullshit,” Garrett said, jaw tight. “He doesn’t do it for you anymore, right? Or you wouldn’t be staring like that while I’m standing here naked. You’re not here to gloat about his win. You’re here because he leaves you wanting.”
She swallowed, her gaze flicking over his bare form before returning to his face. “You don’t know anything about us,” she said quietly.
“I know you’re not with him right now,” Garrett countered, his shoulders still rigid under the spray. “Isn’t that enough?” He finally stepped out from directly under the main spray, water dripping heavily from his broad shoulders, chest, and abs as he slowly closed the distance between them. Steam clung to his skin while his eyes stayed locked on hers, tension rolling off him in waves.
She watched him approach but didn’t back away. He lifted a hand, brushing a wet finger along her jaw. “If I kissed you here…” He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of her neck, slow and deliberate, his mouth warm against her skin. She inhaled sharply. “… you wouldn’t like that?”
Her breath hitched. “Graham…”
“Or here?” He kissed her bare shoulder next, lingering longer this time, teeth grazing lightly before he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Water continued dripping down his naked torso between them. “You wouldn’t like that either?”
She swallowed, her pulse visible in her throat. “You’re really pushing it tonight.”
“Am I?” He stayed close, towering over her, his wet chest nearly brushing the front of her jersey. “Or am I just saying what we’re both thinking? Your boyfriend’s probably out there basking in his victory, and you’re letting me kiss your neck in a locker room shower. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re an asshole,” she whispered, but there was no real heat behind it.
Garrett smirked, dark and tense. “Maybe. But I’m the asshole you came to see.” He dipped his head again, this time kissing the hollow just below her ear. “If I touched you right now… if I slipped my hand under that jersey… you’d still tell me to stop?”
Her fingers curled at her sides. “You lost tonight. You’re supposed to be pissed off and sulking, not… this.”
“I am pissed off,” he admitted, voice rough as he hovered close, naked and dripping. “But I’d rather take that frustration out on someone who actually wants it. Someone who walked in here knowing exactly what she was doing.”
He brushed his lips against her neck once more. “So go ahead. Tell me to stop. Tell me you’d rather be with him right now.”
She exhaled sharply but refused to melt. Instead, she gripped his shoulder and dug her nails in. “You’re really stroking your own ego tonight, Graham. Do you suddenly think you can compete with him?”
“I don’t have to compete,” he said, voice low and rough as he hovered close, breath warm on her damp skin. “You’re already choosing to be here.”
She gave his chest a firm shove, though he barely moved. “Choosing to watch you sulk in the shower is not the same as wanting you. It’s satisfying to see you all worked up and defeated.”
Garrett’s lips curved into a dark smirk. He caught her wrist, holding it against his chest. “Defeated? Funny. You’re breathing harder every time I touch you.” He kissed her neck again, slower this time, letting his teeth scrape lightly. “Tell me this doesn’t feel better than whatever safe, boring shit he gives you.”
Her free hand came up, threading into his wet hair and tugging his head back just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re so desperate to feel superior. It’s almost sad.” Her voice dropped, sharp and taunting. “Keep kissing me all you want. It won’t change that I go home to him, not you.”
Garrett’s eyes burned with frustration and heat. He stayed close, water from his body soaking into the front of her jersey. “Then why the hell are you still standing here letting me? Why aren’t you walking out that door right now?”
The hot water continued running in the background, steam curling through the locker room as Garrett slowly sank to his knees in front of her. His hands guided her hips backward until her back pressed against the cool tiled wall, putting her just under the shower’s stream. Water dripped steadily from his naked body onto the floor and her legs as he looked up at her, jaw still tight with leftover tension.
She glanced down at him, trying to keep her expression steady. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Garrett’s hands rested on her thighs, thumbs brushing lightly under the hem of the jersey. “You keep acting like you’re here by accident,” he murmured, voice low. “But we both know better.”
She threaded her fingers through his wet hair, giving it a small tug. “Are you trying to prove something?”
He leaned in and kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, then glanced back up. “I told you, I’m just curious why you’re still here instead of with him.” His breath was warm against her skin. “If everything was perfect over there, you wouldn’t have walked into this locker room.”
Her back arched slightly against the wall as she fought a shiver. “You think too much of yourself, Graham.”
Garrett’s grip on her hips tightened gently, holding her in place. “And yet you’re letting me do this,” he said softly, pressing another kiss higher up her thigh. “You could’ve left ages ago, baby.”
She exhaled slowly, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “Don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t change anything.”
He looked up at her through damp lashes, eyes dark. “Then tell me to stop,” he whispered against her skin. “Tell me you’d rather be anywhere else.”
She didn’t answer right away, the silence stretching between them, thick with everything unsaid. Her grip in his hair tightened just a fraction. “You’re making this complicated,” she finally said, voice quieter than before.
Garrett stayed on his knees, water still dripping from his shoulders. “You’re the one who came here.”
She pushed his head away from between her tights and Garrett let out a sigh that almost sounded like a defeated whine. His second loss of the night. Somehow this one stung more. Except that, without a word, she reached under the long jersey, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, and slowly slid them down her legs. They pooled at her ankles, and she stepped out of them, leaving herself with just a pair of black lace panties beneath the oversized football jersey.
Garrett’s gaze followed the movement, his breath catching for a moment. He looked up at her as he let a small smile peak through. He inhaled her scent. “You’re making it harder to believe you don’t want this,” he murmured against her skin.
She leaned back against the tiled wall, her grip in his hair tightening slightly but not pulling him away. “You talk too much for someone who’s supposed to be licking his wounds.”
He smiled faintly against her inner thigh, then kissed her again, lingering longer, his mouth moving with deliberate patience. “Maybe I’m more interested in yours right now.” Another slow kiss, higher still. “You took those off pretty easily.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop him. “Don’t read too much into it,” she said, voice quieter, almost unsteady.
Garrett’s hands slid up the backs of her thighs, gently guiding her legs a little farther apart as he continued kissing her, his mouth teasing closer to where she was now exposed. She closed her eyes for a second, exhaling shakily as his mouth moved against her. “You’re impossible tonight, Graham.”
He looked up at her with dark eyes as he finally leaned in, pressing his mouth against the thin fabric. “Fuck… you’re already soaked through these,” Garrett murmured, voice low and rough. He dragged his tongue slowly over the lace, tasting her through the material. “And you want me to believe you came down here just to tease me?”
