#Chicago Wedding Photographer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouldump · 2 months

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Hello! I just read your lestat x reader fanfic and I’m completely in love with it! Can you maybe do a part 2 with them still being together in 2024?

Anything For You II | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ you are back home and can’t wait to spend time with the love of your life.

omggg i feel so fuzzy inside knowing others enjoy my writing 🩷😋 this is short, but i think it’s a cute ending.

“You can sit them down here, thank you, honey,” you told your chauffeur, handing him a hundred-dollar bill.

“Thank you, Miss”

“No, thank you,” you winked, watching as the handsome man left, driving off in the SUV.

Unlocking the door, you placed your baby, Lena, a purebred Italian greyhound on the floor. She immediately ran towards the sound of the music, wagging her tail in excitement. You thought back to how disgusted Lestat was at the idea of having an animal. He was adamant that if you got this dog you’d be on your own taking care of her. Within a week, you caught him teaching her tricks and feeding her treats. She was 4 and you were hoping to have her mate, in hopes of having grand puppies.

Sitting your luggage by the stairs, you looked around, shaking your head at the lack of renovation that was supposed to happen while you were away. He hadn’t even taken down the photos like you asked, instead he put them back up. Seeing your wedding photo crooked, you couldn’t help but laugh. Housework was never his forte. Staring at the photo, you traced over his face, nearly a century of love and you were still head over heels. You were surprised when he even brought up the subject.

“Marriage?” You closed the novel, sitting it in your lap.

“Do you not want to marry me?” He asked, playfully tilting his head.

“I didn’t think vampires were into nuptials, or you-

“What can I say? Seven years later and I am not against the idea of being bound to someone legally, I also have looked into it and there are many positive aspects-

“You’ve been looking into this?” You couldn’t help but smile, as he slowly came down to his knees in front of you.

“Yes”

“How badly do you want this,” you asked him, your hand going to caress his cheek.

“As much as my thirst for blood,” he continued, his eyes softened as they focused on you.

“Ask me,” you told him, feeling your eyes tingling, you knew tears were soon to fall.

Biting his lip, he stared at you for a second, before pulling the ring from his pocket. You gasped, covering your mouth, as the blood ran down your face.

“Ma chèrie, please grant me the greatest honor to not only be my companion, but my wife. I love you now and I’ll love you forever, will you…marry me?” He asked.

“Of course,” you nodded, holding your hand out, squealing as he slid the ring onto your finger. The ring was timeless, beautifully made, and could catch the attention of everyone in a room with how large and nicely cut the diamond was.

You ended up having a tiny wedding, in the backyard of your home. Just the two of you, a marriage officiant, and a photographer. Shortly after your vows were exchanged, as your photo was taken. The photographer had plenty of vulgar thoughts when it came to you in the form-fitting dress. Regardless, the two ended up being your meals, before a night of passionate intimacy.

Hearing the familiar serenade, you entered the living room. Immediately, you smiled, Lestat sat at the piano, looking at the sheet music, his iPad propped up in front of him, annotations on a digital copy of the music. Crossing your arms, you watched as he was about to continue with the keys, but lifted his hands.

“Who’s your honey?” He asked, making you playfully roll your eyes. No matter how many people were invited into your home, Lestat became jealous if you were too kind to another person for too long.

“Don’t start, you know who has my heart,” you told him, walking over. He immediately opened his arms for you to sit on his lap.

“I missed you, ma chèrie,” he told you, making you loudly coo.

“Awe, I missed you more, you should’ve come, Chicago was fun,” you told him, as he kissed your hand.

“I’d rather not,” he pouted like a child. He knew he’d end up wandering around alone, and while he had no problem doing so - the city held no interest to him. You were there for work, since the late 80s, you had been a real estate agent. At first a small hobby, you eventually expanded, leaving Louisiana for more land in different states. Over the years you made enough money to last for generations. After being home with him for Mardi Gras, enjoying the parades together, the people, and selling to a few tourists - you had been gone for nearly two months.

“You’re so cute,” you laughed, pecking his lips.

“Cute is more…adolescent,” he rolled his eyes, huffing as you stood up.

“Lena, come,” he turned around, as the dog jumped into his lap.

“Why didn’t you let the construction workers come to renovate?” You asked him, going to sit on the couch. He didn’t pay you much mind, more focused on rubbing the dog.

“They all use cheap material and will make it look all modern”

“This company is good, I swear, we need this, the walls are peeling, for god's sake,” you pointed out.

“It gives the house character,” he shrugged.

“Lestat,” you stared at him with a straight face, while he smirked.

“Why did you take down our wedding photo?” He raised an eyebrow.

“All of the pictures need to be taken down, and the coffins put away, for the renovation. I’d prefer to not have to wipe anyone’s memory because they’re wondering why there is a wedding photo of us in the 30s”

“It could simply be a black and white photo, you don’t look a day over 20, as ethereal as you’ve always been,” he complimented, his eyes quickly traveling from head to toe, enjoying your outfit. You always managed to keep up with time, blending in with society. You even learned how to use a smartphone and were sometimes active on social media. Lestat on the other hand, was stuck in his ways, still dressing as lively as he always did, in a nice suit.

