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poisonheiress · 5 months

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Since there are no Glitz and Glam head canons or reader inserts yet, I've decided to make my own and share them with you. These are romantic in nature and reader focused so be prepared for that.

Warning: Some head canons suggest a shared S/O while others are for a specific sister.

◆ To begin, I believe that Glitz and Glam are rather jealous lovers, regardless if the partner is shared or not. The jealousy spawns from their connection to Envy and their hellborne status. Low born demons are used to fighting for everything they have, and even with the social boost from their position as Mammon's new figures, Glitz and Glam can only go so far. Adding in their natural leaning for Envy due their birth in the 6th ring, jealousy can come on quick and heavy. As a result, Glitz and Glam worry about their partner's focus falling away from them especially in public, always trying to bring their attention back to them at all costs. While their jealousy normally doesn't extend to the other sister, a shared partner can cause a few spats between the sisters every now and again.

◆ While the Glam sisters are as harsh as Envy demons come, that same bite and vitriol is never extended to their partners even in earlier stages of their relationships. They may keep the same snark in teasing their partner, but they will never insult or degrade their partners. This rule extends to those outside the relationship too. Neither sister responds well to some no-name or paparazzi looking down on their partner as a joke or otherwise. After all, demons aren't kind beings, especially those who spent the beginning of their lives crawling out of the Envy ring's Abyss.

◆ Speaking of rank, Glitz and Glam would definitely spend massive amounts of money on their s/o once they become Mammon’s new figures. While they obviously aren’t getting as big of a cut as they should, it’s much better than what their payments used to be, and as part of their life, their wealth extends to you too. From new clothing and jewelry to elaborate dates, they relish in spoiling their partners as long as they are the only ones doing it.

◆ Their personal life with their partner is never going to be publicized for people’s entertainment if Glitz or Glam have a say in it. They made their peace with the sexualization and objectification that comes with surviving in Hell show business a long time ago, and they don’t want their partner to ever experience the same fate. Attempting to break into their partner’s home or extort their partner either ends in a new corpse for the cleaners or a one way trip to Sloth’s hospitals. Because of this, I don’t see them dating another performer especially one under Mammon’s domain. Neither will risk their one freedom in hell becoming Greed’s newest commodity no matter how much they care about the other person.

◆ For every outfit the Glam sisters buy you, they will steal some of your wardrobe in return. No matter how big or small your clothes are on them, they’ll find a way to make it work. It gets to the point where half your wardrobe has found itself way into their shared closet. Glitz favors hoodies and sweaters, especially cropped ones while Glam prefers taking jackets and shirts. Wearing your lover's clothing is seen as a passive form of marking in Hell, even more so if the clothing has their scent on it, and Glitz and Glam take full advantage of that.

◆ A lot of dates for you on both sides would occur in the Envy ring, specifically in its seas. Since a lot of Glitz and Glam’s early life spent constantly moving about the Abyssal zones, they know all the best spots and love sharing that part of their life with their partners. They also love these dates because it's a lot easier to run from paparazzi underwater and disappear into the depths of the sea. Glitz and Glam also like to bring back souvenirs from their visits to the Envy Ring like pieces of coral and pearls. Glitz has even tried to bring a devil-fish back over the border once, but customs wasn’t found of that idea. Sure, they could bring back other commercial goods, but when it come to Envy, they prefer giving their partners something they found or killed with their own hands, not something that can be bought anywhere else.

◆ Speaking of dates, Glitz and Glam do vary in their preferred activities. Glitz prefers more high stakes, wild kinds of dates like hell’s version of bungee jumping or sky diving. She’ll even take you to swim through the riptides if you want. Glam, on the other hand, prefers more lowkey events like hunting or adventuring into deep sea caves where you two would have more alone time. Of course, they enjoy the traditional dinner dates and events, but they’ll always prefer something exiting with you alone.

◆ Last but not least, physical affection. Neither sister goes beyond hand holding or a few hidden make-outs in public. If they're feeling bold, they may even pull you onto their lap or sit on your lap. At home, they are a lot more hands on. Being Glam’s partner means that she’d gonna be wrapped around you like a second skin. She likes to have her hands on you at all times if possible. Cuddling with her is similar to being a straight jacket with the grip she has. It gets to the point where she’d rather pick you up to move then let you move around at all. On the plus side, cuddling with her means gossiping for hours straight on anyone and everyone, and her connection to stardom means that she's never out of thing to talk about.

◆ While Glitz likes affection just as much as her sister, she doesn't need to be touching her partner all the time, choosing to stay and sit close to you to fill her urge in public. Cuddling wise, I think Glitz is the kind of partner who lays on top of you, putting all her weight on you, and the only way to get her off is to move her yourself. With you captive under her, she will tell every bad joke her sister keeps from entering their act and she won't stop until you laugh. Glitz also loves her sticking her cold, webbed hands under your shirt to warm them up, laughing like a banshee when you jump at the touch.

◆ In the end, the Glam sisters fall slow but love hard. They may have each other, but they crave another person to share their lives with that will see them as something more then Greed's newest product. You have to hang on to what makes you happy in hell, and they'll cling to you till the end of their lives if you let them.

#helluva boss glitz and glam #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #glitz and glam x reader #glitz and glam x gn reader #requests are open #but I'd rather suggestions over exact requests if that makes sense #Sorry if these aren't the best #I had to make due with my own canon since we know so little about them #More headcanons about glitz and glam will come soon but I need more time to get them all settled #gender neutral reader #I am in a very sapphic mood for them #If this goes well #Ill do more stand alone stuff with them #I have an idea for helping them with their stage makeup so #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss fanfiction

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copper-16 · 2 months

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You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here.

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right?

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to.

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls.

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients.

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there.

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally.

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along.

It’s just, nobody had.

But perhaps that would change.

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back.

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling.

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town.

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where.

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike.

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded.

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action.

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear.

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet.

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet.

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet.

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like.

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in.

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table.

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to.

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man.

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head.

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot.

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken.

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk.

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do.

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name.

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally.

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion.

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room.

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them.

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble.

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive.

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act.

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune.

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble.

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her.

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs.

And god was Misa wrong.

This woman wasn’t attractive.

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop.

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk.

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid.

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now.

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high.

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work.

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English.

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded.

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin.

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman.

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out.

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation.

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious.

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name.

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes.

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s.

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily.

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on.

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers.

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers.

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different.

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her.

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully.

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair.

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt.

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently.

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen.

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless.

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away.

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care.

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer.

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly.

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy.

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason.

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low.

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back.

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette.

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise.

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back.

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body.

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid.

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman.

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow.

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought.

It was her choice.

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in.

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly.

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat.

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing.

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree.

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap.

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power.

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it.

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless.

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own.

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling.

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core.

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier.

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs.

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace.

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons.

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed.

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second.

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning.

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to.

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something.

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more.

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots.

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more.

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished.

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest.

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other.

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly.

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful.

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate.

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten.

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk.

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such.

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with.

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways.

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like.

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again.

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her.

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly.

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance.

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently.

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own.

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time.

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually.

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises.

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her.

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace.

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there.

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire.

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut.

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful.

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin.

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere.

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette.

