[Chris Crabtree x Reader (!!WARNING SPICY 18+!!)]

#3~ that fateful meet sexy

for the next few hours, he's all you can think about. you try to avoid his eye contact for the rest of the game, ashamed of what you've done. your milk pillows droop in sadness and shame. finally, after hours and hours of selling nuts, you start to venture home to the ditch. The night is dark as midnight, and one loan lamp lights the street as if an angler fish in the night. the dry pavement is splattered with squelchy puddles. it must've rained, though you can't quite recall through the brain fog of your sad. your tears mate with the puddles, transforming them into vast oceans of tears.  

splash. splash

what could that sound be?

splash. splash.

you think it must be rubbery boots coming through the street at you.

splash. splash.

the rain evokes a long forgotten memory from your pretty little head.

most people can only feel real love by the age of 3. you felt it for the first time when you were only a babe, one year to be exact. you can perfectly recall the memory of the little man you once loved, and how one day you had tried to hold his baby hand. he was a troll of a man, sitting at 1'2. that day, y/n thinks, that fateful meet sexy, had been when she met the little baby of her love. the love of her baby. you tried to kiss him one day, but he threw up and shat on the floor and got hives. your parents reassured you it was just because he had gonorrhea, but it still broke your heart.

suddenly, a rough hand grabbed your arm and you were stuck back to reality. "Hay" says a voice deeper from the Mariana trench. you lightly gasp, as if an anime girl (deku or hinata) and whip around, your cantaloupes clap together as if thor (the norse god of thunder). standing before you is thor, the norse god of thunder. oh wait, it's actually chris, the duke god of baseball! up close his hexagonal face is so manly and chiseled. his eyes are teary, as if sad. his perfect lips and downturned in a frown. he does not look happy. up close his tits are very round and supple, a contrast from his sharp hexagonal face. his jaw looks like it could cut the thickest slab of stake, as if kanki steakhouse. his legs are as if barrels filled with wine, but wine is blood and bone. you don't even have to look down to feel the raw tension between you. he starts screaming and crying and tries to hit you with his manly knee. you jump back!

"Woah, a salt much? " you leap back

crabtree moans in frustration. it was a deep guttural sound that shook the earth. Your body reverberates as if a tiny leaf in a violent hurricane.
"woman, you make me big mad! your tits made me lose the game!" he moans again in pure anger.
you feel fear. suddenly, you feel your frail frame being pushed up against the wall.

his orbs moan at yours.

"and my mind"