In certain areas, he showed his age, not liking a lot of modern music, casual clothing, or how to use technology. All he had was his iPad, like a child, took it everywhere with him, only your contact saved inside. He still struggled to text or FaceTime you, but it was his go-to when the two of you were apart.

“So, how’s the music going?” You changed the subject.

“I will be going on tour soon,” he said, smiling as you clapped in excitement.

“I can’t wait, you’re going to be amazing,” you praised him.

Lestat had always been gifted when it came to music, regularly writing his music to play for you on evenings when you had nothing to do. It wasn’t until he made his first song, for you personally, that you pestered him about publishing it. Now over 50 years after that moment, he released a song, and while it was under his name, his face was completely anonymous. Although it wasn’t for the reason you’d think.

Your social media had been growing, as you publicized your company. Vampires immediately began to recognize you, questioning if you were trying to reveal to the world what you were. They spoke from all over day and night about harming you, when Lestat released the song, taking the attention off of you. They were too afraid of him to boldly do anything, and you being his companion, automatically were protected. You didn’t agree with his decision, but after weeks of dealing with his stubbornness, you accepted the choice he made.

No one knew the face behind the hypnotizing voice, and you were certain they would be falling to their knees as they saw his beautiful face.

“Are you nervous?” You asked as he kept a poker face.

“Of course,” he grinned playfully.

“You’re going to kill it, just hearing them all screaming your name, I can’t wait,” you told him, watching as he sat Lena down, standing to approach you.

“Will you…scream my name”

“Always,” you leaned back, crossing your legs as he moved next to you, his fingertips softly dragging down your leg.

“Then I won’t be nervous”

“There will be groupies…men and women,” you started.

“I won’t invite anyone into our bed you don’t want there,” he shook his head, as you moved to peck his lips.

“I know you will be a superstar, everything about you is remarkable, I love you”

“Anymore praise and I might get an airhead,” he laughed.

“I love you more,” he continued.

“And what about the others, I trust you can protect yourself perfectly, but what if they try to-

“None of them are bold enough to try and if they are then they are asking to see their final death. I won’t let anyone harm you, all because you wanted to share your beautiful pictures with the world,” he told you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close.

“Thank you, I couldn’t be more grateful for you as a companion and husband,” you nuzzled your face in his robe.

“Anything for you, ma chèrie”

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #amc iwtv

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darlingshane · 1 year

Text

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #darlingwrites #smut #fluff

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queenie-ofthe-void · 2 months

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Tiger Club (part 2)