She gasped softly. Her fingers tightened in his wet hair, but she didn’t pull him away.
Garrett groaned against her, the sound vibrating through the lace as he licked her again, firmer this time, circling her clit over the fabric. “Look at you… Your boyfriend knows you get this wet for me?”
“Garrett…” she breathed, trying to keep her voice steady.
His back shivered at the sound of his name. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her up more as he pressed his mouth harder against her panties. His tongue worked the soaked lace with slow, deliberate strokes, sucking gently on her through the fabric. “Does he know how to eat this pretty pussy or does leave you aching for someone who actually knows what he’s doing?” He dragged his tongue up and down her covered slit, savoring the way the fabric clung to her.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her soaked black lace panties and slowly dragged them down her thighs, giving her plenty of time to stop him.
She didn’t.
He pulled the ruined lace all the way off, tossing it aside onto the wet tile floor. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her completely bare now, glistening and exposed right in front of his face.
Without another word, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue slowly up her bare pussy, enjoying the taste of her with nothing in between. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he licked her again, deeper this time, parting her folds with long strokes. She gasped sharply, her hips twitched forward forcing him to hold her upright.
Garrett looked up at her, lips shiny. “There it is,” he murmured, voice low and thick. He flicked his tongue over her swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth. “So fucking wet for the guy who lost tonight.”
He buried his face deeper between her thighs, eating her out with deliberate hunger. His tongue circled her clit, then dipped down to tease her entrance, lapping at her with wet, obscene sounds that echoed softly off the tiles.
“You taste even better like this,” he groaned against her, the vibration making her moan. “I think you’re the desperate one here.” He sucked her clit again, harder, before pulling back just enough to speak. “Is this what you’ve been missing?”
She whimpered, one leg trembling slightly over his shoulder as he dove back in, licking and sucking with focused intensity. Garrett’s hands gripped her hips, holding her firmly against the wall while his mouth worked her relentlessly, refusing to give her any space to think.
“Garrett…” she breathed, voice breaking.
He hummed against her pussy, clearly enjoying the way she was falling apart. “That’s right. Say my name while I’m down here tasting what’s not his.” He gripped her hips tighter and dove back in, licking slow strokes up her bare pussy before focusing on her clit with hungry circles. Her moans grew louder.
Garrett groaned against her, the sound deliciously filthy. “So fucking sweet,” he muttered, then slid two thick fingers slowly into her tight heat. He curled them instantly, stroking that sensitive spot inside her while his tongue kept working her clit with relentless pressure.
“Oh my god…” she gasped, her thighs starting to tremble around his shoulders.
He pumped his fingers deeper, matching the pace of his tongue as he sucked her clit into his mouth. The obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the steamy locker room. Water dripped from his hair and shoulders as he devoured her, completely focused on pulling more desperate noises from her throat.
“That’s it,” he growled against her pussy, voice muffled. “Fuck my fingers while I eat you. Your boyfriend ever make you this fucking sloppy?”
She couldn’t answer, only a broken moan escaped as her hips started rolling against his face. Garrett added a third finger, stretching her as he sucked harder on her swollen clit, his tongue flicking fast. Her breathing grew ragged, thighs clamping tighter around his head. “Garrett… fuck, I’m…” her mouth opened into a silent scream.
He didn’t stop. If anything, he grew more aggressive, fingers thrusting deeper while his mouth worked her clit with perfect, relentless suction. He groaned loudly against her, clearly loving the way she was falling apart.
Her orgasm hit hard. She cried out, back arching off the wall as her pussy clenched tightly around his fingers. Her hips bucked against his face, thighs shaking uncontrollably as she came undone. Garrett kept his mouth on her through every wave, licking and sucking greedily, letting her ride it out on his tongue and fingers while she soaked his chin and lips.
He stayed there until her trembling slowed, placing one last slow, possessive lick along her sensitive folds before finally pulling back slightly. His face was shiny with her release, eyes dark with satisfaction as he looked up at her.
“Fucking hell, you’re… that was beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough, still on his knees between her legs.
The hot water continued to pour down as Garrett rose slowly, water streaming down his naked, muscular body. His cock was hard and heavy, curving up against his abs. Without a word, he gripped her thighs, lifted her effortlessly, and pinned her back against the slick tiled wall.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He held her there, the head of his cock brushing against her soaked entrance as steam curled around them. Garrett looked directly into her eyes, breathing hard. “I’m not going to kiss you,” he said, voice low and rough, “but can I fuck you?”
She exhaled shakily, nodding. “Please.”
That was all he needed.
He gripped her ass with both hands and thrust up into her in one smooth stroke, burying himself to the hilt. She moaned loudly at the sudden stretch, her nails digging into his shoulders as her pussy clenched tightly around his thick cock.
“Fuck,” Garrett groaned, holding her pinned to the wall as he started moving. He fucked her with slow strokes, pulling out almost all the way before driving back in deep.
He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, the wet sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the locker room. Water from the shower rained down over their joined bodies, making her jersey cling transparently to her breasts, her hard nipples clearly visible through the fabric.
“You’re a vision,” he growled, eyes dark as he watched the football jersey ride up around her waist while he fucked her. “Getting railed by the losing hockey player while you’ve still got your boyfriend’s name across your chest.” He slammed into her deeper, grinding his hips against hers on every thrust. “Does that turn you on? Getting fucked in his colors?”
She moaned and nodded unconsciously, her head falling back against the tile as he drove into her again and again, his cock hitting deep with every stroke.
Garrett leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear. “You came so hard on my tongue and now you’re letting me stretch this pussy while you’re dressed like his property.” He thrust harder, almost punishing. “Bet he doesn’t fuck you like this. Bet he doesn’t make you shake the way you’re shaking right now.”
He adjusted his grip on her ass, spreading her wider as he pounded into her, the force of his thrusts making her breasts bounce under the soaked jersey.
“Say it,” he demanded between heavy breaths, still refusing to kiss her mouth. “Tell me whose cock feels better.” His hips snapped forward relentlessly, fucking her rough against the wall as water continued to cascade over their heated bodies. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with the sound of the running shower as he held her pinned against the wall, her legs locked around his waist.
He suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep inside her instead, eyes locked on her parted lips. Without warning, he gripped her jaw firmly with one hand, tilting her face up toward his.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice dark and rough. She obeyed, lips parting. Garrett leaned in and spat directly into her open mouth, a thick string of saliva landing on her tongue. “Swallow,” he growled, watching her closely as he started fucking her hard again.
She moaned, swallowing his spit as he drove his cock even deeper. Garrett’s eyes flashed with satisfaction.
“That’s it,” he rasped, slamming into her again. “Such a dirty little slut for me tonight.” He picked up speed, fucking her relentlessly against the tiles, the force of his thrusts making her whole body jolt. Her hard nipples were rubbing against the wet fabric with every movement.
Her moans grew louder and more desperate, echoing off the tiled walls as she lost control. “Fuck, Garrett!” she cried out, voice breaking into shameless moans. “Oh my god, right there baby. Right there.”
“Yeah? You like that?” he growled, her eyes rolling back as he pounded into her.
Just then, the locker room door creaked open unexpectedly for the second time that evening. “Garrett? You in here, man? I know you’re pissed about the game, just wanted to check…” Logan stopped dead in his tracks.
From his angle, he could only see Garrett’s bare ass flexing as he thrust powerfully between a pair of legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The girl’s moans were unmistakable, loud and filthy, her ankles locked behind Garrett’s back as he fucked her against the shower wall.
Garrett turned his head slightly, still buried deep inside her, and let out a low, breathless laugh. “Shit… bad timing, bro,” he said, not stopping the deep rolls of his hips. She tried to muffle her moan against his shoulder but failed miserably.
Logan stood frozen for a second before averting his eyes. “Uh… yeah. I’ll… catch you later.”
Garrett grinned, still holding her up as he gave one particularly hard thrust that made her cry out again. “I’ll tell you about it back at the house,” he called out, voice casual despite how hard he was fucking her. “Just give me a bit.”
Logan muttered something and quickly backed out, the door shutting behind him.
Garrett chuckled darkly, turning his full attention back to her as resumed his relentless pace.
She glared at him, breathless and flushed. “You are not telling him about this,” she snapped, voice sharp even as she moaned again when he drove into her. “Don’t you dare, umphf”
Garrett cut her off instantly. He grabbed her jaw roughly with one hand, forcing her mouth open as he leaned in and spat directly onto her tongue again, thick and deliberate. “Swallow,” he ordered, voice low and commanding. “And shut that pretty mouth up before you ruin the mood.”
She moaned indignantly but swallowed his spit, her pussy clenching hard around his cock. Garrett smirked and immediately dropped his hand between them, finding her swollen clit with his thumb. He started rubbing firm circles over it while continuing to fuck her with long, powerful strokes.
“That’s better,” he growled, watching her face contort with pleasure. “Getting mad at me while you’re creaming all over my dick. So. Fucking. Cute.” A word for each thrust.
Her moans turned frantic as he worked her clit faster, never slowing the deep thrusts of his cock. The combination was too much: his thick length stretching her, his thumb rubbing her relentlessly, and the filthy taste of him still on her tongue.“Garrett, holy fucking shit”
“Come,” he demanded, spitting into her open mouth one last time as he pounded into her. “Come on my cock while you’re still wearing his jersey.”
Her orgasm crashed over her violently. She cried out loudly, body shaking as her pussy spasmed hard around him. Her legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders as she came, soaking his cock and thighs. Garrett kept rubbing her clit through every wave, drawing it out until she was whimpering and trembling against him.
Garrett groaned deeply as her pussy pulsed around his cock, her walls squeezing him rhythmically. He kept thrusting through it, slower but still deep, savoring the way she fluttered and soaked him. His own breathing was ragged now, muscles tight with building pressure.
“Fuck… I’m close,” he rasped against her ear, voice strained. “So fucking close.”
He gave her a few more powerful thrusts before suddenly pulling out of her with a wet sound. He set her down on shaky legs, his cock glistening with her release and throbbing hard against his abs.
Before he could say anything, she dropped to her knees in front of him on the wet tile floor, water from the shower cascading over her shoulders and the soaked football jersey. She looked up at him with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, then wrapped her hand around his slick cock and guided it straight to her mouth.
Garrett let out a rough moan as her lips parted and she took him in eagerly, sucking him deep without hesitation.
“Shit,” He threaded his fingers through her wet hair, hips jerking forward. “That’s it… good girl. You didn’t even need me to ask.”
She moaned around his cock, the vibration traveling straight through him as she bobbed her head, taking him as deep as she could. Her tongue swirled around the head on every upstroke, tasting herself on him. Garrett’s abs flexed, his grip tightening in her hair as he fought to hold back.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, voice rough and strained. He pushed deep into her mouth one last time and held her there as he came hard. Thick ropes of cum spilled across her tongue, filling her mouth with pulse after heavy pulse. He groaned loudly, hips twitching as he emptied himself completely, watching her take every drop.
When he finally pulled out, a thin string of saliva and cum connected her lips to the head of his cock. She swallowed visibly, breathing hard.
Garrett looked down at her with a satisfied, almost cocky smirk. He reached down and gently patted her cheek twice, then cupped her face with one hand, thumb brushing over her swollen lips. “Good fucking girl,” he murmured. “Now go back to your cuckold boyfriend.”
He leaned down slightly, still holding her jaw as water poured over them. “This is our dirty little secret. You can wear his jersey and pretend to be his good girlfriend… but we both know whose cum you’re tasting right now.”
Summary: Rafe can’t accept little!reader changing her style and decides to get his precious angel back.
Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, abusive and toxic behaviors.
There were a lot of things that Rafe was willing to deal with. Your attitude, your anxiety, sometimes even your tantrums. But dealing with his precious angel becoming a rebellious punk wasn’t on his list for sure.
He noticed the first changes when you started hanging out with a group of people that Rafe called „bad influences.“
At first, pink stopped being your favorite color. Usual cute outfits changed to the grunge ones. Then, your toys quit being your best friends.
God, you wouldn’t even let him call you „baby” anymore.
All your actions were shattering his heart and, most importantly, his ego. Even though Rafe knew how easily he could manipulate you back into regressing, he didn’t want to use those methods on you.
Not until he found your favorite pacifier in the trash can.
It was his last straw.
