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nandolonso · 3 days

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UNDISCLOSED DESIRES (Fernando Alonso x Reader)

TITLE: Undisclosed Desires – aka who is the biggest fan of whom? (Fernando Alonso x Reader)

I got inspired after Baku. P6 BABY, LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO!

FYI: English is not my main language nor is Spanish. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Word count: 4K

Warnings: self-doubt, self-image issues, kind of shy reader, reassuring and slightly dominant Nando (who worships the shit out of you), happiness, positive social media presence, Spanish, dirty talking and fingering, smuttish – I hope you enjoy it. 😉

Recommended song: Undisclosed Desires by Muse

Explanation: Y/N – your name, Y/H/C – your hair color

Also, this GIF is chef's kiss, his gaze is so intense. GOSH!!! 🔥 I hope you'll like it. Let me know what you think! ❤️‍🔥

It was race day in Baku.

You were sitting in the paddock waiting for Fernando Alonso to show up. Your boyfriend. It was hard to comprehend that he was your man, your partner. It was an unbelievable title – but it was true, he really was yours.

However, the last period has been challenging for both of you. On the one hand, Alonso has spent several periods away from you, as Aston Martin has struggled to get a good position in recent months. Of course, Fernando took his job very seriously, so he helped the engineers where he could. They did a lot of test laps, planning, thinking.

As for you: you were an average person. You were not a reporter or a supermodel. You were completely different from Alonso's previous partners. You were ordinary – in the best possible way. But it was a very difficult situation for you. You often questioned yourself: were you good enough? Were you good enough not only for yourself but for him? Where did you belong in this world? Especially seeing the other WAGs, and how pretty and thin they were… And you could go on. So, all that time you spent apart didn't help your already fragile mental state.

It was tough for you not to project your self-doubt onto him. And you hated yourself for it. Because there was nothing you wanted more than to be there to support him in every race. To be there for him, always. But a lot of times your state of mind, the media presence, and all the hustle and bustle didn't help you at all. That's why you stayed mostly in the background, as you didn't want Fernando to worry any more than he had been worrying lately.

Fortunately, Aston Martin recently managed to sign Adrian Newey to the team, and you could almost see the "life" returning to Fernando's eyes. The love of your life was shining as he entered the paddock: his stance was firm and confident, that mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth was back, and his gaze was sparkling with fire which you hadn't seen for a long time now.

You couldn't help thinking how good he looked. How he deserves to be world champion again. Your world champion. The thought made your chest tighten. You loved him so much it almost hurt. You wanted him to be happy and succeed so much – it was sometimes physically impossible to bear.

You have never felt this way about anyone, and you didn't want to lose him. You had been together for almost a year now, but you noticed your feelings for him growing every day. So, you thought this weekend was the perfect time to surprise him and actually show that. To be there for him not just mentally, but physically.

You pulled yourself together: you wore a custom Kimoa x Aston Martin shirt that fit your body perfectly. While you didn't have a supermodel figure, you were definitely gorgeous. You had a lot of heads turning in the paddock.

Your Y/H/C hair glistened in the sunshine, your fingernails painted the typical "Aston Martin green". You counterbalanced the shirt with a black skort that showed off your body perfectly but wasn't too much. To top off everything, you were wearing a sneaker to keep it casual. But the way you wore Fernando's name on your body – front and back, sparkled in his colors, and carried his brand proudly, you were anything but "casual".

As soon as Fernando entered the garage, he noticed you. But he had to look twice just to make sure you were really there because he was not used to seeing you around. Although he made no secret of you, he was very aware of how much you tried to avoid the public. He could understand that you were suffering with your own demons, and he knew exactly how harsh the media could be on F1 drivers and their loved ones.

But at that moment, he didn't care about anything or anyone. Just you. And all he felt was pride. You were a perfect fit. His perfect fit. And the fact that you were wearing Aston Martin colors, and his brand made his heart beat faster. Suddenly he didn't know what he was feeling.

The way he looked at you took your breath away for a moment. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room (even though it was half in the open air). The fire that flared up in Fernando's eyes was so intense, that you feared he would burn everyone alive. But mostly you.

Your feet rooted to the ground; you gulped as he strode confidently towards you.

"Mi vida," Fernando began, and leaving you no time to think, he pulled you close to him, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

In that moment you forgot that other people were standing around you. There were probably a few photos taken of you, but you didn't care. At that moment, it was just the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you to deepen the kiss.

Not only his eyes were fiery, but so was the passion he kissed with. There was almost no space left between the two of you as he pulled you shut to him, his hand holding your waist tightly.

Your tongues brushed against each other to have a taste. You almost moaned out loud at the sensation, and you knew you had to stop now, or you wouldn't be able to contain yourself. This man brought out emotions that you never had before. With him... Well, you were always horny, so to speak.

Your cheeks heated up at the thought of him taking you there and then, so you broke the kiss. You tilted your forehead to his.

"Nando," you said breathlessly. "People are watching."

"I don’t care, mi amor," he replied, his Spanish accent getting heavier, which tends to come out when he's very passionate or angry. You hoped it was the former. "Estoy tan contenta de verte," he murmured into your lips in Spanish. It meant he was very happy to see you. You have spent the last year trying to learn as much of the language as possible, which he of course appreciated. You were of a different nationality as well and English was your common language.

You learned a lot from him in bed. He was quite vocal – to say the least. Calling you pet names and talking through it… Enough, you thought to yourself, snapping out of your trans.

Fernando laughed at your expression and how easy it was to make you riled up just with a simple sentence. It was as if he could see inside your head. It was easy for him to read you. And he enjoyed teasing the hell out of you.

He pulled you closer to him for a hug and pressed a short kiss to your forehead.

"I'm really glad that you're here," he said once again, this time in English, squeezing you gently to mark his words. "And you look beautiful too," You hugged him around the waist, burying your face in his chest and taking in his intoxicating scent. The smell that always kept you going: something leathery and woody. It was very masculine, but somehow still comforting and reassuring. Thanks to Boss. They were doing God's work with this man.

"Here to support the best," you muttered into his shirt. You pulled away from him for a moment to look him in the eye. "I'm your biggest fan, I hope you know that." He loved the way you were looking up at him: the way you were glowing with love and desire. How your lips were swelled up after the kiss, how you stood there in the garage, proud to belong to him.

Alonso was like you. He hasn't felt that way about anyone for a very long time. And although he did everything he could for you, somehow it was very difficult for him to talk about his feelings. And not because he was ashamed of them or because he wasn't sure of himself – he was too sure of what he felt. And it frightened him. He was afraid to open up and might lose you. He was old enough to know what he wanted, and he didn't want to start over again with anyone else. All he wanted was you. In the end, somehow, he was still afraid. You had been together for about a year, but he was afraid to say those particular three words, even though he kept calling you "my love" and its synonyms in Spanish.

And at the moment as he looked at you… He was sure. He was sure he wanted you for the rest of his life and that you weren't his biggest fan, but more like vice versa. And he wanted to prove it to you.

He pulled you into his embrace once more.

"I know, mi amor," he mumbled into your hair and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. "I'll put myself out there, just for you," he added with a gentle chuckle. You squeezed him and then let him go, knowing how much he had to do before the race. You took a few steps back just to take him in, now there was even more determination in his eyes than before. Fernando was almost vibrating with excitement, knowing you were there to cheer and support him. And there was something in his eyes as well that made the butterflies in your stomach revive.

"I…" you wanted to say something, but how his eyes softened with tenderness made you speechless. He slowly reached for your hands, his fingertips gently caressing the soft skin of your palm.

"Can I take some photos of you guys?" suddenly one of the team members of Aston Martin popped between the two of you. He was clearly making some content for the team's social media channel and even though you were nervous, you somehow felt put together and wanted to support Fernando all the way. "You look so good together," he added with a soft smile. You tried to find lies in his eyes, but he seemed sincere. Maybe it's time to really believe that you're GOOD and that you looked great together. Fernando Alonso wasn't with you for nothing.

Fernando looked at you and waited for your approval. You nodded slightly and Alonso immediately pulled you to him by the waist.

"The best girl on the grid," Alonso said loudly and proudly, pushing a soft kiss to your temple. You couldn't help but smile at his affection and you pulled him closer to you as well, while the social media guy snapped a few pics.

After that, he showed you all the pictures. As Fernando looked at you in the photos, all his emotions were clear: his eyes radiated with love and respect. And you were definitely glowing next to him. The guy went on to show you some of the photos, eventually stopped when he had taken the two of you kissing. You indeed looked very good together.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he mumbled to himself. Fernando tensed for a moment next to you, waiting for any protest. But you didn't. You really did look good together and wanted nothing more than to show the two of you to the world.

"It’s okay," you started. "The pictures are really great," you reassured the guy and Fernando next to you loosened up. He pressed another kiss to your temple then took a few steps back.

"I'm sorry, mi amor, but I have to go now," he said. "Enjoy the race," Fernando added with a wink. That damn wink. And that damn smirk. Gosh, that will be the end of you. Pendejo.

You turned back towards the social media guy, and at that moment you realized that because of his interference, you didn't say out loud what you wanted to a few moments ago. You wanted to declare your love to Fernando for the very first time, out loud, but now you missed your chance…

"Can I take a few more of you, especially the shirt and nails?" he asked shyly, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You seem like a truly great soul who supports and respects Alonso, and I want to show that to the world," you were almost touched by his words. You were definitely genuine with Fernando and didn't want to use him for anything. You were just there because you were his greatest fan. And that was the best thing for you.

You nodded softly and you guys managed to make a full-on photoshoot in the end. You were surprised at how liberated you felt at the end, and you even chuckled and did some "model-poses."

"You're a natural," he chuckled but you soon stopped as the race began.