Steddie || ~1.6k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

Part 1 || Part 2 (you are here!) || Part 3 || ao3

~~~

Weeks go by, and Eddie always seems to miss Steve’s pick up days. Chrissy’s only seen him a few times, but both her and Eddie have been privileged with the presence of almost every other adult family member in the twins’ lives.

Aunt Robin picks them up most days. She always feigns exasperation at Dustin’s boundless energy and Max’s sassy jokes, but laughs every time they tackle her to the ground. Eddie was surprised to find out she actually lives with the kids and their mysterious father. He considered asking her more about the situation, but decided it wasn’t his business.

However, he did find out from Chrissy that Robin and Steve went to the same high school but ran in different crowds. The two reconnected working at Hawkins Hospital, Robin as an interpreter and Steve as a paramedic. They bonded over a particularly difficult patient who’d come in through Emergency and didn’t want someone like Robin working with him, not realizing– as Robin had joked– that Steve was someone like Robin too.

The more Eddie learns about the duo, the more it reminds him of his relationship with Chrissy. It’s at least a small comfort to know they’re not alone in this backwards town.

Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jonathan are the next most frequent visitors. He learned Nancy is a journalist at the Hawkins Post, but is looking to get hired working remotely at a bigger paper like The Chicago Times or Indianapolis Journal. Jonathan is a free-lance photographer, sometimes working for Nancy or the Post, but mostly shoots weddings and family photos. They seem nice enough, although he once caught Jonathan checking him out in the same way Robin had, glancing between Eddie and his own wife with a smirk on his face.

The nerve of these people checking him out, leaving him flushed and spluttering when they aren’t even interested.

Hell, he even got to meet Dustin and Max’s grandparents before meeting their mysterious and elusive dad.

“Munson,” Jim Hopper, Hawkins Chief of Police, the twins’ adopted grandfather, scowled at him. He looked about the same as the last time Eddie had seen him, maybe a few more greys in his mustache and lines around his eyes. Easier to see the fine details when Eddie’s not cuffed in the backseat making faces at him in the rearview mirror.

Jesus Christ, is he lucky Hopper only ever brought him back home to Wayne for dealing instead of throwing him in a jail cell for the weekend. Eddie was twenty the last time the Chief picked him up, almost a decade ago now. He practically tossed Eddie in the backseat, drove them both out to the quarry, sat him down, handed him a beer, and explained in fine detail the differences between being a juvenile delinquent and an actual felon. Needless to say Eddie quit dealing and decided his calling was more educational.

“Oh Hop, leave the poor boy alone.” The small woman next to them playfully back-hands the Chief’s beer belly to get him to back off. “I’m Joyce, the kids’ grandma. And you must be Mr. Munson! We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hopper,” he says, unsure of how to navigate this extremely awkward interaction. The Chief’s stern glare hasn’t left Eddie’s face since he stepped out of the car. “I, uhh, wasn’t aware that you had family, Chief?”

The man grunts, but uncrosses his arms, shoving one hand in his front pocket and wrapping the other around his wife. “Steve’s not my son, but I’ve been looking after that boy since I picked him up for his first speeding ticket. Just a few years before the kids, back when he was dating Nancy.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second,” Eddie interrupts, shocked “Nancy, as in Auntie Nancy and Uncle Jonathan?”

“Jonathan’s my boy,” Joyce answers Eddie’s slack-jawed confusion. “Nancy and Jonathan met just after her and Steve broke up, but they’re all still good friends, obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Eddie zones out a bit, trying to connect the dots in the tangled web of Max and Dustin Harrington’s family life. “Wait, wouldn’t that make Steve my age? And if you raised him–” he points to Hopper accusingly– “then that means he went to school here. With me. So why don’t I know him?”

But Hopper’s already shaking his head. “Kid went to the private school two towns over. Parents have an estate on the opposite side of town from Forest Hills, just barely inside my jurisdiction. I’m not surprised you two didn’t cross paths, he was only ever here for sports, which–” he gestures at Eddie’s everything, and yeah, Eddie gets it. But an estate?

This is the most information he’s been able to dig up so far. He looks back to the playground where Chrissy is still trying to rally the twins’ spilled bags. It’s an opportunity Eddie refuses to pass on.

“And the twins?” He turns back and just catches the end of a silent conversation between the couple, eyeing each other while glancing at Eddie. They stop when they notice him watching, and Hop sighs.

“Dustin and Max came around just after his senior year. The kid was set up for a full-ride to Indy on a swim scholarship his dad paid for. The mom was a girl he met at a party, and he didn’t see her again until she dropped them off on his doorstep. Parents kicked him out, then I took them in. Same week I picked you up for the last time,” Hop adds on with a laugh, like this entire conversation is chock full of cosmic coincidence. “What a hell of a week.”

Eddie tumbles the new information in his head over and over throughout the next few days. He feels himself growing bitter that someone like Steve Harrington exists. Someone who sounds too good to be true. Fake, like the many charming princes and noble knights he’s woven into his campaigns over the years. Except it’s hard to deny when it’s not just the kids, and Auntie Robin, Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Nancy, or hell, even the grandparents.

It’s Chrissy. Every time Chrissy gets to talk to Steve, she raves about him until Eddie starts fake gagging just to get her to stop. She typically rolls her eyes, but he’s sick of hearing about how great this guy is and at this point, he’s not even sure if he wants to meet him. No one’s this great.

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Eddie rants, like he has been for the past ten minutes, “that he can’t even be bothered to pick up his own children? And it’s like you’ve said, Chris, even when he does pick them up he’s always late! What kind of father is that, really?”

He’s halfway through his second margarita, and he’s lost track of the conversation entirely, not sure how they transitioned from Chrissy’s hinge matches to Steve fucking Harrington. Again.