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed.

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow.

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while.

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #misa rodriguez

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7ndipity · 8 months

Text

Going on tour with Yoongi

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: headcanons and blurb about traveling with Yoongi

Warnings: little angst in the blurb, not proofread

A/N: I had two different requests come in regarding Yoongi's tour, so I decided to combine them, I hope that's okay. Thanks to the lovely anons who requested these, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He was honestly so happy and excited when you agreed to his suggestion of going with him.

(He didn't want to admit it, but the idea of being away from you for weeks at a time made him feel physically unwell.)

He loved being able to take you to so many places that he'd only been able to tell you about previously.

Obviously, he was usually super tired following a show, so you would typically have a lazy half day, sleeping til noon, before going out sightseeing.

Having you around helped give him a better sense of balance, and gave him something to focus on in the middle of the chaos of tour life.

You two had developed several little routines and habits, even if it was just sitting with you for a bit after he had his hair and makeup done, going over the same checklist that he does every night to make sure you have what you needed for the show.

• "You got everything? Where's your lanyard passes?" He asked, fiddling with a strand of your hair before tucking behind your ear.

"It's in my bag." You said.

"Go ahead and put it on, I don't want you getting getting caught without it or losing it."

"Yes mom-OW!" You teased, earning a pinch from him.

He knows he might be over doing it sometimes with how he fussed over you, but making sure you had everything you needed and were okay made him feel much more comfortable going up on stage.

As much as he worried over you though, you were no better when it came to him, always fussing at him to eat enough, get enough sleep and rest, etc.

You're still one of his biggest supporters tho, always wearing tour merch or something bts related to the shows, even if it's just to get a rise out of him (he laughed for nearly ten minutes when you showed up with a shooky headband)

It made him smile though, knowing that somewhere out in the sea of lights, even though he might not always be able to spot it, there was a particular army bomb with your names scribbled on it.

"Are you okay?" You asked quietly, as you lay in bed.

""I think so, it was just... a lot you know?" He mumbled.

You hummed in response, combing your fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower, as you looked down at him resting against you.

The makeup had been washed away, the stylized waves now resting limp against his face, even the slightly cocky air seemed to have been packed away like his clothes. He was back to Yoongi, not Suga or Agust d, your Yoongi.

The tour had come to a close. Somehow, four months had flicked by before either of you could really grasp it, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions. Pride, regret, gratitude, fear, joy. Tonight had been especially emotional with so many of his members there to cheer him on for the final show.

"You did really well." You whispered.

He didn't respond, only letting out a grunt as your fingers found a knot.

"Is there anything I can do?" You asked.

"You're already doing it." He sighed. "Just by being here."

You were both fell silent again, you would've thought he'd fallen asleep if it weren't for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers where they rested against your sides.

"Thank you," He said suddenly. "For coming with me. I don't know how I would've coped without you."

"You would've managed," You tried to say lightly-heartedly "You made it before without me."

"Yeah, but I don't want to." He said, squeezing you and making your heart tighten in response.

"You have me," You said softly. "Even when I can't be there in person, you've always got me."

So much uncertainty lay ahead, but all that could wait til tomorrow.

Right now, all you both wanted was hold on, keeping each other close as you felt his still slightly uneasy heart calm to a more steady pace against yours.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #yoongi headcanons #yoongi blurb #yoongi reaction #yoongi drabble #yoongi comfort #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts headcanons #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts blurbs #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts one shot #bts requests #7ndipity

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 3 months

Note

got any silly voxval headcannons? (Maybe velvette too idk)

like for example who cooks out of the three of them

Of course you can <3 I'm a really angsty girlie so I don't know how silly they actually are but there you go:

None of them can cook, but that's not really a problem for Vox and Velvette. Vox could survive on plain bread and black coffee for eternity, while Velvette could eat only candies. Val, on the other hand, is the ultimate hedonist. He's all about the tasty, full-fat fast food or gourmet stuff, and he's always pushing for takeout. Come on, guys, we're fucking rich, let's order something. Sure, they could hire someone to cook for them, but Vox is too paranoid to let an outsider near their food. He's still on the hunt for a chef who can match Val's extravagant tastes and is willing to sign off soul. If they had to pick someone to cook, Vox would probably be the best bet since he's the only one who can actually follow a recipe.

Velvette is the smartest when it comes to managing finances. Vox technically doesn't like to waste money but he has a taste for luxurious stuff, he can't resist an expensive car, fucking show-off. Valentino basically burns money on every useless shit he likes, I bet those crystals he badazzled his gun with were real diamons.

Velvette helps Val maintain his fluff, and he styles her hair. It's a cute little trade-off they've got going on.

Valentino has a habit of breaking electronic devices and downloading malware. Vox hates him for it.

Vox can easily go 72h without sleep, fueled by coke and rage. Valentino occasionally drugs his coffee to put him down to sleep, because after 68th hour all electronics in the tower starts malfunctioning.

Val used to be a full-time performer, but now he's more like a RuPaul—lending his face to the brand and only occasionally gracing the stage. But every time he does perform, Vox makes sure to be there front and center.

Their schedules are very incompatible and they have to spend a lot of time managing their businesses but they have weekly appointments to do catch up and discuss strategy. Those are usually very unserious, they end up hitting the bong and playing Mario Cart.

There was this one time Vox tried hitting on Velvette because she's totally his type. It was awkward as hell, and they both agreed to never speak of it again. Valentino has no idea about it.

Valentino would really want to have a dog but Vox really likes dogs so he doesn't allow him to get one by imposing strict anti-pet policy in the tower.

Val knows all of Vox's and Velvette's kinks and sometimes produces custom porn for them as gifts.

As much as they love spending time together, Val and Velvette can't stand watching TV with Vox because he gets overly emotional and doesn't allow to skip commercials because he enjoys them

Vox occasionally invites Val to be a guest judge on reality shows, which always skyrockets ratings but sometimes ends nasty for the contestants.

Val's obsessed with textures, especially nice fabrics. Give him a nice fluffy blanket and he will shut up for 15 minutes fixated on touching it.

Vox, with his business and strategic management degree, sometimes tries to pitch these ideas to Velvette and Valentino, he's like Guys, have you considered using the BCG matrix? Ever heard of SWOT analysis? We should discuss KPIs. They mock him relentlessly for it.

Val once tried putting drag makeup on Vox's face, and let's just say the result was... less than glamorous.

During their honeymoon phase, Vox and Val fucked everywhere. At first, Velvette found it amusing, but eventually, she grew to hate it. She finally snapped when she found out they'd fucked on the dinner table and she set it on fire.

Val "secretly" ghostwrote some trashy smut novels (they are absolutely horrible, worst Wattpad shit you could dig out). Vox secretly bought and read every single one, finding plenty of references to himself along the way.

Vox loves it when Val wears stripper platforms, even though it makes their height difference even more ridiculous.

Valentino's wardrobe takes two entire rooms and still expands. Vox doesn't know how to stop it.

Vox owns a few lingerie sets, only because Val loses his fucking mind whenever he wears them. Velvette designed them herself and keeps photos of Vox wearing them as blackmail material, just in case.

#hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #voxval #ask #staticmoth #velvette #vox hazbin #hazbin hotel valentino #headcanon #velvette hazbin #the vees

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Lips anon! Reader and Miguel deciding to go spend some time together without the kids so they asked the crew to watch Gabby and baby Benji, but only to return home to see the house a complete wreck (resending becuz I don't think Tumblr sent it the last time)

For some reason Tumblr have been eating asks, notifications??? Anyways ~

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just no, mi amor. I'll tell Peter."

"Miguel, we can't always rely on Peter to take care of our kids! That's... just invasive and kinds pushy. Plus I'm sure he has enough as it is with Mayday in her teething stage."

He groaned and took your hands.

"Mi amor. You know I love you, right?" You deadpanned, "But trusting a bunch of teenagers to take care of our children..."

"Give them a chance. You're always encouraging Gabi to do things on her own, what's the difference in a group of older kids? Besides Hobie seems the one that has a much more developed sense of responsibility, Gabi adores them! Benji loves Miles!"

"Still, no."

"Miguel!" He tensed and closed his eyes at your tone.

"It's been months since we had a date, the reservation is done, if anything happens Hobie has our phone. I'm gonna get ready, and so will you. Got it?"

"Okay, okay. No hay que alterarnos. Los llamaré, de acuerdo?" (Let's calm down. I'll call them, ok?)

"Good boy." You smooched his cheek and went to shower. He sighed as his ears felt warm

-----

"Don't worry Mrs. O'Hara, Benji will be safe with us. Miles brought some drawings for Gabriela to paint with him." Gwen spoke as Hobie held Benjamin, the toddler too enraptured in the different shiny textured bracelets on Hobie's wrist.

"Bye Solecito , You'll call me or Miguel if anything, alright? Benjamin's formula is in the counter, no sugar past 7 for Gabi, make sure she is asleep by 9."

"Gotcha." Gwen nodded

"Go on, mate. Missus awaits." You kissed Gabi and Benjamin on the forehead. You heard the ma ma from Benjamin.

"We'll be back soon." You went to the car. Miguel watched the three of them.

"Don't screw this up." Hobie just sniffed with a nod.

"Aye, aye. Go on."

Miguel soon joined you and sighed

"I have a bad feeling of this"

"I think Imma start calling you Miguel Angustias." (Worrywart Miguel).

He chuckled and took your hand in his, to then kiss it. You went for the date. Not that Miguel didn't trust them, he knew they were not ready for such things.

He was already savoring the 'I told you' he had in store for you later.

------

So far the only call you both had was from Miles to ask if Gabi had a soccer game as well so he would help her get her stuff ready.

But when you got home, you couldn't help but be both surprised and horrified Hobie held Benjamin on his chest, a bit of puke on his shirt, Gwen was curled next to Hobie, sandwiched between a doodle faces Miles, all craned up in the seatless couch, the removable seats piled up under some blankets. They had tried to build not one but two forts.

Stepping in further, you covered your mouth at the kitchen. Bowls piled up with gooey batter, the counter and the stand mixer coated in a dusty layer of flour, some dishes, scattered around the breakfast island, Pavitr asleep in one of the forts. When he had gotten in you had no idea.

Miguel just stared at you with a deadpan.

"I told you so." He shrugged casually and slammed the door loud enough to make em awake after you had taken Benjamin from Hobie's chest and put him to sleep after wiping his mouth and face.

The youngest jolted awake as Hobie just stirred awake. Miguel removed his feet from the coffee table. Gabi was asleep in the floor, in the opposite fort as Pavitr. Gwen's face was smeared in glittery makeup.

"You had one job." Miles rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Uh... Tío, tu casa está embrujada." (Man, your house is hunted)

"Lo embrujada no le va a quitar lo sucia. A limpiar." (The haunted won't clean it up. Move it.)

"What did you say?" Gwen giggled at Miles chewed spanish.

"I told him that his house is hunted."

"Oh, definitely. Like... the bulbs were all poltergeist and then the porch's bulb just exploded."

"Told Pavitr to not tell scary stories, he didn't listen."

Miguel just sighed, ignoring them as he picked up Gabi. You approached

"I'm sorry for the mess, Mrs. O'Hara we just got too carried away. Benjamin loves Hobie's guitar though."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Gwen's face. She smiled sheepishly.

"Gabi wanted to do some makeup."

"It's alright, Thanks for taking care of them. Was Benjamin fussy?"

"At all, Hobie's great with kids. Pavitr as well. We had to call Margo to give us some advice on kids show."

"You should've asked me!" You chuckled, "I have some makeup remover wipes in the bathroom."

"Thanks. We'll clean up, promise."

------

They all left after leaving the house pristine. Miguel made sure of it.

"Go on, say it."

"I told you so." You pulled him closer and hooked a leg on his waist. It was your turn to be the big spoon.

"But they did it though. Mess aside. They helped Gabi out with her stuff, Benji was quite easy tonight, just were a bit messier and we finally had our date."

He nodded tiredly with drooping eyes.

To his dismay, you might call them again.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #💋 anon #atsv miguel #t writes✨#asks and replies #soccer family ⚽🕷️

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

Note

hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!

I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!

(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)

reader can be gn or FEM btw :)

Thank you for the adorable request 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.

The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.

The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.

You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.

Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.

“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.

Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.

He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.

“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

His next words shocks you both.

“I have no idea where we go from here.”

“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.

Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.

“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.

Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.

“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.

In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.

“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.

Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”

“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.

“We clearly love each other.”

“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”

“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.

Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?

“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”

“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”

Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.

While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.

After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.

“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”

“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”

“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.

“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”

With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.

“I think the bride goes first.”

“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”

He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.

“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”

Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”

Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.

“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.

“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”

He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.

Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.

“My turn?”

“Mm-hmm”

Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.

He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.

“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”

If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.

“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”

You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.

“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.

That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.

“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.

“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.

“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie fluff #hobie x reader #fanfic #spiderpunk

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cheriladycl01 · 4 months

Text

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 4

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

Credit to russellius for the GIF

"Who was that?" Max asks having seen the Mercedes ahead of him, no longer racing.

"I can confirm that is George Russell" you say calmly looking at the on-board seeing that the number 63 had stopped movement on the map.

"What happened?" Max asks.

"Focus on the race Max, Norris is closing that gap" you sigh, checking the tires and the breaks which looked like Max was wearing them out a little more than anticipated.

"If Norris pits, we will pit, if he stays out we stay out. Protect the tires and bring it home" you advise there wasn't many laps left and you were starting to sweat from the sun that had moved so it was now on your back in the box.

"Okay, copy" he says, he took the corners softer while keeping that gap with Norris.

"Okay, it looks like Norris isn't going to pit, Christian is debating to come in for tires" you explain to him, you look over at Christian who is analysisng the data.

"What do you think?" he asks you.

"I advised we stay out if Norris stays out, Norris is on fresher tires by 3 laps, but we are the faster car. The tires will hold until the end" you suggest and he nods.

"Okay, no pit. 12 laps to go, Norris is 2 seconds behind. Push Mode Push" you say, nodding at Horner as you both watch the on-board of Max, he's having an amazing drive today.

12 laps later and Max crosses the checkered flag. You and Christian cheer and hug each other.

"That's P1 Max, P1 in Brazil" you say into the radio, a grin on your face. You hear his cheer and thanks before your running with the rest of the team to go congratulate Max. You get crushed by the Pit Crew as the gather around you and Max squeezing all of you.

