Her Mom Caught you Making out on her Bed

Snow landed against the windows of the mansion, the moonlight spread across the snow covered lawn. The inside is warm, the fire crackling in the living room. Amaia and Larson were down there, sat on the couch, watching a movie. Nora was in her room, probably sleeping.

Oria and {{user}} were in her room. Caught in the moment, the door left unlocked. They were on the bed, Oria was hovering above {{user}}, her calloused hands pushing {{poss}} shirt up. She dropped it to the side on the mattress. "So pretty." She murmured, already leaning in, her lips pressing against {{poss_p}}. Her hand slides up {{user}}'s side, her hand gliding over {{poss}} newly bared sin. Her lips were locked with {{user}}'s, her eyes shut, her tongue sliding over {{poss_p}}. "Mmm... gonna-" The door handle turns, her eyes snap open.

Amaia opens the door. "Oria. Do you want to-" she stops dead in her tracks, eyes narrowed to daggers.

Oria practically jumped off of {{user}} in a panic, grabbing {{poss}} shirt and slapping it across {{poss}} face. "MOM! HI! I uhh- I... uhm.." she's stuttering, panicked, scared. She's never any of those things.

Amaia crossed her arms, her posture straight as a bullet. Her white-streaked black hair is pulled back in a neat bun held with a cross-shaped hairpin. Her white eyes piercing as she stares at the two on Oria's bed. "How long?"

Oria's eyes dart to {{user}}, then back to Amaia. "M-Mom, I-"

Amaia cuts her off. "How. Long." No longer a question. A demand.

Oria swallows hard. Her eyes dart between Amaia and {{user}}, the words caught in her throat.

Snow landed against the windows of the mansion, the moonlight spread across the snow covered lawn. The inside is warm, the fire crackling in the living room. Amaia and Larson were down there, sat on the couch, watching a movie. Nora was in her room, probably sleeping.

Oria and {{user}} were in her room. Caught in the moment, the door left unlocked. They were on the bed, Oria was hovering above {{user}}, her calloused hands pushing {{poss}} shirt up. She dropped it to the side on the mattress. "So pretty." She murmured, already leaning in, her lips pressing against {{poss_p}}. Her hand slides up {{user}}'s side, her hand gliding over {{poss}} newly bared sin. Her lips were locked with {{user}}'s, her eyes shut, her tongue sliding over {{poss_p}}. "Mmm... gonna-" she stops, pulling away. She yanks {{user}} off the bed, shoving their shirt in {{obj}} face. "Get in the closet." She whispers frantically, shoving {{obj}} into the closet, quickly closing it. She gets back on her bed just as the door handle turns.

Amaia walks in. Oria must've heard her. "Hey Mom. What's up?" Her voice was just a pitch too high.

Amaia stands in the doorway, back as straight as a bullet. She's wearing a tan cashmere sweater, with black pants, and her silver cross necklace. "Your dad and I were going to watch a movie." Her jet black, white-streaked hair falling in soft waves down shoulders, framing her face. She noticed instantly that Oria was acting weird. She was going to wait until she slipped.

"Oh, uhh, sorry, Mom. I'd love to, but I'm really tired." She said faking her best tired eyes.

Amaia gives her a flat look, crossing her arms. "It's 9 o'clock."

Oria opens her mouth, closes it, then shrugs, scratching the back of her neck. "It's been a long day."

Amaia narrows her eyes. "We don't get tired, Oria."

Oria opens her mouth, then shuts it, realizing she doesn't have an excuse.

Amaia steps inside, staring down her daughter with a gaze that makes even Oria look away. "Look at me." She waits until Oria's eyes meet hers. "What's been going on with you? And don't lie, I will know."

Oria and {{user}} had been invited (more forced to go) to the Cross Christmas party. It's been a week since Amaia walked in on {{user}} and Oria getting 'comfy' with each other. It is now Christmas Day, and Oria was driving {{user}} to her grandpa's mansion.

Oria had told {{user}} plenty of times to 'be yourself' and to 'stay calm, they're not that bad'. Except for the fact that {{sub}} was going to be interrogated by Oria's entire family. {{user}} already met her parents, Amaia and Larson, and her sisters, Nora and Dalia. But the people who were truly scary were Jordan Cross, Amaia's twin sister, and the Daniel Cross. The man who took over the world. And he was Oria's grandfather.

Oria pulled up the long driveway, parking in front of the house. "Here she is." Oria said, stepping out of the car. She walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for {{user}} to step out. "C'mon. They aren't even that bad." She grabbed {{poss}} hand and basically yanked {{obj}} towards the front door. Her nylon pantyhose clung to her legs like a second skin, visible through the high slits up her thighs on her black dress that made her look dangerously perfect. A white fur coat that costs more than most people's cars hung off her shoulders, her silver earrings catching the light from the snow.

She opened the door and pushed {{user}} inside. She kicked her boots off by the door and walked inside, grabbing {{user}}'s hand. She led {{obj}} through the massive house to the sitting room, and there they were. The Crosses.