Chrissy frowns at him, and yeah, he might’ve went a bit too far there. Maybe he’s a little sensitive about topics revolving around bad dads.

“Just because you’re hungry doesn’t mean you get to be a dick, Eddie,” she shoots back, pushing the basket of chips closer to him as they wait for their food. “It’s not my fault you decided to switch to detention yesterday and missed him because you were cold. I told you it was going to be chilly out and you still didn’t wear a jacket.”

“I was wearing a jacket, Chris,” he pouts.

“An actual, warm jacket. Not that threadbare, leather monstrosity you got from Goodwill for ten dollars. Just because you cover the holes with patches doesn’t mean the holes aren’t there.”

He lets out an undignified shriek, but she continues on to the actual conversation, used to ignoring his dramatics. “You know it’s not the same as with your dad, or mine. Steve really is a great guy, even if you refuse to admit it. I think you’re just jealous you haven’t met him yet.”

“Of course I want to meet him,” he snaps back, but Chrissy just grins in response. “I have to listen to everyone talk about how great he is, and I’m just supposed to believe it all on face-value? Honestly, I’m sick of hearing about him, and if we keep talking about this it’s gonna ruin my buzz.”

Eddie refuses to believe a former trust-fund kid who hosted parties at his estate just to act like a fuck-boy actually leveled up to become a loving single father who’s adored by his family and friends, saves literal lives every day, and is one of the only queer people in this god forsaken town.

Not that he spends his free time thinking about a random guy he’s gathered enough general information on to build a well-rounded NPC. A disowned nobleman cast out from his kingdom into squalor. With the help of the lonely prince’s new found family, he redeems himself by serving as Hawkins’ most beloved Paladin.

Again, not that he’s actually building this character for next year’s campaign or anything, it just goes to show how much people won’t stop bragging about this guy, and Eddie’s over it.

“You’d really like him,” Chrissy says, putting an end to his stewing. She’s smiling like maybe she knows something he doesn’t, and it reminds him of the same smiles he’s gotten from Robin and Nanna Joyce.

“Yeah, well I’d actually have to meet him to like him.”

#tags up top #single dad steve #teacher eddie #dustin and max are twins #tiger club #Tiger Club steddie AU #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #jim hopper #joyce byers #queeniewritesstories

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cellythefloshie · 1 year

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;; Sister of the Groom

Summary: Your big brother Jordan is finally getting married, and as his wedding planner you have been more than involved with his big day. From planning to being a member of the bridal party you're ready to let loose and have your team take over for the night. Being the planner also helped keep you from being blindsided when your ex-hookup, Vince Dunn, arrived to support his ex-teammate. Worst of all, even after 4 years apart, the attraction is still there. Kinks, Tropes & TW: Sister of the groom, Binnington!reader, player's sister!reader, wedding planner!reader, bridesmaid!reader, situationship, "exes" to lovers, secret relationship, unprotected sex, car sex, implied jealousy, implied caught feelings. Word Count: 4358 Note: I used a different editing software to edit this fic. So please if anyone could reach out and let me know if there was like any improvement in it, that would be great.

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl @wingedwheelprxncess @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xcicix - I swear I'm going to get better at remembering to do this.

While Earth had four seasons, your life had two: hockey season and wedding season.

It was a peaceful harmony. A perfect balance between work and play, as a wedding planner - but this season was different because your big brother was finally getting married. You had written off your entire wedding season for it. You turned many offers to plan the weddings for hockey superstars like Tyler Seguin and Brady Tkachuk. Jordan and Cristine were your utmost priority. It left you wearing many hats. From being the wedding planner to the sister of the groom to the bridesmaid, you didn’t know a moment of calm. That was until the morning of the wedding, when Cristine put the first drink in your hand.

You sipped mimosas at breakfast.

You had done a shot of Crown Royal with Jordan and your sisters, Sydney and Callie, moments before he walked down the aisle.

Going into the evening, you remained in the state of a pleasant buzz that you would not let yourself push past into intoxication. It would be too much of a risk if something went wrong. It was a far too dangerous thing for the sake of the wedding, especially when your ex was there. Well, he wasn’t your ex, not really.

You and Vince Dunn had never been official.

The two of you never went on any dates, but you and Vince had been hooking up since he and Jordan played on the Chicago Wolves roster together. But it never got more serious than that. It was the occasional fuck when you both were back home in Ontario for the summer. Or when you had been down to visit in whatever city your brother called home. It all ended with the expansion draft. It was the moment he uprooted his life that had mere glimmers of you in it and moved to Seattle.

Vince quickly faded into a memory of your young adulthood, becoming nothing more than someone who once knew your body better than anyone. Someone that you only thought about when the weather was just right or when his name came up in conversation. It always left you with a faint smile, fond of the unspeakable memories that the two of you shared. When you saw his name on the guest list, you wore that same smile. Then again, when you saw he sent back his RSVP without a plus one.

You should have known better to go into the night thinking you could control yourself with him around. Especially once you caught sight of him in the beige suit that almost looked pink as you helped the photographer with the pictures at sunset. You couldn’t help but stare. Your eyes flashed over how his button-down shirt would grow tight over his chest as he threw his arms around his former teammates. And they fixed on his smile as it tugged at his cheeks so playfully. Not once did you look away from him. Vince and how his curls hung down into his forehead or from how his suit fit him just right. Nor could you ignore how his laugh consumed him so fully.

That was until his eyes fixated on you in return.