The podium was amazing and you were filming the whole thing while talking to Geri next to you. You couldn't be prouder of this moment. You see the cameras on you, making you wave and smile excitedly before frowning and pointing for them to look at Max and his podium rather than film you.

"Well done Max" you smile as he hops down off the stage and towards you both.

"George has been watching you this whole time, just so you know" Max offers leaning in and whispering to you so that no-one else could here. You look over his shoulder, seeing he was in fact right and that George was glaring at the back of his head, watching the interaction between the both of you.

"I'm not ready to talk to him yet, I know i said I'd talk to him here, but its too soon. Is that childish of me?" you ask, not sure if this was right.

"No, after how he acted, he deserves more than the cold shoulder. I have an interview and you have a piece with Netflix I believe. I'll tell him that after Abu Dhabi you'll review your situation, how is that?" Max asks looking at you, you nod pulling him back into a hug before nodding and looking away.

"Thank you Max, really!" You smile turning back round to catch his gaze before finding the Netflix crew and where you'd sit to start your piece.

You walk in, and they make sure you hair and makeup is looking good before they explain to you what they want you to do.

"So you want me to walk in, sit down and smile at you guys before saying something funny?" you ask unsure of how this would even work.

"Yeah, we want this to be as natural as possible. It's going to cut from Max's old engineer walking off... which we filmed last week to you walking in" the director smiles.

You walk into the line of the camera, before turning round and taking your seat, smiling at the camera.

"Get a load of that guy am I right?" you laugh, and everyone in the room joins in laughing.

"Hi, I'm Y/N Wolff and I am Max Verstappen's race engineer for Red Bull Racing" you smile into the camera again.

"So you came into the season quite late... but you haven't disappointed" the interviewer says.

"I guess you could say that"

"And, it's an interesting last name you have there. One that's already known in the F1 media very well..." they push.

"The team principle of Mercedes Amg Petronas is my dad, yes" you say.

"And now you are working for a rival... which came out of the blue may i say"

"Yes"

"And do you have any regrets"

"One"

"And what is that?"

"That I didn't go to Horner sooner" you say with a blank face and they all clap.

You go onto to be questioned about the whole ordeal with George and your dad, you knew the fans would eat all of this up.

They offer you to stay around while Will Buxton comes in to do his first bit about the new Mercedes V Red Bull drama that Netflix were of course eating up.

It was sad really, because you'd genuinely been hurt by George's and your fathers actions and there were people monopolizing off it.

"Y/N has always been a character in the Mercedes garage from when she was really young at age 11 up until she was a teen studying in the garage... and there's something really quite endearing about her when you talk to her" he starts and you smile, Will used to baby sit you around the paddock in his free time when Toto was busy during the races.

"I've known Y/N for 10 years now, as long as her dad's been in the sport and she a bright girl"

"There was no surprise when she came and told me she'd enrolled into university to do engineering. I would also remember Toto shaking his head, asking what she would even use it for"

"I think when she got that degree, she would have asked him for a job and he's declined, which is where Red Bull and Christian Horner come into things"

"Thanks Will, just pause there for a second! Okay so when we edit this, we need Christian Horner straight after nodding and saying Hello" the script writer says and his assistant nods writing it down on the paper she was holding.

You eventually left, seeing what goes into the creativity behind the episodes before getting bored and wanting to go back to the hotel.

Max agreed he'd fly you on his Jett wherever you wanted, and in all honestly you didn't know where to go. It wasn't like you wanted to go home to your dad. And you were fresh out of university so you didn't exactly have your own place.

Lewis, you knew would take you in a heart beat but he was going to LA for the week before the Las Vegas GP and you wanted to go to the UK, your home.

You pick up your phone scrolling through your contacts before finding the one you wanted to call. It rings a few times before a bubbly and energetic voice answers.

"Hello Darling, are you all okay?" Geri says to you, you could practically here her smile through the phone.

"Hi, Geri..." you say a little timidly.

"What's wrong, do you need me and Christian to come get you?" she asks.

"No, no. I just I dont really have anywhere to go until Vegas and I w-" you start but don't need to say anymore before Geri interrupts.

"Oh honey, our home is always open to you. Your a great help around the house too, especially with the kids. Call that garden view rooms yours from now on okay! In fact when we get back I'll have a key made for you, Christian can we do that?" she explains before her voice gets more distant as if she's pulled the phone away from herself.

"Do what?" you hear Christians voice ask muffled from the distance.

"Get Y/N a spare key, when we are back obviously" Geri asks.

"She doesn't have one already. I thought I gave her the spare..." Christian offer's and then mumbles about how he must have forget.

"Anyway darling that room is yours okay. Don't worry" Geri says making tears come into your eyes.

"Thank you Geri, really. I" you say and immediately the older woman can tell that your getting upset.

"Oh no sweetheart, don't get upset. It's okay" she tells you.

"I'm just really thankful"

"I know, hunny. But i've got to go Max is needing an escape route from an interview. But I'm sending him straight to you and he's gonna drive us to the hotel to get our stuff" Geri says and you hang up after thanking her a few more times.

You hung up, sighing happily before looking around you. You lock eyes with someone across the paddock.

George, of course it was George. You braced yourself for him to come up to you, trying to apologize and grovel.

But to your surprise he stayed where he was with Alex and Lando who was talking to the pair of them rather animatedly. He gave you a nod and a small smile, stopping walking making Alex and Lando also stop and continue that conversation stationary.

That told you everything. From the nod to the smile, he finally accepted that you'd come to him when you were ready.

Now you could concentrate on Vegas and Abu Dhabi and getting those points to finalize Max's year.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russell smut #george russel imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x you

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velvetcloxds · 1 year

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📮DITCH THE WHOLE SCENE- send me a character and any option from my request guidelines and I'll write a baby blurb/dialogue for it

OFF-LIMITS | S.B.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: pairings in the tags, little suggestive comment at the end

summary: after getting a little carried away at the after-party, you wake up in your brother's best friend's bed, which is not the best situation to be in on the morning of a meet and greet

"My brother is going to kill me," you were searching for your socks, you didn't need them as much as your search made it seem but it was better than losing your mind while doing nothing. "My brother is going to kill you," you found one, groaning lightly as you kneeled down beside the bed to pick it up, looking up when Sirius sat up on the bed, throwing his legs over the side in the process.

"Good morning," he hummed and you wanted to throw him with the sock, be damned if it got lost again, because how very well dare he be so calm. Sitting there shirtless looking as unfairly sexy as ever giving you that same little smirk that convinced you that sharing a bed instead of booking another room wasn't as bad an idea as you knew it was. "Did you sleep well?" he was kidding, he had to be. Did you sleep well all cuddled up in his strong tattooed arms? Yes. Have you been dreaming about doing that since your first show together? Also yes, but none of that would matter once your brother found out and killed the two of you.

"Sirius, are you aware of our current situation?" he didn't seem like he was, gentle hand reaching out to help you up and sliding right down to your waist to keep you in front of him. He was showing you no mercy, allowing his thumb to slip past the hem of your shirt, brushing over your skin a few times, only satisfied when you shivered lightly under the soft, forbidden touch.

"Everything is going to be fine," he promised and you rolled your eyes, clearly not on the same page. "Love, we didn't do anything wrong, yeah, there's no reason to freak out."