The race was very exciting. Full of overtaking and adrenaline. At the end of the race, Alonso managed to score P6, which is a very big word from Aston Martin these days. You couldn't help but be excited all the way through, expressing emotion and knowing you were going to be all over social media, but you didn't care. Because Fernando Alonso won. In your eyes that P6 was P1.

After the race, you ran up to him and hugged him. He still had his mask on, but you pressed a kiss to the plexiglass. Of course, the cameras were clicking around you, but you didn't care. Because you were incredibly happy, and you were glad for Alonso. And at that moment, that was all that mattered. If it didn't bother him that you were in every picture (and it probably didn't, because he'd asked you to come with him to the paddock countless times), why would it have bothered you?

In that moment you realized that even though you never said those three words, it was clear how you felt about each other. Alonso lifted you up as he celebrated.

"Yes, baby," he said then laughed. You loved it when he was so excited. And you couldn't wait to see what the new season would bring him under Newey's aegis.

A few hours after the race, you were sitting in your hotel room looking at your phone.

Social media, especially Aston Martin's official Instagram page, was full of you and Fernando. You couldn't stop smiling as you saw the hashtag #couplegoals and the many, many supportive comments from fans. What were you afraid of in the first place?

Sure, there will always be some people who don't like certain things, but the majority of commenters were supportive. At least, most of them. You locked your phone and looked out the window. You were thinking about everything that happened that day and you couldn't help but admire the wonderful view of the old town of Baku. You tried to take in every little detail, but your mind kept wandering back to how truly happy you looked at those pictures. And how you guys looked good together.

You let a soft sight as you snapped back to reality. You were waiting for Alonso and he was always on time. You were more the late type, but now you're well ahead of schedule. You wanted everything to be perfect. Not just for the night but for you as well. After the race, you took a thorough bath, did the typical "girly routine", used lotion, did your hair, your make-up... You wore his favorite perfume that made you both sweet and seductive – just to make sure he loses his mind. Then you put on an Aston Martin green evening dress that perfectly accentuated your figure and hid what you were less than happy with. That's how you were waiting for him as the two of you arranged to have dinner tonight to celebrate his placing. Just the two of you. You took your eyes off the city and slowly stood up and went to the full-length mirror in the corner of your bedroom to examine yourself.

You've smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on your dress, but you've looked quite nice – even you were satisfied, which is a big thing. You nodded to yourself, just when you heard a knock on your door.

Slowly you walked over and opened it. There stood Alonso, in all his glory. He was wearing a black shirt and a black suit. For some reason, the color combination looked very good on his skin. His stubble was short and thick, the hair was all set. You were instantly struck by the typical "Alonso scent", the leathery, woody, Boss-y fragrance. Gosh, he looked delightful. Your mouth almost watered at the sight.

But as he looked at you, he was the one taken aback. You looked like an angel in that green dress. And he was ready to be your demon in that black attire of his, to lead you into the dark mysteries of the night as his eyes locked with yours. You were like the perfect match for him: black and white, Ying and Yang to each other.

"Y/N," he basically growled, as he stepped closer to you, his accent heavy. He tried crossing the distance between the two of you. The emotions of the whole day were stirring inside him. As he stepped closer, you stepped back. He looked at you as if he were the hunter and you were his prey.

His eyes burned with a fire you'd probably never seen from him before. You were almost afraid that as soon as he got close to you, it would burn. And you weren't sure you didn't want to burn all the way.

As you stepped back, he stepped forward one more step, closing the door behind him.

The back-and-forth game continued until you got to the bed. As soon as your knee hit the thing, a truly devilish smile spread across Fernando's face. His eyes almost darkened, with only one thing in his mind: you. Oh, he wanted to explore every inch of you like he'd never done before.

Suddenly you didn’t know why, maybe because of the intensity of his gaze, you felt very shy. You felt almost naked even though you were fully dressed up. You were almost certain that he saw right through you and he could see your flaws and mistakes. At least, that's how you were with yourself. Because when it always came to "that", it was very hard to switch off and let go.

"Mi amor," he started. "Look at me!" he ordered, and you obeyed. Not that you could argue with that: he stepped closer to you to lift your chin, so you had to look him in the eye. He could read you like an open book. He knew your past, your traumas, your hurts. "I know you've suffered, but I don't want you to hide."

That sentence meant more to you than you knew. The knowledge that he saw you, like really saw you, that you didn't have to hide yourself from him, and that he accepted you as you are, said more than anything. You tried not to get emotional, but you couldn't help it as a single tear rolled out of your eye. Fernando slowly wiped it away with his finger.

His gaze became a touch gentler, his hand slid down your face, down your arm, all the way to your fingers. There he intertwined his with yours and slowly guided you to the mirror.

"What are you doing?" you asked quietly.

"Trust me," he said confidently, as you stood in front of the mirror. The mirror was tilted a little so you could see both of your figures quite well. "You are the one," he whispered softly to your ear from behind.

You shivered a little, then let go and leaned against his chest. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the way Fernando stroked your arm again, from the bottom all the way up to your neck.

"What do you mean?" you asked softly, leaning your head back to his shoulder.

"As I said, mi amor," the words rolled out of his tongue. "You're the one for me." You opened your eyes and again met that burning look in the mirror as he held your gaze. "I love you, Y/N, just the way you are," he admitted. "Completely and utterly."

The air caught in your throat at the confession. You looked at him with eyes full of emotion, then turned in his arms so that you were face to face with him.

You tried to analyze every little movement of his. Was it true? All the alarm bells went off in your head, but you wanted to believe it. And he seemed sincere. You deserve to be happy too, so it's time to give yourself to it.

"I love you so much, it almost hurts," you confessed as well. Fernando grabbed the fabric of your dress, it was really hard for him to contain himself. His lips hovered just a few inches above yours.

His chest tightened at the sound of your words, and he could barely restrain himself from taking you at that moment. But he wanted to make sure you felt worshipped and loved – just how you deserved it.

He brushed his lips against yours, looking at your reaction. Your breath hitched in your throat, and he loved the sight of it. He wanted you to see it as well. He wanted you to see how he makes you react. And how he makes you feel good.

He firmly but gently started to turn your hips between his hands. He encouraged you to turn back, so his chest could face your back and you could see yourself in the mirror once again.

"I'm only going to say this once, mi amor," he began, running his hand down your arm again. His voice was firm and dominant. You just loved it when he was like that with you. You knew deep down he was devoted and wanted only good things for you. "Keep your eyes on me," he said in the mirror. "I know it's hard," he added. "But can you do it for me, princess?"

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Así amor," he murmured into your neck.

He placed a slow kiss on the back of your neck, then moved his hand lower, now on your hip. There he firmly grabbed the dress and almost ripped it off you so that now you were standing in front of the mirror in just your underwear. As he saw the black lace piece, another growl erupted from his throat.

"Mierda," he cussed at the sight of you. You would have preferred to hide. You didn't want to tear yourself away from his gaze, but you didn't want to look at yourself either.

Just like he could read your mind he said: "You're beautiful," sliding his hand from your waist to your stomach, so that he could slowly slip his hand inside your panties. "What did I say, mi amor?" he asked in a dominant voice, suddenly stopping in his movements.

You knew exactly what he meant: you swallowed hard. Once again.

"To look at you," you answered, searching for his eyes again. As your gazes interlaced, he began to move his hands once again.

"Así es," he whispered softly into your neck, then left a hot trail of kisses behind. At the same time, he started to move his fingers skillfully, reaching for the perfect spot: where he could feel your aching desire for him. The need started to pool between your legs larger and larger.

You wanted to close your eyes and lean back to him, to lose fully to the sensation but you knew him just well enough that if you would do that he would stop. He kept eye contact while his fingers were deep inside you. The demon in black, your demon who wanted nothing but to make his angel come undone at his touch and mercy.

"Nando," you whispered, as you looked at the two of you in the mirror.

"Sí, mi amor?" he asked, looking into your eyes while he kept his steady rhythm, collecting your wetness on his fingers, now pressing the end of his palm to your core. You bite down at your lower lips at the sensation, letting out a soft moan. "Use your words, princess," he smirked, knowing how hard it was to concentrate right now. He loved seeing you like this, and you loved the effect you had on him, as you could feel his hardness pressing against your behind. His intense gaze, his body, his touch, and his words almost sent you over the edge. Almost.

Then he suddenly stopped. You let out a frustrated breath and you get a chuckle in return.

"I…" you gasped and then shut up.

"Sí, mi amor?" he asked once again, tilting his head to the side as he was looking at you in the mirror. You desperately craved some friction, you even tried to rub together your thighs, but nothing helped.

"I…" you started once again, and he looked at you with encouraging eyes. "I want to…" your cheeks heated up at your words and you didn't even know why. "I want to cum." you finally managed to blurt out.

He let out a chuckle, grabbing your hips with one of his hands and he slid back his other under your panties.

"Was it so hard, princessa?" he asked, and he started using his fingers again. This time more passionately and faster. With one hand you grabbed Fernando's forearm while still trying to keep your eyes on him. "That’s it," he told you as he tried to help you finally push over the line. He knew how much you loved him when he talked you through it. "I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come undone for me," he whispered into your ear and that's what it took. You shook in his arms as you finally reached the highest highs, fireworks playing before your eyes and at this point, you couldn't help but close your eyes. Your feelings for him, his voice, his touch – it was just too much. You suddenly stumbled, but he was there to catch you. And he always will be.

"That's it, mi amor," he whispered, holding you close to him, while he pressed soft kisses to your neck as he guided you through your high.

For a few moments, you stayed in silence. Then he spoke: "I'm your biggest fan, I hope you know that," he repeated your words from earlier. Your chest tightened at his confession, and you turned in his embrace, now facing him. A soft and loving smile played on your lips as you pulled yourself closer to him.