The next day he started to work on his plan, and surprisingly, it started giving results faster than he expected.
At first you were just confused when your boyfriend wouldn’t help you with the small tasks or pamper you when you weren’t in the mood. Then his new cold demeanor started to really worry you. All of the sudden your new friends and lifestyle stopped being so exciting for you. Rafe and his current change of a personality were all that mattered. He wasn’t your overprotective, caring boyfriend anymore. Instead, Rafe started to treat her just like he would treat any other girl who wasn’t his precious girlfriend.
He carried on with his plan up until you came to his house one night, looking furious and frustrated all at once. You came in and rushed to his room, entering without knocking.
Rafe was laying on his bed, almost completely ignoring your sudden unexpected invasion.
„Why would you treat me like that today, Rafe?”
You could’ve sworn that you saw Rafe trying to hide a small smirk after hearing your words and your shaky voice.
Of course, a good boyfriend would immediately stop with his games and rush to calm you down, but it wasn’t the case.
After all, a good girl wouldn’t dare to mistreat her daddy like that.
„Like what?"
Rafe asked nonchalantly, almost looking bored by your presence, even though he was more than relieved to see you crawling back to him.
„Like, I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”
When Rafe heard those needy and childish notes in your voice he finally put his phone away and stood up from his bed, slowly heading to you. His facial expression wasn’t soft like usual, but it also wasn’t stern or cold like it was before.
Now Rafe looked more disappointed and dissatisfied than mad.
„Tell you what, babe. My girlfriend is a precious angel, and you are definitely not her.”
Your eyes widened at his words as you saw him pointing his finger towards your outfit with a clear disgust on his face.
„All of this isn’t for my angel. It’s for the punks and other morons who lack brains and basic manners.”
Rafe noticed that your eyes started watering already, but he wasn’t done yet. Not after everything you put him through those couple of days.
„I’m sorry, baby, but I won’t be seen with a girl who looks and behaves like that.”
And just like that, your bravado was destroyed. Tears started streaming down your cheeks faster than you realized that you were crying. Then your voice shook as you were trying to say something but couldn’t get those words out of your mouth. Finally, your knees weakened. Rafe's arms caught you right before you could’ve lost your balance.Your body softened in his arms immediately, but your breath was still shaky.
„It’s okay, baby. I know it hurts to finally acknowledging how much you could’ve lost.”
You hugged Rafe tighter, pulling him closer to you, probably fearing that he would vanish right there and then. You wanted to feel loved and cherished again; you wanted to know that you were still his precious angel.
„I…I’m sorry, Dada.”
You mumbled, hiding your puffy face in his neck.
It was such a shame that you couldn’t see a victorious smile that was playing on your daddy’s lips.
Rafe hummed to himself after your little apology and then easily picked you up and carried you to bed, smiling at you like absolutely nothing had happened.
Before you could realize it, you were cuddled up in his arms with a pretty pink pacifier in your mouth.
„The next time you decide to throw your pacifier away, just know that I bought a whole pack of them.”
Rafe said, while playing with your hair carefully, which was nothing like his previous demeanor. You nodded, even though your brain was too dizzy and melted to actually understand what he meant by that.
Warnings: Henry uses his illusion casting powers for good, fluff as always, soft!Henry, no use of Y/N - just nicknames for reader, scared reader, etc.
Request: @flightlessswan I saw your CG Steve and wuv it, I've even re-read it cause🥺 Could you do CG Henry Creel? There is none of him anywhere and I just can't not think of him as a good caregiver. Playing piano for you to cheer you up/take your mind off a thunderstorm. Being so gentle when helping you get dressed and sweet to you<3
A/N: This was probably the hardest story I’ve ever attempted to write, which is why it’s one of my much shorter stories, but I really wanted to go through with the challenge of writing for Henry. So, I apologize if it’s not that good ‘cause I couldn’t really come up with much, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. If you think I should add anything, let me know!
I wrote it in a way that sounds a tad bit modernized. The reader is described to wear clothes that are more from our time period instead of Henry’s time period, and I pictured him wearing more modernized clothing as well instead of suits and things he wore in the show. But I imagined them living in the Creel house as if it was back in that time. I kinda mixed time periods is what I’m trying to say (lol).
I also understand that the photo I used of Jamie is of his character Jace, but I couldn’t find one of Henry that depicted what I was imagining in the story, so I just found another one of Jamie with a soft expression, one he would use to look at the reader.
The thunder roared outside the large house, the lightning flashes illuminating your room in colorful rays through the stained glass windows, a high pitched scream following.
Henry was at your side within seconds, it seemed, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck as he held you against his body. Placing you on his lap, he rocked you back and forth, pressing a long, gentle kiss to your temple.
“It’s alright, darling. Just a little storm. I’m right here,” Henry assured you, guiding his hand up and down your back soothingly. His heart broke at your frightened sniffles. He pulled back just slightly to look in your eyes, trying to gauge whether you were still in your adult mindset, or if the storm scared you into your small mind. The childlike sparkle in your glassy eyes told him it was indeed the latter.
“Oh, my sweet girl, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you,” He pulled you back against his chest, holding you there until your cries died down.
An idea suddenly popped into Henry’s head, and, standing up, he placed you down in front of your closet, although not without some hesitation from you. He was quick to assure you that he was not going to leave you, but instead help you get dressed in some comfy clothes.
Henry pulls out one of your favorite hoodies and a pair of leggings, turning back towards you and kneeling down in front of you. “Arms up,” He softly commands, a sweet smile on his face. He begins to lift your t-shirt over your head and replaces it with your hoodie before taking your leggings, guiding each of your legs in and pulling them up snuggly around your waist.
Looking you over to make sure you were comfortable, he rubs his hands down your arms, takes your hands in his and kisses your knuckles, receiving a tiny smile from you. Henry was obsessed with your smile, no matter how small. His heart fluttered every time he saw it.
Placing his arms under your thighs, Henry lifts you up, your arms coming around to latch onto his neck, your legs wrapping around his waist as you cling to him like a koala. He leans down to grab your dragon stuffie from your bed and pacifier from the bedside table and heads out of your room and down the stairs. With your head laying on his shoulder watching where Henry was going, the grand piano comes into view and he takes a seat, turning you around so you’re comfortably seated on his lap.