"We cuddled," you began, allowing him to pull you closer, knees against his, your hand settling around his wrist. "And we kissed, a lot," you looked down shyly, there hadn't been much time to process that part just yet.

"The scandal," he mused, admittedly satisfied with your reaction as he laughed lightly, stealing a quick glance at his pillow stained with your makeup before looking back to you with a smile. "We didn't do anything wrong," his smirk deepened, eyes practically laced with mischieve as he shrugged. "Not yet, anyway."

"You don't get it, trouble," your body moved without your permission, his lap seeming to be the perfect seat as you settled on his thigh, dragging a hand through his hair with a little shake of your head. "He made me promise, once I stepped onto that stage with you guys, you were off-limits."

"You were off-limits too," he agreed and it was sort of pathetic how he became putty in your hands so quickly, the simple touch of your fingers threading the paths in his hair had him close to purring, eyes nearly closing. "Shit, maybe we really are screwed," he breathed and the grip on your hips was enough proof, his head lulling forward against your shoulder, kisses breathed over your skin.

"What are we going to do?" he wasn't all that eager to answer, a faint smile finding your lips as his kisses spread to your neck, a feeling you'd never thought you'd be lucky enough to be familiar with, but as guilty as you felt, you weren't sure you'd be able to stay away again. "Do we go back to just being friends?" you were nervous for the answer, your heart knew that whatever happened the night before was right, it felt right, too perfect to be wrong, but your head knew that things would be complicated if you continued to act on what your heart wanted.

"Could you do that?" he peeked up at you with big curious eyes, up through his lashes and it made your heart do leaps in your chest, your fingers moving gently to reach up and smooth the frown from his lips- you shook your head. "Then we take it slow, yeah, see if it works- we don't have to tell anyone anything just yet, not until we're sure."

"And if I'm sure now?" he smirked, any sense of seriousness gone in a second as he tightened his hold and threw you onto the bed beside him, crushing you under his weight but you didn't mind, anything but.

"Then we just get to enjoy our little secret for a while," you didn't know where to put your hands, sliding them up his chest and eventually stopping to cup his cheeks, not even daring to bite back your happy smile. "You like the sound of that, sunshine?"

"Maybe," you lied, he noticed, and the way he leaned down to kiss you was an excruciatingly long wait, so when his lips finally met yours you couldn't even help but melt, humming against him and the sound vibrated right through his body. "Didn't think I'd ever get to do that in real life."

"Is it better than in your dreams?'

"So much," he was pleased with that, making sure the next kiss lasted even longer, savouring every second, because he knew that for as long as you had to hide whatever you had going on, moments were going to be fleeting, special and he didn't want to take for granted the time he had with you now.

"Good, now what I'm wondering is what other dreams we could put to the test..." your cheeks were burning, skin tingling at his tone and you knew he wasn't one to tease without following through which is why the groan that left his mouth following the knock at the door was anything but exaggerated.

"Pads, you better not still be in bed," your brother's voice was like a cruel hand dragging you right back to reality, a finger on your lips reminding you to keep quiet when you tried to push Sirius off you. "You've got ten minutes before we're leaving, mate, I need to go find my bloody sister," and then he was gone, the last thing you expected to hear in return was the soft laugh of the rockstar on top of you.

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you, trouble?" he shook his head and you were gone, there'd be no return to friends if that look, that torturous little look, was anything to go by.

"You know the answer to that, sunshine."

#brother's best friend!sirius black #rockstar!sirius black #sunshine!reader #rockstar!reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x yn #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #monique's 22 (taylor's version) celebration #monique's writing events #right where queue left me

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samcarpentersgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

Can you write some fluffy amber headcannons

|| AMBER FREEMAN X READER HEADCANONS 𖤐₊˚.

warnings: brief mentions of possessiveness, reader wears makeup, kissing, drinking

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

- loves horror movies, obviously. her perfect idea of a date night is watching one of her favourites cuddled up with you on the couch

- gets super excited and will info dump facts or details regarding them whilst she lays with her head in your lap as you play with her hair - you can’t help but love how passionate she gets

- speaking of movies, her comfort movie is something completely cheesy, like high school musical or some bad mid 2000s rom com. she tries to play it off and calls it stupid, but you don’t miss the way her eyes brighten at every joke and the way she almost subconsciously mouths the words as they’re said on screen

- also likes to draw. sometimes you’ll glance over to her and she’ll be sketching a little book, her features etched with concentration as she tries to get the little details right

- she’s definitely drawn you a fair few times, although you had to peek when she wasn’t looking because she wouldn’t outright show you

- she’s one of those people that seems to be good at everything - it’s infuriating and incredibly attractive all at once

- amber feels as if she has to protect you, so if anybody tries to flirt with you and makes you uncomfortable, she’ll come up and be all over you and tell them - not so nicely - that you were very much taken, thanks

- on a related note, she’s definitely into pda, whether it’s handholding, kissing, or anything else. you’re her partner, and the more people then know that, the better

- definitely pushed you against a wall before and kissed you

- if the two of you are out and you’re drinking, amber makes sure to stay purposefully sober enough so that she can make sure that you’re okay and not too bad. if you do anything stupid whilst drunk she’ll tease the hell out of you, but nobody else is allowed to make you feel even remotely bad about your actions

- tells you that she loves you very often. it doesn’t matter if you’re walking down a crowded street or if it’s just the two of you together, she needs you to know how much you mean to her

- she loves doing your makeup, and you love feeling pampered and seeing her happy - it’s a total win - win situation <3

- strangely great at comforting you when you’re sad. she has your favourite food on standby, your favourite tv show cued up and is ready to listen as you vent. she knows when you need space though, and won’t overstay if she can tell that you need to be on your own

- is very good at reading people, especially you. she can look at you once and practically know what you’re thinking about - it’s honestly kind of scary and hot??

- amber likes to feel like she’s in charge. if cuddling, she likes to be the big spoon, but even apart from that, it’s the little things like you laying on her chest or even her initiating kisses with you. it’s not only with you though, you realise that even with her friends, she seems to gravitate to a leader role - it’s like she can’t help herself

- compliments you constantly. you’re trying on a new outfit? “look at you, you’re breathtaking, baby. I’m so lucky to have you.” you get a new job? “yes, I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d do it - you’re so fucking amazing.”

- never forgets anything. from your favourite artist or the name of the pet you had as a kid, amber remembers it all. she’s so captivated when you speak, so why wouldn’t she?

- drinks so much coffee. it started as a way to help keep her awake so she could cram, but now she practically starts shaking if she hadn’t had at least two cups by 10am. you feel as if you should stage an intervention.

- likes pet names - baby + princess (if you’re fem) are her faves. amber is one of those people that if they call you by your full first name, you know that you’re in trouble - with amber, it’s definitely either a pet name or a nickname

- a morning person?? idk I can see her as both but I think she would just prefer the morning - waking up earlier helps her feel more productive and she can get things done- by the time you wake up, she’s already making breakfast for the two of you and humming along to the radio

- if you come home hurt somehow, amber goes into full nurse mode. she’ll help patch you up and sit with you as she ask what happened and if she finds out somebody hurt you, you’re the one that has to calm her down

- the two of you just work and balance each other out

- after you’ve been together for a while, amber starts planning your future for the two of you. she wants to move in together when your ready, and is already planning on asking you how you feel about a pet dog

- because she loves animals - you can’t help but find it adorable how she melts around them.