A heavy breath coursed through you, your eyes falling to the grass before you fell into a full retreat towards the reception hall. You lost yourself in the crowd, the toasts, and the occasional comfort that came from sipping champagne when you felt the buzz beginning to fade. But not even drinking could rid your mind of his green eyes and how you could feel him staring at you. They were on you as you sat at the head table with the rest of the bridal party for dinner. And they followed you again as you took to the dance floor to kick off the evening with a dance.

You let your eyes find him again in the crowd as you danced with the groomsman who had also walked you down the aisle during the ceremony. His hand was low on your back, his fingers wrinkling the blush satin fabric as you danced. But your mind was all too distracted to enjoy the moment. Your eyes found Vince at the edge of the dance floor. His head cocked to the side as his eyes dragged up and down your figure. And when he noticed you staring back, he smirked.

He instantly knew that, even after four years, he still had his hold on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced towards the bathroom. The song was slowly fading into the next and joined the voice of the DJ as he welcomed the rest of the guests to the dancefloor. It was the perfect opportunity. Your eyes found Vince again, glancing one more time towards the bathroom before you were slipping from the groomsmen’s hold. His hands travelled down the length of your arms, desperate to hold on to you - to keep dancing with you.

“I’m sorry, I just need to use the washroom,” you said, offering him your soft excuses.

It wasn’t a complete lie. You fully intended to slip away into the bathroom, but you would not use it as it was meant to be used. You would clear each stall, then desecrate every virtuous value weddings uphold in one of its stalls. Or maybe you’d let him fuck you on the countertop or against the door if you were feeling so bold.

Your heart jumped into your throat, the beat of it synonymous with the bass of the music as your every step carried you towards the bathroom door. Eyes fixated on it, and you took steady breaths to keep yourself calm.

The music that played and the glow of the surrounding lights left you feeling as if you were in a dream. That at any moment, you would wake up in a cold sweat in your hotel room bed alone. But the touch of a large hand against the small of your back confirmed that this was all very much reality.

“Hello, Princess,” Vince said. You could barely hear him over the music, but you felt his hot words against the shell of your ear and in your hair that was slowly losing its style. It would be nothing more than a mess of curls by the time he was done with you.

“Vince,” was all you could manage, his voice a mere breath on your lips as your eyes felt the bathroom door and fell on his features.

He hadn’t changed all that much since you last saw him. He was still as pretty as ever. Your lips parted to tease him, only to be reduced to silence as the careful pressure of his hand guided you away from the bathroom door and towards the foyer.

Your head cocked to the side, a brow raising. Where was he taking you?

Your steps didn’t falter, the music and lights fading behind you and into the calm of night on the patio. Minutes ago, before the first dance, the patio was full of guests smoking cigars and enjoying the night air, but with the first dances of the night captivating, there were only a few stragglers to catch you and Vince sneaking away. None of them knew you both enough to say a word as he led you to the fence that divided the patio from the path to the parking lot. He left you void of his touch for a moment as he hopped over the fence before extending his hand to you to help you over.

One hand found his hand while the other hiked up your dress, giving him a good look at the length of your legs as you hopped the fence yourself. It wasn’t the most graceful attempt you could have made, but his hands were quick to find your waist. His hold kept you steady on your feet before he lead you off to the parking lot.

At first, you were going to question it, but it made the most sense. No one would leave the venue for hours, and the only interruption you’d get would be from the valet. Whereas in the bathroom, there would be a constant cycle of women needing to pee, photo ops, and the occasional guest who would need to vomit after drinking far too much. The bathroom came with too great of a risk of being caught by your mother, your sisters, or the wives and girlfriends of one of his teammates. But in the parking lot, there would be no one to catch you there.

He weaved you through the lot, in between cars until he led you to one that was clearly a rental and leaned up against the hood. Vince propped his leg up so that his bright white, never-been-worn-before sneaker rested up against the car’s fender. Then he patted the hood casually. The impact was a simple invitation to join him, one that left you leaning up against the car at his side.

The cool night air sent a shiver down your spine and you crossed your arms over your chest to keep the goosebumps from rising. But Vince was already doing you one better. He had reached back and pulled off his blazer and draped it over your shoulders as he spoke.

“It’s been a long time, Princess. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said slowly, simply. Nervous, you swallowed back anything more complicated than you could have said to him. You hadn’t gone out there for a conversation, you wanted him to touch you.

“Things are good,” you repeated, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as they raised from tracing over your silhouette again, “How’s Seattle?”

His smile grew, and your heart fluttered. His smile always made you weak for him.

“It’s great,” Vince answered, “we actually made the playoff this year-”

You cut him off with a laugh, your hand coming up to rest over your lips before you could stop yourself. “I know. I didn’t stop watching hockey just because you don’t play with my brother anymore.”

At that moment, you already knew you had said too much, and Vince wasn’t going to let it go.

“You watch my games?”

Every single one.

“When I can,” you lied, “the team had an incredible season.”

And so did you.

He had reached career highs in every category. Goals. Assists. Points. He hit milestones for them all as he helped take the team to the second round. A round you still believed they deserved to win over the Dallas Stars - but fate had other plans for them. Maybe he could help take them all the way next year, but first, he would need to sign a contract extension.