“But you’re the one who won, we should celebrate you,” you said mischievously. You started to push him back towards the bed where he sat down, so you could straddle him. Fernando groaned as he felt you move against him. His whole body was becoming hard.

“Oh, we will celebrate, mi vida,” he chuckled darkly. “All. Night. Long.” he said and kissed you with so much passion that it consumed the two of you. Each one was like a promise, a seal, a mark for your happiness and a long, prosperous future together.

#fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso oneshit #fernando alonso fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso imagine

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r6eduss · 2 days

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I really wish you’d make up your mind.

•Summary: Daryl comes over for a smoke, who knew things would get so deep? (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Drug use, a teeny tiny bit suggestive but no smut, mentions of abuse, Stoner!Reader, Angst.

•Word Count: 2.3k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth

•A/N: Heavily inspired by Kimdracula by deftones. I have always thought Daryl is deathly afraid of labels on relationships, so here’s me implementing that into my writing. I love writing for the commonwealth era also let’s also pretend deftones lines up with twd timeline 🫢

Tension.

Tension was always the main thing between you and Daryl. For the longest time since the farm, you two have had something—something that can’t be explained by just simple words.

The both of you have kissed before, but for some reason never have said anything of it. Most people thought you two were a couple, but you don’t know what you two are. one thing for sure, is that you love each other. Platonic or not, you both have always stuck out for each other and world knows Daryl would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you and the rest of his family alive and safe.

Though right now, you haven’t seen much of Daryl, and that’s surprising considering he was your neighbor. Everyone from Alexandria have still been settling in, and he’s been incredibly busy, so have you with your new job settlement.

Suddenly being employed in the apocalypse definitely left you stoked, but you kind of enjoyed it unlike Daryl and the others. It was a bittersweet feeling, left you thinking maybe the world still does have a chance.

With some of the hard earned money that you managed to work up, you decided to head to town looking for music. It’s always been a huge comfort for you, helping you overcome challenges you had to face even before the fall, and you hoped maybe they had some of your favorite albums. Your eyes were set on the storefront at the end of the block, and you soon approached. A sign hung above it, faded but clear. “The Record Shop” and a faint sound of music leaked through the door. On entering, hearing the door chime you’re greeted with a familiar face.

“Welcome!- Oh shit hey!” It was Princess’ shift today, and honestly it was rather refreshing to see her face, you haven’t seen really anybody else you had known.

Looking around for a moment, you take in the decorations. You soon face Princess, giving her a warm smile.

“Hey! How have you been?”

“It’s been great! It’s been great.. How about you?” She responded, excited to be speaking with you.

“I’ve been good! I’m glad things are going well for you Princess.” You were kind of lying, things weren’t really good for you.. it’s been hard adjusting to this kind of life, you’ve always felt as if the apocalypse saved you in a way.

“I’m happy for you dude! Well did you come here to buy something?”

“Yeah actually, do you guys have deftones?” You were hoping to god they did. You were in such a need to listen to your favorite album, and the last time you did was years ago.

You can see her lips curve into a small smirk, as she points to the left. “Yep! All the way to the last aisle on the left.”

You’ve never felt as happy as you felt now.

“Thanks!” You quickly pick up your feet, rushing to the aisle that Princess pointed to. Upon arrival, you quickly scan the area in attempts to find your favorite album “Saturday Night Wrist”.

All you could spot was Around the Fur and White pony as you sifted through the records, fingers brushing against the glossy covers, the album you were looking for nowhere in sight. To be honest, you were a little disappointed, until you spot that beautiful untouched record hidden behind one of the Metallica covers right next to the ones you were looking through. It was very obviously the last one in stock.

You bit your lip while smirking in happiness, grabbing the album and basking in it, the cover still haunting and beautiful just as you remembered. After about 30 seconds of reminiscing, you head to the checkout where Princess was.

“That all?”

“Yep!”

“That’s 30!”

You hand her a 20 and a 10, and she proceeds to print out your receipt. “It was so good seeing you! And hey, don’t be a stranger!” She hands you what you came there for, and waves you off with a grin. You politely tell her goodnight and make your way to your apartment.

A few days ago you had asked Daryl and Judith if you could borrow that record player he had bought for her, since you were planning on buying some music. Of course they agreed, so you knew exactly what you were doing when you got home.

Just as you got to your destination, you spotted Daryl walking up to his own apartment, quickly taking notice of you. “Hey Daryl.” You already felt a bit tense, Daryl looked incredibly exhausted.

“Hey.”

Well this was kind of awkward, you greeted him but didn’t really know how to continue the conversation, until an idea sprang through you. “I uh, finally bought some music. Wanna join me in listening and have a smoke?” He seems like he could use a get away, and you have just the remedies to relax him.

You watched as he looks down at the floor, biting the inside of his lip before responding while slightly nodding his head. “Yea, Yea sure. Ya stayin’ up?” He started to swirl his thumbs together, you always thought it was really cute when he did that.

“Yeah, for a bit. C’mon I’m so excited to unwrap this.” You used your key to unlock your apartment door and enter, leaving the door open for Daryl as he quickly proceeds behind you.

He closes the door behind you both, locking it and following you to your room. It was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of candles around. “Hold this.” You hand Daryl the vinyl, before walking over to your drawer, pulling out rolling paper, an herb grinder, a lighter, and some weed. “Sorry, give me a second to do this, then we can put the album on the record player.” He nods, and goes to sit down on the corner of your neatly folded bed.

You go about crushing the marijuana, feeling the uncomfortableness of the situation seep into you. You and Daryl haven’t seen each other in weeks, now all of a sudden you invited him in for a smoke?

The silence starts becoming painfully sharp, so you begin at your poor attempts at starting conversation. “So how have you been settling in?” He looks up, staring at your figure then at your face, watching your movements as you proceed to add the cannabis onto the rolling paper. “I’ve been ‘Ight.” Wow. Was he normally this bland?

“Hm, that’s good. How are the kids?” Please Daryl, give a response that you can actually open a conversation to.. “They been good. Judith is doin’ better than her whole class.”

Finally, something worth answering. Your heart warms up for a moment, remembering that the kids are finally getting a real experience of what school is. You and Daryl are both incredibly thankful that the children are going to have a chance at a semi normal childhood.

“I’m not surprised at all.. Judith is so smart.” You finished up rolling the joint, sealing it with a lick. You turn to face the man you’ve grown to love, passing it to him while taking the record out of his hands, pulling out the vinyl from its frame and heading to where the record player is. This entire situation has got you feeling excited, being able to finally listen to one thing you missed before the dead rose, and doing it with your favorite person. You carefully place it onto the record player, moving the tonearm and playing it.

The first song that played was Hole in the Earth, and it gave you a type of skin crawling sensation that you just couldn’t explain.

Turning to Daryl, you take back the joint and light it. If you weren’t so focused on what you were doing, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you, admiring everything you were doing, noticing how you felt when the music started playing, and being so entranced with how your hips swayed.

You took your first hit, soon after passing it to Daryl so he can also take a draw. He grabs the joint but he doesn’t bring it to his lips right away. He keeps his gaze on your face, looking you over before taking a deep inhale. He lets the smoke slowly spill from his mouth, while carefully making sure to blow it away from you. He passes it back to you, still maintaining eye contact. The tension was overbearing, and by the way he was looking at you, it was almost impossible not to feel flutters in your stomach.

The slow, moody guitar riff filling the space between you both accompanied with the scent of burning sage lingering in the air mixing with the sharp tang of weed, was making the tension rise all the more. You took a slow drag from the joint, eyes never leaving his, exhaling lazily and letting the smoke swirl between the two of you.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice light and teasing, catching the twitch of nerves in him. Daryl gave a small grunt, nodding and shifting his weight, his gaze flickering between your lips and the joint. He wasn’t used to moments like this—quiet, intimate.

You smiled gently, a little sly, while slowly leaning closer, feeling buzzed while the drug does its job. “Wanna shotgun it?”

Daryl swallowed hard. He wasn’t expecting something so bold, it’s not like you. But the idea of your lips so close, sharing the smoke between you, sent a ripple of emotion through him. So he gave you a nod, wanting more of this confident side of you.

You took another slow hit, eyes smoldering as you leaned in, lips barely parting. “Come here.” You whispered.

Daryl hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning forward, feeling the heat of your breath as you exhaled into his mouth, smoke filling his lungs. All he could focus on was how close you were, the smell of your hair, and how beautiful you looked.

Before either of you could stop, the moment stretched, and your lips hovered near his. There was a beat, then two, before instinct took over. You closed the gap, pressing your mouth softly against his. Daryl was left caught off guard, still kissing you back.

The music throbbed around you as the kiss deepened, a mixture of nerves and heat rising. The joint, forgotten and placed onto the ashtray as Daryl’s hand found its way on your back, pulling you closer.

The kiss lingered longer than either of you expected. Your lips were soft and tasted of marijuana. He found himself sinking into the warmth of the moment, the aroma that had been hanging between you dissolving into something he wasn’t sure how to handle. His hands, rough and scarred, tightened around your waist, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that surprised even him.

You kissed him slowly, as if you had all the time in the world, and Daryl could feel something stir inside him, something unfamiliar, almost unsettling. It wasn’t the impulsive thrill of survival, or the adrenaline of his attempts to protect himself from his father, it was something softer. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the warmth spreading through his chest, the vulnerability.

You pulled back just a little, breath still warm on his lips, and your forehead resting lightly against his. You smiled, eyes searching his to try and figure him out.

Suddenly, it hit him.

He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t built for it. The closeness, the intimacy, the unspoken understanding in the way you looked at him. He was a man of instinct, not one for quiet moments that left him raw and uncertain. He wasn’t sure what he expected when your lips first met, but this— whatever this was, was way more than he could handle.