Brushing his fingers through your hair, beginning to soothe you, Henry places your pacifier between your lips and your dragon stuffie in your arms as you lean back against his chest. His arms surround you as he positions his hands on the piano keys. He begins to play Dream Waves by Matthias Krauss, your head laying against the spot between his neck and shoulder.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. Let me take care of you. Let me take you to your safe place,” Henry instructs in a whisper. You do as he says and your mind begins to clear, your body relaxes and a soft light begins to appear from the darkness as his music transports you elsewhere…
You open your eyes to see you are now in the exact opposite of where you had just been. A sunset rests on the horizon over a vast ocean, waves lapping over the sandy shore. Lilac clouds move slowly through the orange sky, the sun casting a bright glow over the water. Long green grass sways from the breeze, but the heat from the fireplace beside you keeps the cold at bay. You glance up to see sparkling fairy lights strung across the expanse of the ceiling, green vines cascading down white pillars. Your eyes land on an array of candles and lanterns placed on the coffee table in front of you, a book placed on the edge. Turning your head to the left and right, blankets and pillows surround you on the L-shaped couch from where you were sitting in the innermost corner. Piano music could be heard, seeming almost like it was being played at a distance, but still close as if it was right next to you, an anomaly you couldn’t explain.
You feel strong arms embracing you as your eyes scan your surroundings. Finally, you look behind you to see the person you feel the most safe with, holding your body close. To your surprise, he was already looking at you, the most loving emotion in his eyes. He could be looking at the mesmerizing ocean or the beautiful sunset, but instead, he was gazing at you as if you were the most mesmerizing thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“Hey, baby girl,” Henry smiles down at you, turning you so you’re sitting sideways on his lap, but still facing the ocean so you could see it. “This is much better, isn’t it? A little less scary?” He suggests, earning a little smile from you as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, smoothing his thumb over your soft cheek. You stare up at him as if the world around you didn’t exist. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.
Lifting your dragon stuffie for you to see, “You know how brave you are, sweet girl? You’re as brave as a dragon, even when you think you’re not. Whenever you’re afraid, just think of this little dragon,” He takes your dragon, lightly bopping it on your nose, and you giggle lightheartedly, bringing a smile to Henry’s lips. “Nothing can scare my brave, strong girl. And nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m around.” Henry glides the back of his hand down from your temple to your cheek, down the slope of your nose, and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
You nuzzle your nose into his chest, curling yourself into him as his arms tighten their hold around you. You both look out over the horizon, the ocean waves hypnotizing your mind. Henry runs his fingers through your hair with one hand, the other rubbing against your side. Your eyes become heavy as they close, your mind too at ease to stay awake.
You couldn’t feel any safer than you feel now, in such a calm place, in the safe embrace of your favorite person. Even if this place wasn’t real, you reveled in the peace you could only find here, a place you wish you never had to leave. Although, as your mind searched for sleep and rest, you knew you could always find this peace in the arms of the one whose care would always be at your beck and call. As the winds howled and the thunder resounded, peace could always be found in the arms of he whose love for you could never cease.
Bruce introducing Fem!Reader to the family for the first time.
Bruce: This is my biological daughter whom I'm extremely stupidly protective of and hidden from you all
Bruce: Please, be nice. She is weak and fragile and helpless. And, mourning her dead mother.
Everyone looking at Damian for his reaction since he's just barely getting out of the blood son phase
Damian: I need to make a call
Everyone: ...
Cass: That wasn't a negative reaction
Damian in the Batcave making a call to his mother on the Batcomputer.
Damian: Greetings, Omm.
Thalia: Habibi, what is that matter?
Damian: It's father. He has just informed us all that I have sister. A blood sister.
Thalia leaning forward as a lethal gleam in her eyes.
Thalia: Oh?
Damian: She is...
Damian: ... untrained. And, has lost her own mother recently
Thalia: *Gasp*
Damian: I know...
Damian: You need to come to Gotham as soon as possible and train her. I don't think father plans too.
Thalia already setting up a jet to fly in: I WILL BE THERE IN TWELVE HOURS
A/N: Little crack idea for Damian actually being the first to start up the fanclub for his new sibling. No sister of Damian's isn't going to know how not to defend themselves. 😤 And, Thalia jumping at the opportunity to be a girl mom just feels right. She just wanted a blank one to start with and for them to be Bruce's blood.
A/N: I don't know if I got those terms of endearment right.
heyy !! big fan of your writing, can i request any and i mean ANYTHING at all about age regression twilight? pleaseee
(Of course! I'll do my best, off the top of my head.)
(See masterlist for previous Yandere Cullens forced agere installments)
When they told you it was time for the family to move, you were expecting a Uhaul truck.
You were expecting to watch them lift sofas and dressers over their heads with comical ease and pack their unnecessarily diverse sets of dishes and flatware into boxes labeled 'Kitchen' in marker.
But in fact, there were no boxes, no trucks. The family's luxurious furniture and cutting-edge entertainment systems remained right where they were, untouched.
Even the cars in the garage stayed put.
As far as you heard, they only ever considered bringing one car with them, and only for the sake of maximizing your comfort.
"Humans have to sleep," Carlisle reminded his children. "Preferably on a soft surface like a car seat, and not in our arms while we traverse three states on foot."
"Wrapped in a blanket, our arms would be perfectly cozy," Alice put in. "And our footsteps create a natural rocking motion. And the view will be nicer; the stars-"
"What about weather?"
"It won't rain! That was the first thing I checked."
"What about insects?"
"Bug spray. Easy."
Rosalie, who actually preferred the thought of carrying you to driving you, still saw fit to question, "You don't think it'll draw a bit of extra attention if someone sees us walking through the woods bridal-carrying a full-size human in a blanket?"
(Full-size, you noted. Neat way of avoiding saying "adult".)
"Everything you're asking, I've already checked," Alice said in a singsong voice. "Because I already saw you ask it. It'll be fine. It'll be nice!"
So they carried you all the way to your new home on foot. Bizarrely, their running didn't nauseate or disorient you at all. They took breaks at strategic times, to let you stretch your legs or eat something. Alice had been right about how pretty the stars and landscapes were.
In addition to their inability to physically tire of holding you, they seemed never to get tired of it emotionally, either. Each time one of them asked to take a turn, there was palpable reluctance in the person handing you over.
"Careful," Carlisle said. "Don't let the blanket touch the ground."