You knew it would be the last thing he wanted to talk about. So, it became the last thing on your mind as you watched him reach up to push his fingers through his thick curls. They raked through each strand, breaking up his curls before letting them fall back into place. It left you to breathe out a long exhale, fighting back the fuck that craved to be cursed on the end of your tongue. Vince knew exactly what he was doing by enticing you with his curls. You had once loved to stroke your fingers through them - to use them as your anchor as he fucked you - and now it was all you were thinking about as he hummed.

“We’ll be better next year.”

“Oh?” you raised a brow at him as you turned in place to face him fully. You had to fight the urge to hitch up your skirt and climb onto his lap. Instead, you lingered at the front of the car, standing between his knees. “Am I getting the inside scoop from Vince Dunn himself?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, a slight laugh in his words, “Nothing yet, but I want to stay there. They drafted me. They wanted me on their team,” he said, smiling. “It’s like home, but it’s complicated. You know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, “I know.”

Your brother was in the NHL. You knew how complicated the lifestyle could be. Their worlds revolved around the game and the team. More often than not, the rest of their lives had to be put on hold. Some players would go without relationships and families. Others left the home and the children under the control of their wives and any support they would need to raise them. Hockey season was the very reason you and Cristine had done all the wedding planning without Jordan. But Dunn, he never had that. He didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend or kids. Instead, Vince had hockey season and an off-season, which was dedicated to training for the next season. He just had hockey. And well, you.

“So you, ah,” Vince hesitated, “You bring a date to this thing?”

Your cheeks flushed, your hand coming down to rest on each of his thighs as you stood between them. “No, I came alone.”

Vince straightened up, sliding down the hood of the car so his feet rested firmly on the ground. It was there his hands found your waist and held you near as he quirked up his brow. “And the groomsmen you were dancing with?”

“Was a formality,” you assured him.

“He was handsy,” Vince said, his words a complaint. It left you smiling.

“He was,” you confirmed, leaning in oh so slightly. “Are you jealous?”

Vince looked away, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought about just what to say. Was jealousy even in his vocabulary?

Was it in yours?

For years, you had been on-again-off-again hooking up between his temporary flings and your attempts at a stable relationship. And not once had either of you tried to interfere. There were no strings that tied you to one another, and yet you always found your way back to his bed after what seemed to be an inevitable breakup. Even now, four years later, you were still single, and from what you could tell, so was he, and you were both so quick to want to fall back into your old habits.

“If I was?” Vince answered after a moment, his words more of a challenge than a clue to how he felt about seeing you dancing with someone else.

Smiling, you leaned in so that you spoke softly into his ear, “I think I could think of a few ways to put you at ease.” As you spoke, your hand that was resting on his thigh travelled up. Up over the strength of his muscle and between his legs to stroke his cock through his trousers.

“Fuck,” he cursed out, his bright eyes falling shut as you felt him grow stiff beneath your touch. “I left the doors unlocked. Get in the backseat. Panties off, Princess.”

Easing back, you cast a glance over the parking lot that was consumed by the amber glow of dusk. You looked for any sign of anyone who could catch the two of you in the back seat, and when you found no one, you moved to the backdoor of the car and crawled inside.

It wasn’t the most spacious of cars, the back seat narrow and the roof low as you laid out on the seat and hitched your dress up high on your hips. The slinky fabric threatened to slip with your every movement as you hooked your thumbs around your seamless panties and guided them down your legs before they slipped down your calves. When they reached your ankles, you kicked them down to the tips of your toes and let them slide to the floor.

While it hadn’t been the most elegant way of undressing, nor the most comfortable with the seat belt buckle digging into your back, it captured Vince’s attention all the same. Vince made his way to the back door you had left open, one arm propping himself up against the car while the other fell to his too-white belt around his waist. Lazily tugging at his belt, his pants became loose around his hips. Then, he worked the button and the zipper, free with a single hand, his eyes not once leaving you as you lay propped up on the narrow seat. You could feel his stare drag down your face and over the angles of your body before his eyes fixated between your legs.

Vince ran his tongue over his lower lip hungrily, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you suddenly remembered the last time you had Vince between your thighs. It was the night of the Stanley Cup Parade. His intoxication was so severe he staggered into his apartment, and you were no better. No amount of foreplay could keep his cock hard, and so he lay with you in bed for what seemed like hours, his head between your thighs. His tongue and fingers had brought you to your climax once and then again and again. Vince hadn’t stopped until your clit grew too sensitive to touch and he sobered up enough to keep his cock hard.

His tongue and fingers alone brought you some of the most intense organisms you ever felt - that was once you showed him where exactly your clit was. And the sex that followed only left your legs trembling and your body reeling with pleasure.

You wouldn’t have the same luxuries of foreplay now as you lay there, waiting, in the back seat of his car.

With his pants falling, pooling around his knees, Vince hopped into the car and shut the door firmly behind him. Then came the awkwardness of you both trying to get into just the right spot. His large body was between your legs as you propped a foot up on the back seat. Then the center console. Finally, your foot settled on the back of the driver’s seat headrest. He was stroking his eager cock as he contorted his body just right. You were sure his back was aching with the arch he needed to maintain as he guided you up the seat awkwardly until you ‌lined up with the tip of his cock just right. And before one of you could slip, he thrust his cock inside you in one swift motion.

There was a sting of resistance in your core. Your body was not quite ready for him, and it left you cursing as he pressed his hips flush with yours. Vince braced himself against the backseat, remaining still inside you as your walls broadened to accommodate him. The lack of foreplay and the unfamiliar sting only indulge your pleasure. It left your core aching for the thrust of his cock and the rocking of your hips. Feeling him fill you up with every inch of his cock so fully. It made you wet.