Daryl blinked, pulling back a few inches, breaking the connection between you. His hand, still on your waist, fell away, as if it had become too heavy to hold them there any longer.

“I— I cant.” He muttered, the words rough, barely forming in his throat. He stood up abruptly, moving his wavy locs from his face, stepping back as if the space between you could somehow shield him from the feelings creeping up inside him.

You looked up at him, confused. “What are we Daryl?” He can’t just kiss you then walk away? What was this?

“I don’t know.” He responded low, looking at the ground, anywhere but your face. You could hear your favorite song begin to play on the record player, this is not how you would’ve wanted to enjoy it for the first time in years.

“I should get goin’” he mumbled, already heading for the door.

You didn’t stop him, instead, feeling the tears swell up in your eyes, you responded with a simple “okay”.

He paused at the door, his hand resting at the handle. He could hear the sadness in your voice, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he did, he might see something in your eyes that would make it even harder to walk away.

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” he muttered, before leaving your room and heading for your front door, exiting your apartment. You began to cry, feeling confused and angry, sitting alone in your room listening to your song, comforting you, just like it did before the fall. As Daryl was still processing it all, the night air hit him, clearing his mind a bit but not enough to shake this unfamiliar weight in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, all he knew was that it was too much, too real, and it scared him. He wasn’t the type to let anyone in, and yet, in that small dim lit room, he had felt something that had shook him to his core.

But for now, he pushed it down, like he always did, and walked away.

@vampiresluv

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon fluff #norman reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader fluff #Daryl Dixon x reader angst #commonwealth #twd #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon smut #Daryl Dixon x reader smut #smut

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 2 days

Text

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn��t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.

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plaguedoctormemes · 4 hours

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People making fun of tone tags really fucked me up. For awhile it felt like everyone i knew and follow was using them and even though *some* people were kind of annoying about them it really did help me pick up tone and intent over text

But since everyone kind of threw a fit and decided “uhmm tone tags actually ARENT helpful and are MORE confusing than just using your words!” I feel like I have a much harder time trying to intuit intent over text than ever before (from people I don’t know very very well).

Like i feel like the point of people complaining was that “hey tone tags arent all that helpful for some people, so let’s be more clear about what we’re talking about, be less overly-friendly towards people we don’t know, and if anything just state our intent” but that didn’t happen!

And now it’s really got me thinking that I might have autism because this along with a lot of other shit going on in my life I’m starting to realize I may have an issue I have been simply chalking up to undiagnosed ADHD for over 15 years.

#the doctor is in #also not gonna lie since moving in with my autistic partnerand away from family i think maybe i had been repressing a lot of shit!!!#that may indicate i have autism!!!#not plague #i even have problems picking up on sarcasm and jokes from people i follow that are autistic for christ sake!

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hannahssimblr · 1 day

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“Jude! God, c’mere.” Michelle thrusts me into the centre of the group, where someone has propped a card against a vase on the counter. I ensure to arrange my features carefully into some sort of surprised expression.

“Oh, what? This for me?”

“Yes,” they cry. It’s a handmade card that says ‘you’re dead to us’ on the front. “Aw, Jesus, thanks!” I say, and they laugh and watch me while I open it and start reading some messages scrawled on the inside. There are so many of them, many even squeezed into the tiniest corners, or sideways along the edge.

‘Good luck on your big adventure!’ some say. Others share a memory, wish me luck, express jealousy at my escape. I close it.

“I’ll read this late when you’re not all gawking at me,” I tell them, which gets a good laugh despite the lack of comedy, and as I look around at their faces, their sad, sentimental smiles and I wish the night was over already, and I was already gone. I feel exposed, like a man under a spotlight without something to say. Would they like me to entertain them? To read their messages and get emotional in the middle of my kitchen?

I catch Jen’s eye. She’s behind the others, by the patio door, dressed in a very funereal black, and an expression to match. While chatter resumes around me, I jerk my head towards the garden, and without words, she understands. She slips through the door and out into the night.

Jen and I wordlessly follow the path that winds down from the house to the pergola at the back of the garden. We sit on a bamboo settee shielded by trees from the road, where the occasional car passes. The breeze lifts pieces of her hair that frame her face.

She is staring towards the kitchen, its yellow light pouring out into the garden when she breaks the silence.

“What a weird party.”

I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even come.”

She purses her lips. “I’m not totally sure why I did.”

“Maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Maybe. Though I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it.” She looks at me then, her brown eyes dark in the failing light as they study mine. “It surprised me to see Evie here.”

“Me too. I didn’t think she’d come.”

“On her own, too.”

I shrug. “Shane and Claire were busy. They were going to their debs.”

“Ah, the debs.” She picks lint from her black mesh top and laughs humourlessly. “Bet you’re sorry you’ll miss ours. I know how excited you were to suit up for it.”

Even the concept of wearing a suit makes me uncomfortable, as though an invisible tie is pulled too tightly at my throat. “You’re going, I presume.”

“Yeah, with Michelle. The two of us are kind of like the dateless losers in the year. Feels about right to end it all this way.”

“I didn’t think Michelle would be interested in all that stupid stuff, if I’m honest.”

“I think that’s what you assumed. If you’d asked her, she might have told you something different.”

“Hm,” I say. “More evidence of being a kind of shit boyfriend, isn’t it?”

An infinitesimal smile nudges at her lips. “I always said you were better apart. She really brought out the worst in you.”

“It felt that way, to be honest. When I was with her, I really didn’t like myself, or I wasn’t completely myself around her.”

“Well, then. Hopefully, one day you’ll find someone who lets you be yourself. It’s what everyone wants for themselves.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I kind of thought you’d found that with Evie.”

I sigh, suddenly irritated, while she draws into herself, hands tucked under her arms. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know the right thing to say about her.”

“I kind of wish you wouldn’t say anything to me about her, because, like…”

“It isn’t my business, and all that,” she finishes, and with a nod, she turns her face toward the bushes flanking the garden with their spiky black leaves silhouetted against the deep blue sky.

My voice trembles. “Jen, I don’t want to be angry with you right now, like, I don’t want to go off and start this new part of my life when I feel this way, but the things you said to Evie at the festival, I just… It’s like, no matter how much I think it over, I can’t come up with a reason you would say those things to her.”

She tugs the sleeve of her top between her teeth, just shaking her head. I lift my hands from my lap to look at them. They are quivering, so I clench them into fists as I continue.

“You should have been there on that second night, Jen, and seen the way she was crying. The things you said got into her head, you know what I mean? You can’t just make shit up and tell it to someone like it’s a fact. I know you love to gossip and tell stories, but this is what happens when you go too far. It has real consequences. Like, a real impact on people.”

“Yeah.”

“You told her I was staying.”

Again, she agrees, eyes still fixed on the garden.

“Jen.”

She swallows, hard.

“How come you said that? It’s not like I ever told you I was going to do that, is it?”

She mumbles something incoherent.

“What? Come on, just talk to me.”

“I assumed you would.”

“You assumed? Why would you assume?”

I realise that speaking is difficult for her, as she is holding back her tears. I should feel more sympathetic towards her, but I’m righteous. With a steadiness I know is shrinking her, I stare into her face.

“Maybe it was both that I assumed and I hoped. Like, a mixture of the two.”

“Go on.”

“You seemed happy this summer, at certain moments. It was just… like,” a laboured swallow, “you’d come home late after being with her, and you were just… Happy, and talking all about her and going on and on about the funny things she said to you.”

“So?”

“So, like, I thought you’d end up going out with her in the end, and that you felt so strongly about her that you’d stay in Dublin to be with her. I don’t know, it didn’t seem that crazy an idea. You were acting like you were in love or something.” Now, she looks at me, her eyes hurt, but still searching for confirmation. Perhaps, if she were especially astute, she might have seen somewhere on my face the flash of emotion that jolted through me. I convince myself she hasn’t seen a thing and clench my jaw.

“I think that was a fairly stupid assumption to make.”

“I don’t. You’ve always done things because pretty girls wanted you to. It’s like your life is based around chasing whatever feeling it is that you get when one of them likes you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” I insist. “Look at me now, huh? I’m leaving her for Germany.”

“Fine,�� she whispers. “I just thought you’d stay. That’s all.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Do you?”

She exhales, frustrated, and throws her hands upon her lap. “Yes, I know it. Look at me, here, at your going away party. It’d be pretty fucking mental if I didn’t know it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve acknowledged it.”

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“Before that, Jen.”

She fixes the full, passionate force of her stare at me as tears fill her eyes. “Because I don’t want you to go, do I? Because I thought if I didn’t look at it, then it’d all just go away.”

I feel a surge of emotion. My throat tightens as though clenched by a fist. “Well… It doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” as the first tears spill onto her cheeks, she wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I just didn’t want things to end. I thought if you stayed for her, then I wouldn’t have to lose you, and nothing would change.”

“They have to, though. That’s how life goes. Everything changes and everything ends, and we all just get older and things move on.”

She whimpers. “But you’re moving on without me.”

I reach out and stroke her knee with my thumb over the loose threads of the hole in her jeans. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll just live your life, and I’ll live mine, and-”

“We’ll be apart. How can I go without seeing you all the time? You’ve always just been there, and now I’ll have to get used to you being so far away, and never seeing you, and you’re, like, one of the few friends I even have, and you-”

“No, come on. You’ll make new friends in college.”

“I don’t want new friends. I don’t want to meet new people and have to explain these little things about me, and my backstory and what I like to watch on TV and order at the takeaway, and what sorts of jokes make me laugh. You already know it all, and you’ll know them better than anyone else ever will, because you were there when I decided I liked them.”

“Jenny, we’ll still talk, and we’ll visit each other-”

“There’s no point pretending it’ll be the same, because it won’t. You’re going to say you’ll stay in touch with me and we’ll be best friends forever, but that won’t happen. You’ll find people who are better, and just forget.”