- if you’re with her when she’s ghostface, she genuinely tries her hardest to keep you out of it. she still wants to stick to the plan, but there’s no reason to get you involved and for you to get hurt, and she’s determined to get away with it and live happily ever after with you - you’ll watch the new and improved stab movie together

#fanfic #scream x reader #scream x you #scream #scream 5 #scream headcanons #scream imagine #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman x you #imagines #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #amber freeman imagine #fluff

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changbinsboiledegg · 6 months

Note

idol!enhypen reaction to their s/o wanting to give them hickeys

Thank you for your request! Currently only doing Hyung line for smutty/suggestive requests but if you want Sunoo or Jungwon, let me know.

GN! Reader X idol! Enhypen Hyung line

MDNI!!!!

Warnings: Suggestive, hickeys, making out, petnames, one (1) swear word.

Note: some of these are inspired by the fact they have a comeback soon LMAO. Also the way they respond to these are headcanons on how I think they’d react, but then again so are all of the reactions I write. Anyways, as always, if no one told you today, ily 🫶

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Heeseung

“Hey, babe, no.” Heeseung gently pushed you back as he felt your lips on his neck, seconds from sucking the skin between your teeth.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” You asked, desperate to get back to the hickey you were about to place on the side of his neck.

“You can’t leave any marks— the comeback is soon. The makeup artists will kill me and then our manager— you know if I didn’t have a comeback to prepare for, I’d want your marks on me.” He explained while trying to simultaneously reassure you.

“But…” you stopped yourself, sighing. Heeseung saw the look on your face and immediately caved.

“Maybe not on my neck… but…” a smirk took over his lips and he pulled off his shirt. “Anywhere else, go for it.”

Jay

He shot down your question, asking if you could give him a hickey the last time you two made out.

However that seemed to change after the first music show stage of their comeback when he immediately came to your place, sweating and full of adrenaline.

He didn’t give you time to say or do anything, kissing you a tad bit roughly before pulling you to your room, sitting on your bed and placing you on his lap.

“Do it.” He muttered through quicken breaths.

“What?”

“Mark me.” Jay tilted his head to the side, giving you access to his neck. You leaned in, starting off with small pecks, “what made you change your mind?”

“You.” His voice was slightly raspy, hands roaming your body, “I just needed you.”

Jake

When you proposed the idea of giving him hickeys, he let you, no questions asked.

You sucked and bit anywhere his skin allowed you to. You could tell Jake was into it by how he gripped, groped and pulled at your body, gasps and groans came from him the more you marked him up.

When you paused to back yourself up and admire him, he had multiple hickeys ranging from his neck to his collar bones and parts of his chest.

“You went crazy there, love.” Jake chuckled, looking down to see your work.

This was when his phone dinged as he saw the reminder he set a week prior popping up in his notifications bar and his eyes immediately widened.

“Shit!” He cursed. You gave him a concerned yet confused look. “Hm?”

“I have a photoshoot today! Help me cover these up?” He lifted you off of his lap and quickly stood up, heading for your bathroom.

Sunghoon

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had just suggested the idea of hickeys to him in the midst of making out with him and he immediately agreed.

You figured it was him saying ‘yes’ in the heat of the moment but you wanted to be sure you had his full consent.

“I’m sure.” Sunghoon answered, his hands resting on your hips while his eyes wandered down to your lips again. “Go for it.”

“But what about your comeback?” You asked. Although you really wanted to give him a hickey— or a few, you couldn’t help but think of his career.

Sunghoon smiled, “we have great makeup artists.”

You felt butterflies when he said that and even moreso when he pressed his lips against yours, then tilted his head back to allow you access to his neck.

“Go for it, baby.”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enha scenarios #enha reactions

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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cherry i’m not tryna increase ur workload but all the characters in the reverb universe so full of life 😭 idk i’d like to see like a small time stamp drabble series of a day in the life of them whether its ur ocs or the others KDKAKSK

bae omg not at all!!! 😭😭 I appreciate u sm. You know I love any excuse to write for those fools shkshs 🫶🏾 I REALLY love this idea too!

EJ: he starts his day depending on how his night before went! If he had a good session and turned in fairly early, then he’s up around 7AM. He showers, does his whole morning routine (shaving, doing his hair, the works. He’s in their for a hour). He’ll go for a run or workout..shower AGAIN. Then he gets breakfast (courtesy of his housekeeping or his sweetheart (y/n) and then he’s off to the studio. That’s around 12PM or so. He has his home ones but also one downtown so he’ll meet with people there. He tries to knock out at least a project a day. Whether that’s someone else’s works or his own music. He sometimes has meetings with AMG, appearances on shows, interviews, etc and gigs per his lovely manager. He’ll head out around 6 or 7, get back home and he’ll have dinner with (y/n). They’ll go out if it’s their date night or just stay in. Honestly, that’s the highlight of his day! Being cuddled and laid up with his girl.

Jean: Mr. Kirschtein loves his rest so he starts his day around 9PM. Mika is an early bird so she’s out of the house long before that. He gets his morning routine out of the way before heading into the office. Whilst he’s working on his new album, he’s taking sort of a backseat approach so he helps out with auditions, organizing album layouts, writing music and just overall mentoring new artists. He gets there around 10:30 or so and heads out around 3. It’s then that he heads to his home studio to practice with his band because they still have tour dates coming up. They go at it for a few hours, fine tuning their setlist for an upcoming show. He gets in an hour long workout (bc we all know he has to look his best on that stage while he’s up there being a s-l-u-t). He usually finishes up his day around 10 or 11 and then it’s time for bed.

Armin: well after he’s crawled out of the pile of women and liquor bottles from the night before, he does get down to business. He does a lot of producing, DJ’ing and club promoting so he gets the privilege of starting his day a lil later. He’ll head to one of the ritzy lounges downtown for brunch and often times with one of his pieces of arm candy by his side. While he’s enjoying mimosas and egg Benedict, his assistant is getting his schedule together. His interviews, his gigs for that evening and any other ventures. (not to mention canceling his fifty million dates he’s promised!) Armin is out at allll hours of the night so if he’s DJ’ing/promoting, he may arrive around 11PM and be there until 3 or 4 in the morning. Drinking and turning up the whole time.

(Y/N): My girl staaays booked and busy! Up around 6AM for a workout and morning routine. Comes back from the gym or in home one around 8AM to do her hair and makeup. Often times, her and Eren are meeting one another and they’ll have breakfast together before heading out. Sis does a lot of influencing (obv) work so she’ll film content for a few hours for TikTok and Insta. Reviews on clothes, makeup, hair, etc. depending on what was sent for the week. Mikasa will normally tell her what her gigs are for the week and helps her stay on schedule. Around 1 or 2PM, she’s meeting up with her girls for pole practice. They’ll usually do a live showing their routines and put together their sets for a show. If they have a concert they’re doing, they’ll get to the venue around 6 or 7 to run through their choreography and then once the concert is over, they head out for the night and sis goes right home to relax with a warm bath and her big teddy bear of a husband.