"I know, I know," Emmett said, eagerly scooping you up.
Edward, who often ran ahead of everyone, just as often circled back to see you. It seemed he didn't like limiting himself to the others' pace and he didn't like leaving you behind.
"For once, I don't think he'll be waiting for us at the house when we get there," Esme teased.
And speaking of the house:
It had its own set of luxurious furniture, cutting-edge entertainment systems, and expensive cars.
And if you expected your newness as a family member to mean there wouldn't be a room for you there, you were wrong.
There was a nursery with a big soft bed and a playroom with toys and games. The bathroom that would be yours was already stocked with soaps and shampoos and fluffy towels, and your picture was on the wall as often as theirs.
It wasn't an exact match of the last house. There were plenty of things you'd have to get used to. Different color schemes, a different kind of rocking chair, fewer windows in the kitchen, a whole skylight in the living room. The stuffed animals here were mostly new faces– though your bear had made the trip in Esme's arms. The movie room had plush recliners, instead of leather. Even the bottle from which they fed you milk was themed after a different cartoon character.
You wondered when they'd set all of this up for you, but the pacifier was already in your mouth for the night by the time you thought to ask.
The pillows on the new bed felt fuller, and the comforter was velvet.
Imagining the batfam whenever the reader gets mad and screams at them maybe throws a stupid toy they forced the reader to get, they'd obviously see it their baby being cranky, and cranky babies need a nap! (Aka drugged warm milk)
100%, don't try them bro.. It's adorable to them when you do it, they can easily dodge the toy but some of them like to stay in place - let themselves get hit with a toy. It's cuter when you actually get them, they get to feel how weak your throw is.
They don't like it when you get mad and scream though.. Stop that. They understand you can't regulate your emotions but you have NO need to be acting like this!
So, the most logical thing for them to do is to put you down for a nap!
(A/n: I wanted to get this one out faster, since the feedback on the last chapter was so overwhelmingly positive (I cannot express how much all of your kind comments mean to me and motivate me to keep posting <3). HOWEVER, I'm super stressed for the next few weeks, until summer probably, because of school and family stuff so this was a little delayed 😓. I hope you can kind of see the yandere picking up!)
Why's your family trying to connect so hard with you after so many years of neglect? Well . . . I guess its not all that bad- why are they staring so hard???
You awoke to the dusky pink of a Gotham dawn, syrupy sunlight seeping in through your window and painting your entire room in a wash of pale yellows and warm whites. That was the flowery way of saying that when you woke up, it was sunrise outside and someone had left your curtains open.
Prick.
Your head pounded, it felt like someone was taking an ice pick to the nerves behind your eyes and simultaneously driving a tractor over your eyebrows. The light, however soft it was from the oncoming sunrise, only made your headache worse and, actually, on closer inspection everything about your current situation was grating on your nerves.
The blankets were too bunched up around your feet, the air was too dry, your nose itched, your mouth was dry, your throat felt like sandpaper, and, most pressingly, your fucking head hurt. None of that was particularly surprising given the events of yesterday and your concussion, but it still sucked to have to deal with.
The meds Bruce had given you must have worn off while you slept, and the alarm clock on your night stand indicated that you had been out for over 14 hours at this point. To be honest, you weren't even sure if anyone else was awake at this time in the morning, especially since it was a Sunday and everyone liked to sleep in until brunch.
You would have gone back to bed too if you could, but the pressure in your bladder and the desert in your mouth had you pushing through the pain and heading to your en-suite.
Your head throbbed with each passing step and you had to steady yourself on the wall multiple times during the few step walk to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth the most you could do was splat your wet hands against your face instead of actually bending down to wash it, since every degree you bent, the pressure in your head increased a little more.
By the time you came out of the bathroom, you were ready to crawl back into bed and try to sleep off the pain. And you almost did, until your foot slipped on the way up to the bed and you collapsed onto the ground of your room in an embarrassed, pained lump.
You were probably not going to be able to get up on your own, with the way that white spots were dancing across your vision, so instead you yanked your blanked and pillow down to try and get comfortable on the floor instead, resigned.
Except, right when you started to settle in and close your eyes, your door flew open and your four brothers rushed in—well, the younger three rushed in, Dick trailed in a second later, a tray wobbling precariously in his hands. All four of them were gasping and mumbling random crap you couldn't catch through your headache.
You blinked up at them blearily from your spot on the ground, covers pulled all the way up to your chin. There wasn't enough time to wonder why the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were trespassing in your room before you were being gently hauled upwards by Jason, Tim and Damian grabbing your bedding off the ground and setting it back on your bed in the background. Dick was putting his tray on your side table when you got deposited back where you woke up, before the four of them descended on you like a flock of vultures
"Wha-," you tried to ask, blinking up at them, when Damian took advantage of your open mouth and jabbed a thermometer under your tongue.
"Gah!" You protested around the intrusion in your mouth.
He clamped his grimy teenage boy fingers over your mouth when you tried to spit out the thermometer, face screwed up in confusion.
"Don't talk (Name)! I must check your temperature."
"Damian, its a concussion, not the fucking flu."
"Yeah dude, even Alfred thought the thermometer was overkill. They're not sick."
"It doesn't hurt to check, Timmy. I think its good Dami's covering his bases."
"Of course you fucking do, Dickhead."
The thermometer beeped while the Ghostbusters (peace-busters?) bickered above you and Damian yanked it out with the same force he used to stabbed it in.
"Temperature is within the normal range, but we must continue close examination."
"Alfred said food and meds, Damian, not to sit here 24/7. It's not even 6 in the morning, we all need to go back to bed."
"I'm with Timber, (Name)'s gonna knock out after the meds anyway."
The other three glared at him for a reason you couldn't discern. Of course you'd knock out after the meds, it was a miracle you weren't knocked out already, it was literally 5:30 in the morning.
"ANYWAY-" Dick interjected, the volume making you wince, "I think they're right, Little D. They're back in bed, and seem fine overall other the likely headache." His eyes widened for a second and he whirled over to you, "Oh no, (Name) we must be too loud huh, Birdie? Sorry about that, we'll keep it down, almost out of your hair anyway." He reached over to ruffle your hair, completely ignoring the deep scowl on your face.
They were, in fact, being too loud. And even if they weren't, having to see the barbershop quartet of doom at the asscrack of dawn would have given anyone, concussed or not, a migraine.