“Never.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #a two parter!!#and a late release sorry #i will post the second part tomorrow at the usual time #of 12 GMT #i cba waiting a whole 24 hours between releases #curse this 30 image limit

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mywitchyblog · 2 days

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Storytime : My hatred of shiftok

Hey everyone, I wanted to share a personal story that highlights why I’ve grown to strongly dislike Shiftok (the shifting community on TikTok).

This isn’t about throwing shade at the concept of shifting itself, because I’ve been part of the practice for years and found immense value in it.

However, my recent experience in an online shifting community vastly composed of younger members made me realize just how toxic and judgmental it can become.

I’m not here to stir up drama, but to share my story so that others who may have gone through similar situations can feel less alone. Sometimes, online communities, especially when comprised of younger members, can be less about support and more about mob mentality behacing like mindless sheep. And unfortunately, I found myself at the center of that.

Here’s what happened:

Around 6 months ago,I joined a Discord server dedicated to shifting (made by a shiftoker), but for the first few days, I didn’t really engage much. I’m the kind of person who likes to observe a bit before jumping in. After a while, I noticed they had a voice chat, so I figured I’d join in, thinking I could find some deep conversations and intelligent debate on shifting. I was wrong. Very wrong.

Their debate originally was about race changing, and since this is an extreamly controversial subejct on which the 3 of us in the groupchat agreed with, i though maybe age changing would be the case.

Very fucking foolish of me.Very.

I’ve been aware of shifting for about years, ever since I was 16. During that time, I wrote numerous scripts where I imagined dating my comfort characters, and though I haven’t successfully shifted yet, I’m still determined to experience that so i never gave up trying to shift there. Recently, I started questioning a particular aspect of shifting and decided to ask the community for guidance.

The dilemma? I wanted to know if it would be wrong to shift into a younger version of myself to experience the teenage romance I never had. Growing up, I missed out on those typical teenage expereinces, and I thought that shifting could allow me to relive that part of my life that was denied from me .

Thats is how i discivered shifting when i think about it . I was extreamly sour and bitter at the time seeing people my age going out, having a group of friends a romantic partner while i was sulking in my room still scarred by the years of bullying .i couldnt fucking stand it.

So is started shouting ,cussing, insulting, screaming at the universe that it owed me a debt for all the shit i put me through; that it owed me a debt that it can never pay back. And that i was here to collect that debt.

Next thing i know ? Shifting videos start appearing in my FYP and the rest i supposed if you discovered shifting in 2020 you know how it goes.

I asked the community: Since I’m now over 18, would it be unethical to age myself down and live through those scripted expereinces and relationships? My intentions were pure. It wasn’t about fetishizing youth —I just wanted to experience something I had missed out on. And also i made those DRs long ago so i do not want to give up after trying for years.

I explained that shifting is about exploring realities that differ from your current one, and to aslo expereince things that are impossible for you to do in your current so why not experience a teenage romance that I didn’t have?

I also emphasized that both me and the characters regardless of if i age myself down or i age them up we will have the same maturity so there is no power imbalances of any kind. I beleived that if I script myself as being 16, I would naturally have the mindset and maturity of a 16-year-old without having to script "i also have the maturity of my physical age".

(wich after further research and having shifted myself confirmed it to be true)

Some people were actually helpful, suggesting that I could just age the characters up to match my current age, that there was nothing wrong since your intention isnt "shifting for minors" but shifting for an experience and I thought that was a reasonable statement. However, as more teenagers (13 to 15-year-olds) started jumping into the chat, the conversation took a turn for the worse. Suddenly, they started accusing me of wanting to date minors, labeling me as a creep and even throwing around terms like "pedophile." They insisted I should go to jail, even though I hadn’t done anything inappropriate—just asked for advice.

Mind you, these were the same people who had desired realities where they were 50 something with kids 15 with a highschool sweetheart in another. It felt incredibly hypocritical that they were comfortable shifting to various ages, but when I wanted to explore an earlier phase of my own life in a healty wholesome manner, I was suddenly a villain.

As the accusations escalated, I even suggested aging the characters up, so they’d match my current age. But no matter what I said, they kept insisting I was still in the wrong. They claimed that because I had once found teenagers attractive when I was a teenager, I was somehow a predator now ("because something must have made you attracted to them when they were minors"). It was like they were twisting everything I said, refusing to understand my intentions.

It was infuriating. They accused me of things I wasn’t even thinking about. These were serious claims, and I couldn’t defend myself because they were so quick to misinterpret my words and take everything out of context. They were acting like I was trying to groom people in my desired reality (DR), even though I was merely exploring hypothetical scenarios.

The same people who preached that you could do anything you wanted in your desired reality, without limits,that you had all the time in the wormd to shift so no pressure were suddenly placing restrictions on me—telling me what was ethical and what wasn’t. They told me I was "grooming" the characters in my DR by aging them up, which is just ridiculous.

When I pointed out the inconsistency, suggesting they might technically be "grooming" people in their own current reality (CR) since they shift into different ages, or that their s/o from one of their adult DR is grooming them because in another reality there are a minor, they became defensive started blabbing "its not the same thing" and had no real arguments to back up their accusations.

At this point, it felt like I was being burned at the stake just for asking a question. I realized I wasn’t going to get a rational conversation out of this group, and the mob mentality was too strong. So, I left the server, and honestly, it was the best decision.

If there’s one piece of advice I can give from this experience, it’s this: if you find yourself in an online shifting community made up mostly of teenagers (13-16 years old), run. They can and WILL be quick to jump to conclusions, misinterpret your words, and label you unfairly.

In the end, I found better communities where the members are mature, thoughtful, and open to real discussions. If you’re facing similar issues, I encourage you to be cautious about the spaces you engage with. Make sure you find a community that values open, respectful conversations—where people don’t leap to judgments or throw around serious accusations without understanding your intentions.

Which is why i started making this page and publising these essays in the first place.Because no one provide a clear fucking answers in this types of question just saying "its bad", "because it is" without providing substantial arguments to back up their claims.

So i was "if no one is gonna do it, i will" and i did and it turns out these people are even more pathetic than i thought. Key exemple of that is instead of countering my arguments the only thing they have is accusing me of using Chat GPT.

So things to take from my story are :

-Leave shiftok for good its is not good for information or shifting knowledge. Shifting script templates and inspo ? yes. Information & knowledge ? RUNNNNNNNNNN.

-The most vehement critics within the community are the biggest hypocrites. They will call you a pedo for aging down but on the same vein will age up only to get fucked by they fav dilfs. Those against race changing will still race change just to diff species and races that are fictonal in this reality .

-Do what makes you feel good and do not lisen to these people, they are sour bitter and pathetic individuals its your journey you desired reality not theirs.

So i hope this story of mine will help people understand that you should feel bad about about wanting to shift to those DRs.That it will bring you wisdom and help to all the teenage shifters that are approching 18 and are scared that they are doing someting bad trust me you are not bad you are doing something pure and wholesome do not let them go to your head it will only slow you down in your journey.

Best of Luck in you shifitng Journey,

Alastor Luno.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #desired reality #shifting #shifting community #shifters #shifting realities #reality shift #reality shifter #shifting antis dni

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concretenoah · 2 days

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concretenoah turned one a few weeks ago, and it’s got me thinking about how different my life was back then. back in august of last year, i was miserable and alone, and i made this silly little blog to cope with the shit i was going through. shit that i never thought i would overcome. i was truly in the darkest time of my life. but this blog made me smile, and it brought me so much happiness from the moment i created it. i didn’t intend on meeting anybody at that time, but i ended up meeting some of my best friends on here. and they have supported me wholeheartedly from the moment we met. they might not realize it but they all gave me the courage to leave the shitty miserable situation i was in after years of feeling stuck. they showed me that i am important and that i am valued. they got me out of the dark hole i never thought i was going to get out of and i finally felt like myself again. and not only that, but one of those best friends became my partner. a partner that has shown me an immense amount of love that i never thought i would get the privilege of having. and in a short amount of time, we got our own apartment. it’s mind blowing to me that bc of this blog, i’ve made lifelong friends and i’ve also found my person. i never knew how much of an impact this silly little site would have on my life, but i attribute a lot of it to the people i have met on here (you know who you are hehe). everything has changed for the better. idk where this post is going, i was just feeling a lil sappy about all of the good things that have come out of this. and i’m sure there will come a time where i say goodbye to concrete, but i will always hold this space so close to my heart bc it has changed everything for me. i am so thankful, here’s to concrete being one. 🩷🫶🏻

#concrete speaks #sappy lil thoughts i might delete later

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dianawinchester03 · 3 days

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₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ chapter nine | leave it to me ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

word count: 6716 words

warnings: smut!! mdni!!!! p-in-v sex, daddy kink (if it makes you uncomfy i’d suggest swiping off lol), fluff, pillow talk, dean calls y/n a ‘slut’ (during sex)

•September 2009

After the long and much needed vacation taken, Dean and Y/N were back out to work after making up manyyy times over the course of the few weeks. Sam and Jo were on their honeymoon in Italy, touring and exploring the wonders of Europe while everyone came back to reality.

Billy was starting his senior year, in hopes of getting a full ride athletic scholarship he had been dreaming of for as long as he could remember while Dean and Y/N had to face the music at work. Their relationship was now public knowledge in the building, and Y/N was dreading the comments.

Sure, she was superior in position to a lot of the staff so they wouldn’t make the comments to her face due to not wanting to risk their jobs. But that doesn’t mean gossip isn’t gonna spread. They were the talk of the building at this very moment, since they both “coincidentally” took their vacation times simultaneously the second shit hit the fan.

Boy was Y/N L/N soooo happy to step back into that whirlwind shitshow.