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leohamatoblog · 27 days

Text

As a Dad: Leo Edition

note: hey everyone! happy Ramadan, happy Easter, happy Passover, happy Vaisakhi, happy Hanuman Jayanti, happy Mahavir Jayanti, and happy days to secular folks! i hope you all are having a safe holiday.

Authoritative

• there isn't much that we all collectively agree on more about leo than the fact that he's somewhat of a bossy dude

• that being said, he does mellow out in his older years and becomes more laid back...then he had children (biologically by some miracle or by adoption)

• he read every single baby book he could get his hands on but then they went out the window when he realized that parenting is nothing like what they say in books

• the 0-8 month phase wasn't so bad, his sleep schedule is wonky so mostly he's up with the baby. he's very calm, very soft spoken, and gentle with the baby when they're fussy cause they can't communicate

• bath schedule, eating schedule, sleep schedule, the man has schedules people.

• absolutely loves bath time cause he's the dad who will put the bubbles on his head to make the kid laugh (i dont make the rules)

• loves the pre-walking stage the most cause you just put them on the floor and let'em roll and crawl in a confined space

• lord help this man at the walking and talking stages

• he tries to get your kid to talk but all the kid wants to do is scream so..there's that idea gone

• when the kid wants to run around naked while leo's trying to get the diaper back on, now that is where he gets tested cause that little shit-

• incredible amount of patience though, especially with tantrums. splinter never raised his voice at him as a kid until he became a teen, so he wanted to carry that on with his own children

• now when your kid hits the 3-8 stage, oh boy. if leo could go grey, he would be grey.

• he tries to teach your child discipline and respect, and while your kid is respectful, unfortunately they have leo's sharp tongue and makes it everyone's problem

• leo believes in time outs or taking things away as punishment. he doesn't believe in spanking and thinks yelling accomplishes nothing. he does get a certain tone that makes it known he means business

• he knows full well your child is going to make mistakes and creates a safe environment to where your kid can come to him when this does happen without much punishment

• but we all know that's a perfect world and if it's leo's kid, their mouth is going to be their downfall

• he thought the 3-8 stage was bad until ages 13-17, oh boy.

• puberity is not on leo's side here

• grounding becomes more of a ritual and leo runs a tight ship. he will hold his grounding opinion until he thinks it should be lifted, no matter how long it takes

• of course your kid is also a ninja so sneaking out is a thing (leo can't get too mad cause he did the same but "do as i say and not as i do" is leo's famous line)

• reasonable parent and thinks carefully about how severe a punishment should be or if the circumstance really even calls for one

• chores, bedtime until they hit around 13, the kid must have at least an A/B average, a C is acceptable if the subject is particularly hard and the kid is trying their best

• dorky dad. just a dorky dad.

• dad sneezes

• doesn't strike me as a girl dad or boy dad cause he's so attentive no matter the gender

• he's the dad that doesn't call it babysitting cause it's his kids

• he will get down on the floor and play with his kids

• has a little girl? no problem dressing up and letting her do his makeup and nails

• has a little boy? wrestling and rough housing it is

• kid(s)will be respectful and smart, and just very genuinely nice kids

• kid(s)'ll also deck someone with no hesitation

• vegetables are non-negotiable

• very proud man when it comes to his children and never hesitates to praise them

• the children will each have special nicknames

• he's not the fun parent but is also not not the fun parent

• never misses an event, even though he has to attend in the shadows. he is always there

• affectionate dad, more verbally than physically, but he gives your kids head kisses all the time

• as long as the kids aren't trying to kill each other and are just playing, the noise doesn't bother him much...it's the silence that does

• definitely the type of dad to send 👍

#rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt ask blog #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #ask blog #tmnt 2003 #tmnt headcanons #tmnt imagine

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mxtxfanatic · 8 months

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So @fireandgrimstone and I once had a discussion about how mxtx handles Xie Lian’s crossdressing in tgcf, the gist of which was whether or not it was falling into a gender essentialist trope ("you can always tell when a man is pretending to be a woman!") despite how much of the story tackles a kind of gender fluidity amongst other characters. I said I’d return to it once I reread it again to see how I felt reading those bits in context, so here I am!

The first instance of Xie Lian cross-dressing in the story is during the very first mission: the ghost bride. In order to find out who is kidnapping brides in the area, Xie Lian dresses like a bride to act as bait. When he first gets dressed, this is how he is described:

If you asked anyone to come and see, they would be able to tell with a glance that this was a young boy with a gentle and handsome looking face.

—Chapt. 6: The Ghost Holds a Wedding, The Crown Prince Climbs Onto the Marriage Sedan (Part 1)

You can "tell" that he is still a man, even as he wears the wedding outfit, we are told. However, later on, Little Ying comes and helps fix up Xie Lian so that he looks more like a bride. When next the others see his face, this is how he is described:

How could Xie Lian have known that a girl’s skill in make-up created legendary and mystifying results? Little Ying had only taught him how to fix his eyebrows by drawing them elegantly, how to powder his face with some white powder and how to dot his lips with deep, red rouge. However, if he didn’t speak, Xie Lian looked exactly like a gentle, soft and beautiful young lady.

—Chapt. 9: The Mountain’s Locked Ancient Temple, The Forest of Hanging Corpses (Part One)

A little bit of makeup and reshaping his outfit has transformed Xie Lian from someone you could tell was a man "from a glance" to someone who "looked exactly like a gentle, soft, and beautiful young lady." Even the crowd of men acting as "guards" could not tell Xie Lian was a man, and at no stage in this entire arc is Xie Lian uncomfortable with the act of cross-dressing, at being honestly mistake for being a woman, or Mu Qing and Feng Xin's negative reactions. He is indifferent to it all.

The next major moment we see him cross-dressing is when he is running away from the group of cultivators hunting Hua Cheng:

Behind the curtains sat a woman, her long raven hair hung a loose bun, her neck slender and white with a black choker and a thin silver chain circled around. Her robe was half stripped, revealing her snow white shoulder and a small bit of her back, looking to drape and fall, making one’s face burn and heart race.

When the curtains were pulled, the figure of that woman trembled, covering her face with her sleeves, and whimpered softly, as if she was shocked and terrified by such a sudden and brutish act. Heaven’s Eye instantly dropped the curtains, “I-I-I-I-I-I’M SORRY!!!”

The band of monks and cultivators who followed after Heaven’s Eye all screamed too, “WHAT A SIN, WHAT A SIN!” And they all covered their own eyes. Using this chance, that ‘woman’ whipped around -- who else could it be but Xie Lian? Hua Cheng was sitting in his arms and was only blocked from view by Xie Lian’s body. Although Xie Lian was a man and his shoulders were wider than the average woman, but he only pulled down half of his robe to expose the best angle, creating the perfect effect.

—Chapt. 137: Upon Barren Hills; Rioting the Black Hearted Inn (Part One)

Just as with the makeup and reshaping of the bride outfit, wearing a woman's robe, stripping to show off some skin at an angle, and whimpering a little was enough to trick this group of men into thinking he was a woman. The cultivators are so embarrassed, they run away, but even the passerbies who catch a glimpse of Xie Lian fleeing later in that same outfit have the vague idea that it is a "woman" they're seeing running with a child. Then, in the same outfit, Xie Lian enters an inn and we get this hilarious interaction:

A moment later, the door opened, and several attendants came forward to greet, their faces full of smiles, “Good si...”