"Waitwhy'reyouallupanyway?" you slurred out as quickly as you could. You had a concussion, sue you if you wanted to get the talking over with.
They made no indication of hearing you, instead bulldozing on with their own argument.
"You're all traitors, perhaps if you had been thorough enough to begin with, (Name) would never have gotten injured."
Dick's face shut down immediately, Jason turned to the side and took a breath, and Tim glanced at you for a second before looking anywhere else.
"You know that's been dealt with, Damian. It won't be happening again and it wasn't anyone's fault. Enough." Dick gritted out, arms crossed on his chest.
"Tch, whatever. It's time for (Name)'s next dose, we might as well not mess up their recovery with our negligence as well."
"Wait- no hold on, seriously, what are you guys doing up right now?" You pushed, not willing to let that point go.
Jason's face softened when he finally looked back at you.
"There are consequences to attacking civilians. I said we couldn't do anything when during the day, remember? But at night, that's when we become judge, jury, and executioner, and do what the GCPD can't.
Last night we threw the Riddler into high-security holding in Arkham. But, we all know how not secure that is, so we also dismantled every part of his operation, from the funding to the weapon suppliers, the way we should have a long time ago. Even when the inevitable breakout happens and he gets out, it'll take him a long time to get back on his feet."
Then he smiled something bloody, while Tim grimaced next to him and mumbled, "if he ever gets on his feet again."
"Tim." Dick looked at him sharply, and Damian stepped forward with your tray in hand. "What Jay means to say, (Name) is that we've been up late taking care of Bat-stuff, but that's not important right now. Dami's right, it's time for your next dose of medicine, I'm sure that concussion must be killing you, huh? That bastard knocked you pretty good. We waited until you were up to give you the meds since every minute of sleep will help you recover."
Jason was the first to help you into a sitting position while Tim shoved a croissant (freshly baked? damn) into your hands and Dick raised a cup of tea to your lips after every bite to wash it down. He also stared intently at your throat every time you swallowed and followed the food until he was sure it made it down. Fucking weirdo.
The whole thing was weird, why were these punks sitting by your bedside playing nurse simulator and feeding you by hand, when a week ago you could have fallen down the stairs in front of them and no one would have so much as looked up from their dinner.
Damian hung back, carefully holding the tiny cup with your next dose of painkillers in it—the same two tiny pink pills you'd been given last time.
He gave them to you carefully when you were done eating, swallowing them down in a hurry to try and get the Spice Girls out of your space.
They tucked you back in and left as soon as your eyelids got droopy, but you could have sworn you felt a scratchy kiss on your forehead at some point much later.
Wait, hold on, how'd they know when you were up?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(A/n: And fin! Here's the next one (after far too long, I know, Papa's sorry), I hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback is much appreciated! :])
Wait this is gonna get dark and creepy maybe but hear me out (this might be just be trash cause I just woke up) bur what if Di*k had a biological younger sibling who is a couple years younger than him that grows up along side him but refuses to see them as a grow up still stuck in the mindset of them being a child like what do you mean your off to college?! No! Your still a baby (he probably still sees them that way because of his parents accident and how it made him responsible about it)
When the reader was younger they would accept Di*k kind of babying them but as they grew older they put there foot down for Di*k to stop babying them it was embarrassing for them and that they were an adult. Di*k relents for now but when they say they are going to college out of state he freaks out and storms off and a while after forms a sick idea.
He invites his sibling to his apartment in Bludhaven before they head off to college and they have a movie night he offers them their favorite drink and they start to feel so tired can’t even move right and Di*k just starts talking but it’s weird and creepy and condescending and babying telling them that college isn’t right for a baby that it’s brainwashed and than reader tries to leave but fails feeling so sluggish and Di*k reveals that he put something to make them fall asleep in their drink and as much as they try to fight it sleepiness wins.
When they wake up it’s to their childhood bedroom if not a bit more babyish with childproof everything and they are dressed in child like clothing mittens in hand that won’t come off and Di*k appears sweet talking babying condescending as reader freaks out and Di*k takes it as them being fussy and throwing a tantrum.
Oh anon.... I wish I had your brains....
GENDER NEUTRAL
TW: Infantilization, drugging, kidnapping
18 years. Dick had known you for eighteen years. You guys grew up together in the circus, you were there for the tragic accident. You guys depended on each other! What do you mean you're leaving him behind for college?
He never went to college. He didn't need to, he had you. Does he mean nothing? Does your relationship mean nothing?
It's not fair, he's done everything for you! Either way you're too young to go out into the world. College is scary, haven't you seen the movies? Haven't you seen the crime cases?
Dick finds himself standing in the spare room in his apartment. Ever since the tragedy Dick had always hated being apart from you. In his hands was a box full of glow in the dark stars, ABC and 123 posters, and baby proofing materials. He'd run it by Bruce the other day and the man said yes, so long as it doesn't get out to the public or other heroes.
He'd have to be quick, you're coming over for the farewell dinner in an hour.
--
You knock at the door, humming a tune you heard over the radio on the drive over. This was so exciting, a fresh start, a new adventure. You couldn't wait to do what normal people did - not wear kevlar and fight crime, or mourn the death of both your parents, or be constantly coddled by your older brother.
The door slowly opens and Dick pulls you into a big hug, which you happily reciprocate. Dick can be a bit much, he would fuss over the smallest of things and act like you're made of porcelain, but at the end of the day you love him. He's your brother. And though his actions can be annoying he's never crossed any giant lines.
You head in and hum in amusement at the state of the apartment - it had never been so clean. "Woah, cleaned the place up finally? What brought you out of your slump?" You tease light heartedly, Dick laughs and slings an arm around your shoulder, leading you to the couch. The coffee table is already lined with snacks and drinks. "I'm gonna have a roommate after tonight, gotta keep it clean for them." He says happily.
Your smile softens slightly, it's good Dick isn't reacting too negatively about you leaving for college, you were worried he was going to lash out like when you both were in high school - he was in 12th grade while you were in 8th - and you didn't want to sit with him at lunch.
You take your seat, left cushion as always. "Really? Aren't you worried they'd find out about your vigilante life?" You question, it's a valid question considering the fact Bruce drilled into your heads not to go around making it easy to expose hidden identities. "Nah, they already know" He replies, shrugging and turning on the tv. He casts a knowing glance your way, one you don't notice.