Y/N currently had her phone pressed to her ear, speaking to Jo as she shoveled cereal into her mouth. Billy was taking his sweet time getting ready, as per usual, but she didn’t mind at this very moment. It was still early and she had some time on her hands.

“How’s Italy? Y’all have any interesting adventures yet?” Y/N asked, pausing her spoon in midair as she listened to her best friend on the other end of the line.

"Oh my God yes. You won’t believe the food we’ve been eating so far." Jo gushed, her voice full of excitement. "I swear every bite is like heaven in my mouth. We tried this place last night that did gourmet pasta… it was out of this world." She paused and lowered her voice. "And there’s a lot of Italians here that are very easy on the eyes."

“You’re a married woman, you skank” Y/N cackled, throwing her head back at Jo’s comment.nJo snickered on the other end of the line. "Come onnn, slut! I’m allowed to look. Sam doesn’t mind as long as I don’t touch," she purred through the speaker, laughing.

“Jo, honey. I know enough about your sex life as it is. I don’t need to know more” Y/N shot back in a faux-disgust tone. There was a sound of exaggerated offense and a gasp on the other end of the line. "Oh shush. You used to love getting details. Don’t pretend to be all shy all of a sudden." Jo teased.

“Yeah, yeah..” Y/N chuckled, her mind trailing off to the dreadful day she was about to have at work. Jo’s voice went soft, as if she could sense Y/N’s worry. “You alright, chick? Are you at work yet? How are you and Dean…?” She trailed off and let Y/N fill in the blanks.

“We’re great, actually” Y/N smiled at the mention of Dean. “I’m more so worried about the gossip that’s gonna be spreading like wildfire when I get back” She sighed as she finished her cereal, getting up from the dining room table to discard her empty dish in the sink.

“Oh come on, girl. You’re Y/N L/N. You’re the boss lady now, you’re amazing at what you do and you’re smokin’. Just ignore anything anyone says and do your job.” Jo encouraged, her usual tone of confidence echoing through her voice.

“Don’t let anyone see you sweat babe, especially over something as small as gossip. Besides, I doubt anyone will be brave enough to say anything to your face anyway.” Y/N’s mouth creased into a small pout at her best friend’s encouraging words.

“Thanks chick. I really needed to hear that, so I'll try to ignore it. But don’t worry about me, you enjoy your honeymoon ... and put on that wedding gift I got you” She retorted in a skittish tone as she leaned against the sink.

"Oh you know I will" Jo chuckled through the receiver and there was another noise in the background. "Okay, Sam’s getting antsy to go now. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Be strong! I miss you!"

“I miss you more, love you!” With that, Y/N hung up. Sighing deeply as she reached over to the counter, unzipping her bag to stuff her phone in. “William, hurry your ass up before I make you take the bus!!” Y/N shouted through the house.

A thump and a small crash were heard from the teenager’s room, along with a shout “God dammit!” A moment later, an out-of-breath Billy appeared. “Okay, okay, I’m coming, stop yelling!”

Y/N pulled off the road and into a spot in front of her brothers school entrance, her Jeep coming to a stop. "You got everything you need, bud?" She asked Billy, who was gathering his bag and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

"Yep, got everything," he replied, shoving the last one or two of his items into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder along with his duffel bag of football gear. He turned to look at his sister, his expression going a little more serious. "You're gonna be alright, yeah?"

“I’ll be alright, kiddo. Don’t worry about me” Y/N smiled at her little brothers worrying, reassuring him as she ruffled his hair. Billy brushed away her hand with a huff, fixing his hair to look cool. "Yeah, yeah. I know you've got it all under control" He glanced at a friend and fellow jock in the distance who was calling out his name, motioning him to come over.

"Okay, I've gotta go. See ya after school." He said, making to exit the vehicle. “Whoops!” Y/N called out, honking her horn twice before patting her cheek with her index finger. Billy grumbled, rolling his eyes but leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek before rushing away and joining his friend. "You suck!" He shouted over his shoulder, running backwards.

“Love you too!!” Y/N laughed as she pulled out, now on her way to work. She took a deep breath as her mind wondered to how she was gonna face work, the ringing of her phone in her bag interrupting her thoughts.

Y/N reached one-handed into her bag and dug through the contents, a few pens, some snacks, her wallet, receipts, and… finally, her phone. She pulled it out, answering the call without checking to see who it was. "Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful" A low, smooth voice purred with a hint of mischief through the speaker, her heart fluttered so of course, it was Dean. “Hey, stud” Y/N responded with equal desire as she navigated her way through the morning traffic.

Dean chuckled. "Stud, huh? I like the sound of that." His tone turned a bit more sultry, and she could clearly picture him in his office, phone pressed to his ear as he lazily sat at his desk. “You’re in work already, aren’t you?” She asked knowingly with a shake of her head.

“Mm, you know me too well” He responded, and over the line, she heard the sound of him leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been here for hours. This project is kicking my ass.”

“Mr. Alder already sent you a project? Jesus” She muttered as she pulled back onto the freeway. Dean let out an exhausted sigh. "Yep, and you know this project is a huge one. It's gonna take me and half the sales and marketing department months to complete at this rate," He sounded weary, defeated, and frustrated all at once.

“I’m on my way, send me an email of the file and I’ll see what I can do” She stated. He seemed to perk up at her statement. "You'd do that?" He asked, surprised and grateful. "Y/N, you don't even have to do that. I don't want you to have your work more swamped than it already is."

“Dean, it was my job from before to juggle my shit and yours. I can handle it” She chuckled, driving up the ramp into the parking structure at Sandover. "You're a lifesaver, doll." He responded with gratitude, the sound of some rustling heard over the line before he continued. "Look, I'll send you the file in ten minutes, and we can meet in my office. Okay?"

She nodded as she put her Jeep in park and unbuckled her seatbelt, “Alright, I’m in the structure right now. I'll get you some coffee and breakfast because I know you haven’t had any yet” She responded in a knowing tone as she took the keys out of her ignition and grabbed her purse, pressing her phone to her shoulder and ear.

"Oh yeah? And how do you know that, huh?" He responded in a teasing tone, but she knew he was secretly grateful that she was looking out for him. “Maybe I’m psychic” She teased back as she exited her car, making her way to the coffee shop down the street from the building.

“I wouldn’t mind you using an ESP thing to read my mind” He responded, his voice taking on a more sultry tone that gave her goosebumps. “Maybe then you can see and hear all the things I wanna do to you when we get home” He continued, the underlying promise in his voice was enough to dampen her panties at 9 am.

“Goodbye, Mr. Smith” She playfully scoffed. "You'll need to keep that attitude in check, Ms. L/N" He retorted with a cocky tone, Y/N rolled her eyes at this as she pushed the door to the already busy coffee shop inwards before muttering. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, baby” She sent a kiss through the receiver before hanging up.

Y/N stepped through the elevator, coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other as she made her way down the hall towards Dean's office. As she walked past, she could faintly hear a few people whisper and murmur upon seeing her, which was expected.

Trying to ignore it, she was quick in her steps towards Dean’s office, gently knocking on the door. The door cracked open slightly and she heard a muffled “Come in,” from the other side before she pushed the door open and stepped into his office, shutting it behind her.

Dean looked up from behind his desk and his expression went from tired and frustrated to pleased upon seeing her enter. “You’ve barely been here a few hours and you already look beat” She said in a concerned motherly tone as she handed Dean his breakfast.

Dean chuckled and took the food from her, setting down on his desk and taking a large bite out of the muffin. He mumbled an “I know” through a full mouth, letting out a sigh with a frown, sinking back into his chair. “Did you send me the file? I’ll take a look at it now” She said, clutching her satchel with her laptop.

He nodded as he took another bite of the muffin, his eyes fluttering shut as he chewed. He opened them again and used the mouse to click on his computer mouse, opening a folder he’d sent to Y/N’s laptop.

“There you go. I marked where exactly I left off. Take a look at it and let me know what you think. I’m gonna go insane at this rate” Dean said, motioning to the many papers and sticky notes that littered his desk.

“Alright, I’m gonna go start on those now.” She nodded firmly, making her way to the door. “Call me if you need anything” With that, she blew him a kiss and exited his office, shutting the door behind her.

He caught the kiss with his hand, pressing it to his heart, smiling as he watched her exit his office. His eyes stayed on the door for a few moments, letting out a small sigh before sitting up straight and focusing on the file.

Y/N stepped out into the hallway, the whispers only getting louder, more intense as soon as she left the office. She did her best to ignore the glances and murmurs, but it was hard to fully tune them out.

She made her way over to her new office that she was appointed when she got promoted and set her purse down, before she pulled her laptop out of her satchel and sat down at her desk. Opening the file Dean had sent her, she got started immediately.

She continued to focus intensely on the work in front of her for hours. It was nearing the end of office hours now and Y/N had the beginnings of a headache. She let out a frustrated sigh as she sat back in her chair, gently rubbing at her temple.

Checking the time, she realized that her brother would be out of football practice soon so she shot him a quick text.

Y/N: | Hey bud, swamped at work. Can one of your friends take you home?

She waited a few moments and a few seconds later, a text from Billy popped up.

Billy: | Yeah sis no worries, my friend said I could stay at her place for a few hours. We’re gonna study for our history quiz.

Y/N’s brows shot up at the ‘her’ in his message, Billy never mentioned a girl before so she was intrigued.

Y/N: | Her??? Does this ‘her’ have a name? (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Billy: | Oh my God, chill MOM. She’s just a girl in my class. I think her name is… Jenny or something.

Y/N chuckled at the message.

Y/N: | Yeah yeah, whatever. Just make sure to wrap it, I don’t need any of your spawns eating my food. Love you! xx

Billy: | OH MY GOD, YOU’RE THE WORST. I’m never texting you again. Bye. Love you more. -_-

Y/N chuckled again as she put her phone away. Billy could be a pain in the ass, but she loved him regardless. She checked the time again, noting that it was now nearly 4pm. She stretched in her chair, feeling her shoulders pop and crack as she did.