“That’s my girl,” Vince said, his words a satisfied hum as a smile spread across his features. Then, let his hips take their first teasing roll. “Always get so good and wet for me.”

Your teeth came down on your lower lip at his praise. You threw your head back into the seat, biting down harder. But there was no stopping the sweet “‌fuck” that slipped from your lips as you felt him draw out halfway and plunge his inches back into your desperate core.

Vince let his hips roll over and over. A smile of satisfaction grew on your face as your expression softened with pleasure. His hand left the back seat and dropped to your cheek carefully. His thumb dragged over your cheek, and settled on your lips - his focus on the swell you had coaxed to your bottom lip as he said: “So ‌beautiful-”

You couldn’t take hearing his words, his praise, so you silenced him. You stole the space between you, your lips finding him as effortlessly as you had many times before. It was so easy to fall back into old habits with him. To kiss him and to have Vince kiss you in return while he buried his cock in your tight cunt‌. To bite his lip, just to coax a moan from his lips against your own just so you could slide your tongue into his mouth. You knew his every weakness. Every move or trick to bring him closer and closer to his release - and he knew the same for you.

With your tongue stroking along his in his mouth, you could taste the familiar flavour of champagne that was served at every table. It left you completely intoxicated by him, your body on high alert as it recognized his every touch, kiss, and thrust. The pleasure left your head spinning, your lips parting in a moan that you didn’t even attempt to hold back. And you only became louder as he tugged your hair aside just enough for his lips to kiss down the angle of your neck. Desperate, you reached out to grasp at anything for support. Your hand fisted his shirt when they couldn’t carefully surround the seat beneath you. From there, you were a goner. Your moans left your throat raw and your words left your lips before you could stop yourself from saying them.

“Fuck,” you cursed out, your words lacing with your desperate moan, “I missed this. I missed you-”

You almost choked on your words. Your eyes burned as they threatened to water at the realization of what you just said. You silently cursed yourself, suddenly unable to meet his eye. If Vince asked, it would be hard for you to take back what you said - to deny that he crossed your mind almost daily for the last four years.

Yet, he didn’t question a thing. He only smiled against the delicate skin of your neck and let out those soft groans he couldn’t stop himself from holding back when he was close.

Your lips pulled back into a smirk as you dropped your heel from the back of the headrest and pressed it into the small of his back with zero hesitation. The simple action coaxed a deeper groan from his lips.

“Are you sure?” Vince asked. His words were breathy against your neck before he dragged a messy kiss along the sweet angle of your neck.

It left you gasping as you lifted your head from the cushion of his seat just to get a good look at his cock slipping in and out of your cunt. The sight alone left you speaking through grit teeth - you were so close, “If you don’t, you’re going to ruin my dress-”

And his rental car and you didn’t want to have to worry about cleaning up either.

Nodding slowly, Vince buried his face into your hair. You could feel his every heavy breath wash over you. The heat of his breath blossomed over your neck and became a sweet melody with his moans. Moans softened and broke with every thrust and became strangled by his climax.

You nearly let your eyes roll back in your own pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as your own orgasm coursed through you when you felt it. His every thick web of cum flooded your cunt after his last thrust left him buried balls deep in your core.

With your legs wrapped around your middle, you both remained there in his back seat until the desperate panting of your lungs subsided. It was then you let your heels slip off his hips and let Vince ease from his place between your legs. You winced at the void feeling that was left there. The only thing remaining was his cum that threatened to spill from your cunt.

Sighing, you reached for your panties on the floor, your fingers untangling the flimsy fabric quickly. Then, with your hips tilted up to keep his cum from slipping from you before you worked the panties up your trembling legs. The highs of your orgasm still lingered as Vince offered you his hand. You took it carefully, using it to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out beneath you when your feet hit the pavement.

You offered him a half smile, and you let his hand fall. You needed to return to the reception. This was where your night with him ended. With the help of the reflection of his car window, you straightened out your dress and fixed your hair just right. Then you began your walk back inside without a thought as to if Vince was following you back inside or not.

You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in him any further tonight.

Not at your own brother’s wedding.

Dim lights greeted you in the reception hall. A song that could have only been a request from a guest because it was not on the playlist you and Cristine put together accompanied their amber glow. Hearing it had you gravitating towards the DJ to direct him back to the curated list when you felt a hand engulf your wrist. You held your breath and your head snapped around to find Vince. He still wore that same confident smirk he had on while he was fucking you, but his eyes were playful now. With a careful tug, he was guiding you out to the dance floor.

“Vince,” you said his name alone. A caution to him as your eyes searched the dancefloor for your brother.

With his eyes glazed over from his intoxication, Jordan was standing mere feet away. If he saw you, he may not even remember it come morning. Yet, Vince kept the dance playful and unthreatening to your honour. That was until the song changed and slowed. It was then he pulled you in, your body flush with him as the two of you swayed to the melody. There, he buried his nose into your hair so you could feel his hot breath wash over the shell of your ear as he said those oh-so-complicated words, “I missed you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagines

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paigelykyo · 2 years

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Brittany + Andrew