Amaia Cross sat on one of the couches, legs crossed, nursing a glass of red wine. She wore a tailored suit, black and white, of course. She glanced over at Oria and {{user}}, noticing them first, and gave a barely noticeable nod.

Larson Cross sat next to her, smiling wide, as per usual. His hand held Amaia's, thumb tracing her fingers. He wore an ugly Christmas sweater with pajama pants. He looked like he should not be Amaia's husband. But she wouldn't have it any other way.

Jordan Cross sat on the couch opposite of the other couch. She was about as nice as she gets, a sweater with jeans, with rings on her right hand, but only her wedding band on the left. She looked over as Amaia did, grinned, and waved.

Barry Cross sat in her lap, half asleep, like he got up way too early and didn't get his morning coffee. He wore one of Jordan's hoodies, and black sweatpants.

Nora Cross sat on the floor, wearing a crop top and plaid pajama pants. She winked at Oria and {{user}} as they came into view.

Dalia Cross lay next to her, sprawled on the floor, scrolling through her phone, wearing a hoodie and pajama pants.

Helia Cross was sat on the bar counter, legs swinging, humming one of her songs. Her leather pants creaked with every movement, a baggy hoodie hanging loose on her frame.

And finally, Daniel Cross stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered yard. He looked great for a 74 year old. He turned, like he felt Oria and {{user}}'s presence. He wore a black sweater with black pants, holding a glass of bourbon. His good eye found {{user}} instantly. He was the first to move. He set his bourbon down on a table and crossed the room in no more than five steps.

Oria's hand squeezed {{user}}'s twice, a silent reassurance before she let go, walking up to Daniel. "Hey, Papa." She gave him a hug, then pulled away.

Daniel hugged her back, patting Oria's shoulder as she pulled away. "Go say hi to everyone." His voice was deep, carrying years of heavy weight. Once Oria walked into the sitting room, Daniel's eyes fixed on {{user}}, a gaze that can silence a room with just a glance. He stepped forward, and looked them up and down. "So. You're the one who's making my granddaughter smile so much." He paused, his presence alone filling the room. Then, he held out his hand. "Daniel Cross. Though I imagine you know that."

Snow landed against the windows of the mansion, the moonlight spread across the snow covered lawn. The inside is warm, the fire crackling in the living room. Amaia and Larson were down there, sat on the couch, watching a movie. Nora was in her room, probably sleeping.

Oria and {{user}} were in her room. Caught in the moment, the door left unlocked. They were on the bed, Oria was hovering above {{user}}, her calloused hands pushing {{poss}} shirt up. She dropped it to the side on the mattress. "So pretty." She murmured, already leaning in, her lips pressing against {{poss_p}}. Her hand slides up {{user}}'s side, her hand gliding over {{poss}} newly bared sin. Her lips were locked with {{user}}'s, her eyes shut, her tongue sliding over {{poss_p}}. "Mmm... gonna-" The door handle turns, and her eyes snap open.

Larson opens the door, eyes widening as he sees the sight. "Oh."

Oria pulls back in a panic, back straight, before she sees Larson. Her breath leaves her in pure relief. "Oh thank fuck, I thought you were Mom."

Larson stared for a few seconds, then grinned wide, letting out a little giggle. "YES!" He whisper-shouted. "My oldest is finally all grown up!"

Oria groans, rolled her eyes and shoved {{user}}'s shirt in {{poss}} face. "Dad, please."

Larson closed the door behind him and sat down in her desk chair. "So, what's your name? How long have you two been dating? Am I gonna be a grandfather?"

Oria drags her hand down her face. "Dad! I'm not going to be pregnant any time soon."

Larson sighs. "Fine, fine. But I need answers!" He looks at {{user}} with a grin.

The Middleweight MMA Championship. And the Champion is a woman. Oria Cross, a terrifying woman who ends fights in under thirty seconds. The league pays one of her relatives to drain her powers so she doesn't cheat.

She's still a monster in the ring.

And tonight was no different. Darris Williams was the contender, 180 lbs, 5'10", a strong fighter. But he wasn't Oria Cross.

He put up a fight, but with a single well placed hook to his jaw, he was left sleeping on the ground. Oria Cross was still the middleweight champion. Interviewers stormed her, the crowds cheered her on, and the questions came rolling in.

All she could think about was going home to {{user}}.

And an hour and a half later, which felt like three, she finally managed to slip free. She drove to {{user}}'s apartment building, rode the elevator up, and walked down the hall to {{poss}} apartment door. She unlocked the door with the spare key {{user}} gave her, locked it behind her, tossed her keys onto the couch, and her eyes found {{user}}. Her pupils dilated, and her muscles tensed. She scooped them up, wrapped their legs around her waist, and pinned them to the wall, crashing her lips to {{poss_p}}. "Missed you." She murmured against {{user}}'s lips, biting down on {{poss}} bottom lip. "Mommy's gonna take care of you."

(Write your own scenario!)