A knock on the door interrupted her stretching, “Come in!” She called out after repositioning herself. Expecting it to be Dean but it was not. Instead, it was one of her coworkers.

“Hi, Ms. L/N. Sorry if I’m bothering you. I was actually wondering if I could talk to you” Katie said, fidgeting on her feet in front of Y/N’s office door. “Sure, Katie. What’s up?” Y/N asked politely, she leaned forward, resting her forearms against the desk, her fingers interlocked. "Everything okay?"

Katie, a young woman with dark brown hair, a small freckled nose, and bright brown eyes, shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she stood in front of Y/N's desk. She was younger than Y/N by a bit, fresh out of highschool, working as a trainee sales rep under Y/N and had only been working at Sandover for a few weeks.

"Y-Yeah, everything's fine I guess. It's just that..." She began, biting her lip as she broke eye contact with Y/N. “I’m not trying to be a snitch, but people have been saying some really nasty stuff about you. And I know I haven’t known you very long, but it’s getting kinda out of hand. Some of the girls are making nasty comments in our group chat and honestly, as a woman. I couldn’t stand by and see another woman be so bashed for being in love.” Katie blurted out, pushing up the glasses framing her face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the statement as her heart dropped a bit. She knew that the talk was growing but not to the point they’re talking about it in the group chat. Her gut twisted a bit as Katie’s words sunk in. Her mind was spinning, trying to take in everything that had just been said.

“Well, thank you very much Katie. I appreciate your honesty and I will have it dealt with” She sweetly, her voice tight and restrained as she tried to hold her composure.

Katie nodded and smiled sadly in response, “Of course, I just didn’t want them to go too far, you know? And I’m not the only one here who thinks that their gossiping is wrong, but no one has stepped up to tell them how wrong it is.” She continued as she shuffled again.

“Honestly, I think it’s cute and sweet how you and Mr. Smith are together.” Katie continued, her cheeks tinted a bit red as she admitted. “You two are good together.”

Y/N smiled gratefully at the young girl's compliment, “Thank you so much, it honestly feels good to hear someone say something nice” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that all?”

Katie nodded in response. “Yeah, that’s all. I know you’re busy with everything with Mr. Smith. I was just worried.” Katie responded, her expression serious. She offered a small reassuring smile. “Have a nice evening, Ms. L/N” With that, she shuffled out of her office, shutting the door behind her as she left.

Y/N let out heavy breath as she leaned back against her chair, rubbing her temple again as she processed. “Fuck my life” Y/N groaned before pushing herself up from her seat. She could feel herself needing to tinkle as she hadn’t left her office since morning, not even for lunch.

She made her way to the bathrooms, still deep in her thoughts. As she walked down the hallway, her heart was heavy as the speculations of what people were saying followed her the entire way.

Y/N did her best to pay no mind to them, pushing the door to the bathroom and going straight for an unoccupied stall.As she did her business, she tried not to focus on the voices she could hear coming from the next stall. Two other females had entered the bathroom after her and were chatting back and forth and she could hear every word they were saying.

Her heart dropped again, the conversation they were having immediately catching her attention.

Two of her female coworkers had entered the bathroom as Y/N had been sitting in her stall. One of the girls had a more higher pitched voice, while the other had a lower, more mature tone. As they stood at the sinks, fixing their makeup, they began to chat back and forth.

“Did you hear about Dean Smith and Y/N?” The higher pitched girl questioned the sound of her mascara wand clacking against the tube as she applied a fresh coat to her eyelashes.

Lord, not this again. Do they seriously not have anything better to talk about? Y/N groaned internally.

The other girl let out a scoff and shook her head. “I did. Honestly, it’s all anyone has been talking about the past week. I bet it’ll be over by the end of the month and then another rumor will start up. They always do.” The more mature girl said as she swiped on a coat of nude lipstick.

Thank you random girl. Y/N thought and she wiped herself.

The first girl rolled her eyes and let out a sharp scoff. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I mean, he’s so high up and she’s just some measly little secretary. It’s pathetic that he’s even giving her the time of day.” She sneered as she applied more concealer on a blemish on her face.

Yeah, nope. This is nothing happening. Y/N scoffed internally before zipping up her pants and pushing her stall door open.

“Actually, it’s Junior Director of Sales and Marketing. Aka, your freaking boss” She stated, putting up a finger before burying her hands into her cardigan pockets. The two girls froze, the realization of who was in the other stall finally setting in. Their eyes widened and a light blush tinted their cheeks as they stared at Y/N.

“Ms. L/N...We uhh…” The higher pitched girl began, her voice coming out an octave higher than normal. “Oh, so now it’s Ms. L/N. I thought it was ‘measly little secretary?’ ” Y/N scoffed bitterly, air quoting the girl's words before crossing her arms over her chest as she tilted her head, eying the two girls.

Both girls averted their eyes to the floor, their faces burning with embarrassment. The higher pitched girl stuttered a bit, clearly struggling to form a proper sentence. Y/N could see their cheeks burn a brighter shade of pink as they squirmed in front of her.

“We didn’t-”

“It was just-”

The two girls tried to speak, but Y/N placed a hand upwards, palm facing them, in a gesture to, ‘Shut the fuck up’.

They both obeyed, immediately going silent. Both of them could feel themselves shrinking under Y/N’s gaze, the intimidation seeping through it as she crossed her arms over her chest again.

“You both should know better than to engage in inappropriate conversation about someone’s personal life around a professional environment.” Y/N said firmly, her tone cold and harsh.

“Not that who I sleep with is any of your business, but would you like it if I aired out your dirty laundry out in the office?” The two girls stayed silent and shook their heads. “I have half a mind to report you two to HR and Mr. Alder for defamation” Y/N scoffed in disgust, raising both her brows. The promise was empty because HR wouldn’t really give a damn, but they didn’t know that.

They both looked to be on the verge of tears, which Y/N would be lying if she said it didn’t give her satisfaction seeing them like this.

“We’re sorry, Ms. L/N.” They both said in unison, their voices small as they avoided looking at her entirely. Y/N snapped her fingers in front of both their faces, “Hey, eyes up here” She pointed to her eyes in a stern tone.

They both obeyed, lifting their heads to meet Y/N’s eyes with their own. They still squirmed uncomfortably, shifting their weight from one leg to the other like children being scolded by their parents.

Y/N gaze softened, “Girls, I’m not gonna report you. I’m not some bitch that’s gonna run to Mr. Alder and rat you out. Just don’t let yourselves get intertwined in gossip” She said softly, her demeanor shifting from one of a stern parent to a gentle parenting approach.

The two girls’ eyes widened a fraction as Y/N’s demeanor changed, their surprise showing on their faces as she began to speak more gently. They both nodded silently, their heads shifting down again.

“Yes, Ms. L/N.” The lower pitched girl said, her voice hoarse. “We understand.” The higher pitched girl added, her words soft.

Y/N nodded in response to the girl’s words, satisfied with their response. “Good,” she answered simply. She paused for a moment, contemplating if she should say anything else. “Now, I expect you both to keep this incident under wraps, understood?” She stated, her tone once again firm.

The two girls nodded in response, their heads bobbing up and down in agreement. “Yeah, sure, of course” The higher pitched girl answered quickly, eager to get on Y/N’s good side again.

With that, y/n gave the two girls a firm nod and exited the bathroom. Making a beeline to Dean’s office. The hallway was mostly empty as Y/N walked down it to Dean’s office. A couple of employees could be seen walking down corridors here and there, but for the most part it was a ghost town as evening approached.

She let out a shaky sigh as she approached the familiar door with Dean’s name plaque, her heart heavy. She raised her knuckles and rapped gently on the door. It only took a second for Dean’s voice to come through the door, “Come in!”

Y/N sighed, the sound of his voice already making her feel a bit better. With that, she stepped forward and opened the door. “Can I talk to you?” She said in a low tone, closing the door behind her.

Dean glanced up as Y/N entered, his expression hardening a bit as he took in the look on her face. He knew something was wrong. “Yeah, of course you can. What’s going on? Is everything alright?” He responded, his tone instantly switching to a more gentle one.

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line, the tough and stern demeanor she had earlier with the girls faltered as she pushed her way over to Dean in his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling in his lap so he didn't see her teary eyes.

Surprise crossed over Dean’s face as Y/N suddenly made her way over and curled into his lap. He tensed up at the unexpected action, but quickly relaxed as she settled against his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, rubbing her back and he could feel her body trembling against him slightly. He leaned his forehead against her temple, his voice coming out a gentle whisper.

“What happened, baby?”

“I- I- fuck” She stuttered, her shoulders shaking a bit as she stifled back sobs. Dean’s heart ached as he felt Y/N’s body shake, immediately wrapping both of his arms around her and pulling her even closer to him.

“Shh, it’s okay. You can tell me. You’re okay” He quietly assured, his hand rubbing her back in a gentle manner. He hated seeing her like this. “I thought I could take it. But I don’t know if I can” She sniffled, lifting her head from his neck to wipe her tears.

Dean winced as he saw her tears, his stomach twisting seeing her like this. He lifted his hand up and cupped her face gently, his thumb caressing her cheek as he looked into her eyes.

He knew the rumors and speculations had been getting worse and he could see they were having a bigger effect on her than he thought. “I-I mean, one of my sales reps, Katie, came and told me that they’re slandering me in the office group chat and then when I went to the bathroom. Two of my other sales reps were gossiping about it in the bathroom. One girl called me a ‘measly little secretary’. Like what the fuck?”

Rage immediately flared in Dean as he took in Y/N’s words. He could feel his jaw clenching as he resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall. His arm instinctively wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her even closer.