He presses play on the movie and you start to eat.
--
It's about half way into the movie and you feel a pounding headache start to form, you grimace but don't speak up. It's only a headache, you'll survive. But, it slowly gets worse.. What's happening? This isn't normal..
You look down at your drink and notice your hands are shaking, your vision tunnels and blackens at the edges. Dick's hands enter your line of sight as he cups your jaw and tilts your head up to see his face. He coos as he moves hair out of your face. "Oh, did I add too much in your drink..? I'm sorry little one, it's okay, Dickie will make it all better.. Yeah?" He hums out.
He continues to talk but your hearing starts to fade out, your eyes slowly closing as his voice turns into white noise. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder and you're out like a light.
Your head is pounding and your eyes feel crusty as you slowly awake. The room is unfamiliar, yet it replicates your childhood bedroom perfectly. Only now, it has babyproofing everywhere. Even the floor is covered in a foam mat.
You bite the inside of your cheek in annoyance, licking your parched lips as you sit up. You never thought Dick would stoop so low, he drugged you and put you in his spare room! This is criminal behavior!
You stand up and head to the door, yet, just a meter away from your escape there's a clinking sound and you can't move you left foot forward. Looking down you see a metal ankle clasp wrapped around your ankle, attached to chains that wrap around the bed. You curse yourself for not noticing sooner, the thick fluffy socks on your feet didn't allow you to feel the cold metal. Blood drains from your face as you eyes the disgusting metal in horror.
"RICHARD FUCKING GRAYSON!" You scream out. "LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!" The door opens quickly and Dick quickly grabs you and shoves a hand over your mouth. "Calm down, calm down. You'll upset the neighbors! It's okay kiddo, I'm doing this for your own good. Isn't this room nice? Aren't the socks and clothes comfy?" He says softly. You look down at your clothes in disdain before looking back up at him angrily.
Dick sighs before picking you up and taking you back to bed, dropping you onto the plush mattress. "If you're going to continue screaming I'll have to gag you, I have a very nice piece of soft fabric." He warns, completely serious. You've always known Dick could be weird but this was insane! He can't do this! Bruce, Jason, Tim, hell even Damian will come looking and they'll get you out of this!
Almost as if reading your thoughts Dick speaks up, amusement lacing his words like venom "The others know, Bruce is fine with it so long as we don't tell anyone. And who would risk their relationship with me? They know their places as my baby siblings. It's time you learnt yours."
He looms over you as he talks, gently caressing your hair. You aren't escaping this, it was stupid for you to think you could ever go your own way.
Wait but imagine the batfam putting parental controls over everything electronic and the reader not realizing it until they about to watch something “adult” on the tv first and thinking it’s a glitch goes onto their computer and same thing. Immediately thinks “oh okay huh?!” And scrambles to get out of bed going to tell Bruce about it and when they do they are treated condescendingly and “fussy” when they try justifying the parental controls as reader says they are an adult etc. as they dragged off to a room to watch something appropriate for their age which is children’s cartoons with a warm glass of milk (that might have something in it to make them loopy and drowsy almost giving childlike vibes so cuddly and dependent on them) and someone somehow changed them into childlike pajamas as they kind of forget the parental controls until they once again try to watch an “adult” show
They would... It'd be so bad as well!!
Honestly, they'd have the strictest possible parental restrictions for you, it'd actually drive you up the wall.
It's day 148 of living in the manor against your will. You've finally earned enough trust to be allowed on screens. Pretty bland, right? Well, it's honestly monumental.
It took a lot of convincing and acting docile but they finally caved in. Jason was first, the weakest link honestly, then Cass, then Damian, and finally Tim. Dick and Bruce are still on edge but are willing to give it a shot, for your sanity.
It's morning, everyone else is still asleep after their patrols. You're sitting in the lounge room, giddy to finally watch your all time favourite movie.
You sit down on the plush couch in the downstairs living room and turn the tv on. The first thing that pops up? A password input. You pause, your smile dimming. ".. What..? Why's there a password for the tv now?" You mutter in disbelief.
Surely the password isn't too complicated..? You try your birthday and to your surprise it works, the tv turns on, a list of streaming services pop up for you to choose from. You feel your ego boost up slightly from the negatives.
You land on a streaming service with your desired movie and press on it - another password. You scowl, hissing about the stupidity of the family. You turn the TV off, why bother? It probably had ten more passwords connected.
You pull out your phone, deciding to just stream it there. To your horror your phone has completely changed itself. Your lockscreen is of the family and your homescreen is a childish bunny with the letters A B and C above it's head in bubble writing.
What's worse? All your socials were deleted. All of your games deleted and replaced with learning games. Great. You get up, this wasn't off brand of the family to do.. Maybe you could suck up to Tim to get it fixed?
...
It didn't work. You woke him up and tried to sweet talk your way into getting rid of the controls and instead of being a normal person Tim carried you to Bruce - who was just waking up himself - and tattle.
Now you're being lectured on safety and brain development as you're forced to sit on Bruce's lap, his hand running through your hair in what should be soothingly but felt more menacing than not.
A warm glass of milk is set on the bedside table, it's drugged. It always is. Alfred merely glances at you awkwardly before leaving, he couldn't do anything to help you, he's Bruce's servant, and at least it's not hurting you.
Bruce's hand stops going through your hair as he reaches for the milk. "You think you can drink it on your own, honey?" He hums out softly. You grimace and nod, trying not to make it obvious how much you despise your life right now.
You take the milk and start to drink it - fuck everything, at least when you're drugged you don't have to remember this shit. As you're drinking Bruce shakes his knee harshly, causing you to spill some of the milk and choke on another bit.
He coos at you once more, wiping a bit of milk from the side of your mouth. He tuts before saying "There there baby, how about I help, hm? You're so independent but it's make such a mess..." He grabs the milk from your hands and holds it to your mouth.
You sit there for five or so minutes drinking the warm drugged milk - it took so long because Bruce kept stopping and starting, cooing at you between your gulps.
Eventually though you feel your vision swim, everything suddenly too loud. You lay back against Bruce's chest and he places the empty glass on the bedside table before moving you so you're sitting sideways on his lap, your head in the crook of his neck as your pass out.