Brittany and Andrew and their personalized, intimate wedding day.

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#apaige photography #apaigephotography #art #chicago #chicago photographer #grand rapids #wedding #wedding photography

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theshanphotography · 3 days

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A wedding or the wedding day is one of the significant moments in a person’s life. Here are guidelines that can assist you in selecting the best wedding photographer in Chicago for the event.

#Wedding photographer #wedding photography #Chicago

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lightofraye · 2 months

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All About E

More self-torture. I don’t know why I do this.

Oh wait.

Yes I do.

It’s because the person I’m writing about is being praised and supported when she shouldn’t be. Shall we begin?

Elta Danneel Graul was born in Lafayette, Louisiana, and raised in the small town of Eunice. Her father, Edward, is a practicing ophthalmologist, and her mother, Deborah, is an interior designer. She was named after her great-grandmother. Legally her name is still Elta, but she professionally and personally goes by Danneel. Supposedly she was given the middle name, Danneel, after a street in New Orleans.

She moved to Los Angeles because, according to her, she knew she wanted to live in California. She moved there and lucked out with modeling. How did she luck out? Her now-ex-boyfriend, Riley Smith. His mother was a modeling agent in Chicago. She flew home with him for Thanksgiving and his mother made the phone call with the agency.

(How did Elta afford to live in Los Angeles without much work? Her parents paid her way, so she basically lived in an apartment on her own, didn’t share with anyone, and got to be lazy.)

Supposedly Riley’s mother also helped Elta with a nose job and breast implants (the first time around).

Elta liked to claim she worked and supported herself, but her beginning modeling jobs didn’t pay very well. She also didn’t get nearly as much work, so her parents supported her.

Elta proceeded to segue into television with the help of Riley to do auditions. She had a few guest spots on MadTV, Amanda Bynes’ What I Like About You. Then she had the audition with One Life To Live.

Because One Life To Live was filmed in New York, Elta had to move there. Again… her parents helped, because a starting actress on a soap did not pay well. She also had bit parts in Love House.

Eventually One Life To Live ended and Elta got guest spots on One Tree Hill, Joey, JAG, Charmed. Supposedly it was because she did well in auditions, but those rumors of her doing the casting couch with Mark Schwan persist.

After One Tree Hill, she had more guest spots on How I Met Your Mother, NCIS, and other shows.

She appeared in a few small roles in movies as well.

Supposedly, Elta is skilled in gymnastics, can sing and play piano.

Given how badly she moved as Rachel in One Tree Hill, I call false in the gymnastics claim. We’ve heard her sing—she can’t sing, period. Never seen her play the piano.

There have been claims that she has a degree in beat-poetry from University of Louisiana. She is not listed as an alumni and the timing does not work. I also call false that.

Elta has tried to create a jewelry line with Limbo Jewelry to create a line called Link. Near as I can tell, that jewelry line has never sold out and has not sold well. Supposedly it was meant as a benefit for Creative Action, an Austin-based charity aimed at foster youth-development projects. It has barely raised much, only $30,000.

Elta has four tattoos. A matching tattoo with Hilarie, which says “Mischief”, that she got at Hilarie’s wedding. A shark tattoo on her butt. An arrow on her left arm in honor of her children, and some kind of “robe-woman” who resembles a muse on her right arm.

She photographed for Maxim’s “Hot 100” list several times.

Supposedly, she is still friends with Hilarie Burton Morgan and Bevin Price.

She claimed she fell in love with Jensen during filming of Ten Inch Hero. They apparently drove back and forth, car pooled, really, to and from set and struck up a deeper conversation. Jensen once claimed he gave her a note that said “Not now, someday” as by that time, Elta was engaged to Riley Smith, Jensen’s friend.

Evidently, she didn’t even tell Riley what happened. She just packed up her things and moved out from their shared apartment, no break-up talk, nothing. Riley is now very happy she did that, given the crappy way she broke up with him. The best thing he got out of that relationship, he once claimed, was the guitar he was gifted with.

Jensen kept mum on the relationship for a long while. He had dated Joanna Krupa at one point, and Tania Saulnier. He was rumored, at one point, to have been with LeAnn Rimes (she herself said that was false) and Jessica Simpson (never been mentioned).

His revelation that he was dating came as a surprise—and almost no one knew who she was. When his engagement was announced on JustJared, no one knew he was dating or still dating her. The timing of said engagement had always been suspicious, given it was practically a week after Jared proposed to Genevieve.

Jensen claimed later that Elta gave him an ultimatum and that she hadn’t known he was going to propose.

I believe it was because seeing Jared get engaged meant the gay rumors would focus solely on him and he didn’t want to deal with that. Plus, suspected he had to “settle down”, so Elta was his “Okay, I guess she’ll do” girl. Not the girl of his dreams.

She likely tailored herself to what he wanted as she knew him for years prior to that.

Not to mention a rather quick engagement to wedding (six months; most usually do a year! Perhaps because Jared’s was set and they wanted to compete—or rather, Elta did).

Oh, Elta’s career kept puttering along. Some attempts were made, and all failed. No, I don’t think it’s because she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom either. Her career just didn’t take off; she’s a horrible actress with a childish voice that is clearly faked.

Her most recent role was a ‘gift’ from Hilarie. A pity gift.

And honestly, she’s not even a stay-at-home mom. She has nannies, a housekeepr, a gardener, possibly more help than most single parents or stay-at-home parents have. She’s unrelatable. She’s achieved nothing beyond being Jensen Ackles’ wife.

I’d pity her, if it weren’t obvious Jensen is scared of her. (He’s said: “I’m not suicidal, I’m getting out of her way”; called her “Scary Spice”; has stated more than once that he defers to her because he has to; said their marriage works better when they’re apart.)

#anti danneel #anti elta

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