He was furious. How dare they say those things about her? He could feel his blood boiling at the mere thought of it. “I told them I wouldn’t report them to Mr. Alder and gave them a stern warning but that isn’t gonna stop anyone else. I get it, I’m nailed to the cross as the office slut but fuck man” She groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“You’re not an ‘office slut’” Dean’s voice came out through gritted teeth, anger evident in his tone as he spoke. It took all the willpower he had not to go and track down the two girls right then and there and give them a piece of his mind.

He lifted his hand again and gently pulled her own away from her face, forcing her to look at him. She scoffed with a shake of her head, “Be for real, Dean. Think about how this looks. I’ve been working here for a much shorter time than half the staff. And then I get promoted. Then the following week a picture comes out of us together before my promotion. We’ve talked about how it looks, I can’t say I blame them”

“You worked your ass off to get that promotion. And you didn’t get that position because you’re dating me, you got it cause you’re damn good at your job.” Dean shot back, his voice coming out a bit harsher than he intended.

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He hated hearing her talk like that about herself . Y/N slumped in his lap again, curling up to bury her head in his chest. “When will it endddd?” She whined, the vibrations of her voice sending a rumbling feeling through Dean’s body.

Dean huffed out a soft chuckle at her whining, his hand moving from the back of her head, gently running his fingers through her hair. He leaned down slightly, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I don’t know, doll. But it will, okay?” He said softly, his fingers on his other hand rubbing soothing circles against her back.

“Well, they could say whatever, but I’ve got one thing they’ll never have” She sighed, gripping his shirt. Dean raised an eyebrow quizzically, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “What’s that?” He asked, his voice coming out a soft whisper. He tilted his head against hers, his gaze fixed on her.

“A hot kickass boyfriend..” She grinned widely, leaning upwards to whisper in his ear, “..with an amazing cock” She added in a low sultry tone. Dean’s breath hitched, his heart rate shooting through the roof. His cheeks reddened at her words and he cursed the way her voice affected him.

A low rumble escaped his chest. “Y/N…” he warned, his voice coming out a bit hoarse. “Yes, Mr. Smith?” She mused, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at him through her lashes as she toyed with his tie between her fingers.

Dean groaned, his grip tightening on her waist as he looked down at her. His heart thudded hard against his chest as she toyed with his tie, her expression innocent but the look in her eyes anything but. He could feel his skin growing warm and he had to resist the urge to throw her over his desk right now.

He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with hers. “You are such a damn tease” he whispered, unable to look away from her. “And you love it” She chuckled, repositioning herself on his lap so she’s now straddling him. Y/N settled her hands on his shoulders, rocking her hips against his in a way it seemed unintentional but it was very, very intentional.

Dean grunted as she repositioned herself, his hands reflexively gripping her hips, a low hiss coming through his lips as she moved against him. His head fell back slightly, his eyes locked on her as his lips parted. “Y/N…” he let out, trying to keep his voice steady.

He watched her intently, his eyes darkening as she rocked her hips against his. He couldn't help the growl that rumbled in his chest, his grip on her hips tightening. “Fuck, doll..." his voice was rough, filled with lust.

His hands slid lower, grabbing onto her ass and squeezing it firmly. The movement caused his hardening cock to press harder against her, making her gasp. His eyes flickered down to where their bodies met, watching her reaction closely.

“Distract me, daddy. Make me forget what awful things they’re saying” She whimpered into his ear before connecting her mouth to his neck. A low moan vibrated from deep within Dean’s chest as she whispered against his ear. He hissed in pleasure as she bit down lightly on his neck, his hands gripping her ass tighter. "Happy to oblige, sweetheart" he muttered, his voice husky with desire.

His fingers dug into her flesh as he guided her movements, grinding her hips against his throbbing erection. The friction sent sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins, making his head spin. "That’s it... just like that" he encouraged, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation.

Y/N continued to rock her hips against his, enjoying the feeling of his strong hands on her body. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she felt his cock pressing against her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. She nipped at his neck again, sucking on the sensitive skin there before pulling back slightly to whisper in his ear. "I want more, Daddy."

She lifted off of his lap slightly, just enough for her to grab hold of his belt buckle. She started undoing it slowly, teasing both of them as she did so. When his pants were fully off, she quickly undid her pants.

Dean cursed under his breath as she teased him, his patience wearing thin. Once she finally managed to get his pants off, he wasted no time in lifting himself up, pressing her onto his desk. Spreading her legs to fully expose her before him.

He lowered his hand to cup her pussy. He found her dripping wet, which only served to heighten his arousal. He circled her clit with his thumb, applying gentle pressure as his fingers teased her slit. "So fucking wet already" he murmured appreciatively. "You need Daddy's cock that badly?" He punctuated his words.

Y/N cried out loudly, arching her back as Dean touched her sensitive folds. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Yes, please!" she whined desperately, squirming beneath his touch.

Her hips jerked upwards, seeking more stimulation. She needed him inside her, filling her completely. Her other hand reached down to palm his thick shaft through his boxers, stroking it eagerly. All she wanted was to be fucked hard and thoroughly until she screamed. Her orgasm was building rapidly, threatening to overwhelm her senses.

Only Dean's cock would provide the relief she craved. Anything else would be unsatisfying in comparison. The sight of her squirming beneath him, begging for him, drove Dean wild. He slipped his fingers deeper into her slick heat, curling them to hit that perfect spot inside her. At the same time, he pressed his thumb harder against her swollen clit.

"You're gonna come all over my fingers first, doll" he promised, his voice rough with lust. He pumped his fingers faster, increasing the intensity of his strokes. "Can you do that for me? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me first?”

"Oh god, yes! Please, I'm so close!" Y/N panted, her body trembling with the force of her impending climax. Her inner walls clenched around Dean's thrusting fingers, drawing him deeper as she rode the wave of pleasure he was creating.

Dean clamped a hand over her mouth, “As much as I would love for everyone to know you’re my little slut, and only mine. You’re gonna get us caught” Dean growled, hammering his fingers into her soppy cunt.

“Please, please. I can’t take it.” She mumbled against his hand, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Dean pulled his fingers out of her suddenly, leaving her empty and wanting. He lifted her up, spinning her around to face the desk as he positioned himself behind her. Gripping her hips, he notched the tip of his cock at her entrance.

"You want my cock? Then take it like a good little slut" he commanded, slamming into her without warning. He set a brutal pace, pounding into her relentlessly. Each powerful thrust made her body jolt forward, her breasts slapping against the desktop.

The sound of skin meeting skin, mixed with her high-pitched cries of pleasure, filled the room. Dean leaned over her, covering her back with his chest as he continued to fuck her hard and fast. One hand snaked around to pinch and tug at her nipple while the other slid down to rub circles on her clit.

Y/N cried out loudly as Dean entered her, her back arching sharply. The sudden fullness was intense, bordering on painful but she welcomed it nonetheless. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the desk, knocking over papers and pens in her desperation.

"Yes, fuck! Harder, Daddy!" she begged, her hips pushing back to meet his fierce thrusts. The desk rattled violently underneath them, shaking with the force of Dean's powerful strokes. “Goddamn, you’re so wet," Dean groaned, his breath hot against her ear as he kept up his relentless pace.

His free hand traveled down to squeeze her ass cheek, giving it a firm slap, hard enough to leave a mark. “Please, don’t stop!” Y/N pleaded, her voice hitching with each deep thrust. She could feel her orgasm approaching quickly now, spurred on by the intensity of Dean's touch and the sheer dominance he displayed over her body.

One of Dean’s hands reached around to clamp her mouth again while the other found its way around her throat, squeezing the sides of his neck while his cock disappeared in and out of her.

“Begging for it, aren’t ya?” Dean chuckled, his voice low and raspy. He tightened his grip on her throat, cutting off her air supply just enough to make her dizzy with pleasure. “You wanna come, baby?” He growled.

“Yes, please, let me cum!” Y/N choked out, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. The combination of having her throat squeezed and being fucked mercilessly was driving her insane with lust. Dean released her throat, allowing her to gasp in a desperate breath. He then leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke in a low, seductive tone. "Under one condition."

“Anything, anything at all,” Y/N breathed heavily, her entire body quivering with anticipation. "I’m the only one who gets to call you a slut. Do you hear me?" Dean demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, sir. I’m your dirty little slut,” Y/N whimpered, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She had never been this submissive before, but something about Dean brought out an entirely new side of her. "You don’t call yourself that" Dean affirmed, “Not you—“ He gave her a hard deep thrust, “Not some little sales rep—“ He grunted with another thrust, “Not even God himself. Only me. Understood?”

Y/N nodded frantically, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Only you, Daddy. I understand.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the intensity of their encounter. She felt so small, so insignificant compared to Dean's raw power and dominance. And yet, she craved more. More of his control, more of his possession. She was utterly lost to him, body and soul.

"Good girl," Dean praised, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. He rewarded her obedience by rubbing her clit harder, the added stimulation pushing her closer to the edge. "Now come for me, doll. Let go and give me everything."

With those words, he slammed into her one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release overtook him. His hot seed spilled inside her, coating her walls. The sensation was too much for Y/N to handle, and she came undone with a scream of pure ecstasy.

Y/N's orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her vision going white as every nerve ending in her body lit up with pleasure. She convulsed around Dean's cock, milking him for every last drop as she rode out the intense waves of her climax.

Tears streamed down her face as she trembled and shook, completely consumed by the overwhelming sensations. She had never experienced such a mind-blowing orgasm before, and she knew instinctively that no one else could ever make her feel this way. Dean owned her, body and soul, and she reveled in his complete domination over her.

As the aftershocks slowly subsided, Y/N collapsed forward onto the desk, utterly spent. Her legs felt like jelly and her heart raced erratically in her chest.

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