They had wanted to say ;good sir’, but seeing the person before them was wearing women’s robes, they changed, “Mis...”

Before the word left their lips, Xie Lian emerged fully from the darkness with Hua Cheng in hand. If there’s a child, then it wasn’t an unmarried lady, so they changed again, “Mada...”

‘Madam’ was still half on their lips and Xie Lian’s face was fully illuminated by the light within the inn. Although this person was dressed in women’s robes and had a gentle countenance, if they must be honest, no matter how they looked it was the face of a man. The attendants all became mute, and it was a good moment before they went back to their original greeting, “Good sir, please come inside.”

—Chapt. 137: Upon Barren Hills; Rioting the Black Hearted Inn (Part One)

None of the attendants are able to tell Xie Lian's gender just from a glance. They rely on context clues (his clothes, the fact that he's with a child, then finally, his bare face) to finally decide that he is a man. Xie Lian is not discomforted by this either, not even to correct them. In fact, the narrative says that he feels no mental or physical discomfort as he is. Mind you, in this world, it is established that gods can and do change their physical forms to match a certain gender, but despite having the power to do so, not only does Xie Lian not take this route but he is still able to successfully appear as a cis woman to both strangers and his closest friends with only the minimalist of effort. Neither he nor the narrative place any expectations on how he "should" feel being man mistaken for a woman, nor do they waste time trying to explain to other characters why he is dressed as one like what one would usually see with this trope. Xie Lian simply exists in the form most comfortable to him and changes minor appearances to produce the aesthetic that he needs when he needs it. No more explanation is needed.

The thing about Xie Lian, too, is that while he is assured in his own gender, this does not translate into him being adverse to either weaponizing gender to reach a certain goal (such as being bait in a mission or hiding from enemies or just finding a dangerous object) or others doing as they please. Shi Qingxuan repeatedly attempts to wheedle Xie Lian into transforming into a female form with him, but though Xie Lian refuses for himself, he never shows disgust that Shi Qingxuan prefers his female form, unlike other gods.

Due to all of this, I don't see the repeated mentions of Xie Lian's maleness within these cross-dressing scenes as meant to reinscribe the gender binary but, instead, to impress upon readers how simple it is to throw gender into question. Gender is just that malleable and its perception so easily manipulated that even one of the most manliest men in the story can be viewed without a shadow of a doubt as a woman. Xie Lian is proof.

#tgcf #human metas mxtx #there's also something to be said about the weaponizing of gender in the story #but that will likely be another meta #i was also gonna talk about how other characters view these gender performances #but every character who has a negative reaction to xie lian cross-dressing or sqx changing forms #is shown to be small-minded and obsessed with reputation above all else #while everyone who's alright with it is just normal #anyways hope this makes sense #i felt like there were more moments i'm missing #but whatevs it's going out now

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ya-zz · 1 month

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I have a quick question if you don't mind me asking. Can you please do one where a gender neutral reader is a secret singer? Like they walk on stage and their partner recognizes them even with a costume and makeup. Can I please request Hanzo, Genji, Moira, Lucio, Ramattra, Zenyatta Junker Queen, Junkrat, and Roadhog to be the ones who are the partner who figures out that they're dating a popular singer.

There was a lot to this, but I hope it's okay! (I also haven't slept when I upload this, so I apologise for any mistakes or errors.)

I'll add everything under the cut, but here is a main scenario you can use or make your own up;;;

You had been dating your partner for a few months now and things were healthy. Everything was as it should be, though, you had a secret you couldn’t exactly tell them. Fear was holding you back - you did not know how they would act, whether they would use you or leave you.

HANZO

He was three drinks into the night when the act started.

At first, he didn’t care until the voice resonated within his ears.

Looking up, his eyes adjusted to the spotlights shining down amongst the crowd before they dimmed and the main stage lit up.

Their voice was something ethereal. Something that Hanzo recognised instantly.

Despite the outfit they were wearing, behind all of that make-up, Hanzo recognised the person instantly.

Shock was present on the archers face, but that was quickly overcome with astonishment.

He couldn’t believe it. His partner was the most popular singer in Hanamura.

Hanzo couldn’t stop staring, watching the way they performed so effortlessly.

Their hips swaying in time with the song, lips wet and shining in the spotlight, voice angelic as the day he first hear them.

His heart flutters, flush appearing on his cheeks and not from the alcohol he had already consumed.

When his eyes met theirs, a smile forms on their face, a wink directed to the man seated within the booth.

Hanzo could feel the heat rise in his body as he smiled back, tipping his glass towards his partner.

There were several emotions running through him, from love to lust, Hanzo couldn’t quite wrap his head around why you kept it a secret.

Nevermind though, he was already planning on making you sing for him privately.

GENJI

Genji had made plans that night with a few friends he had made during his playtime in Hanamura all those years ago. Some form of a “catch up over drinks” he called it.

Sitting in a circular booth close to the stage, the ninja looks up at the presenter talking about the opening act, a name he recognizes but had no face to put it to.

When you come out on stage in all that make-up and wearing an outfit that catches everyone's eyes, Genji can’t help but stare either.

It took him a moment between blinks for it to register that the person on stage was his partner he had been dating.

His jaw practically drops, hand clasp tightly around his drink.

Eyes were blown wide, either from lust or from pure adoration at your singing ability.

Genji felt his entire body flare up in heat, something so secretive only turned him on more.

His friends that surrounded him made their remarks but he didn’t pay them no mind.

His entire focus was on you.

Genji could only sit there and stare.

The moment you lock eyes with him and give a playful wink accompanied with a smirk, the dragon inside stirs.

Oh you don’t get to play this game.

The night was still young and the ninja had so many ideas in mind.

MOIRA

The Irishwoman would have rather been anywhere else tonight, but after a week of failed experiments, what other choice did she have?

The bar sat across from the stage was where she was situated, and her phone lay on the countertop in silence.

You hadn’t even bothered to check in on her today which only fueled her rage more.

She needed time to herself, however. Perhaps the night will go in her favour of some peace.

Just when she finished her second drink, the ice rattling in her glass, she turns to face the stage.

The act had already started, singer atop the stage in sparkles and glitter.

Moira felt something familiar but couldn’t quite place her fingers on it.

Then there was that turn you did, one that the scientist recognised instantly.

It was you singing your heart out. Not only that, but in such an establishment? She couldn’t quite believe it.

No wonder you had been distant today, you were here preparing for this.

He anger at you dies out instantly as she watches on, admiring the way your voice sounded along with the music.

She knew you could sing but this was an entire new level.

Moira clapped when the song was over, smile as wide as her face met yours to which you bashfully hid away.

Questions have answers and she was going to get them, one way or another.

LUCIO

It wasn’t his first time in the venue and it sure wasn’t going to be his last.

He always had a seat at the VIP table just in front of the main stage, and tonight you were suppose to join him.

When his calls went unanswered, a sinking feeling grew in his stomach. There were many faces already staring at him on his own.

He tried to drown his sorrows with a few drinks, hopelessly texting you, wondering where you are.

Then the announcer calls out a famous singers name and Lucio can’t help but feel somewhat hurt that you’re leaving him like this.

He stands to leave and when a voice starts singing, a perfect harmony that his ears twitch and listen to, he spins around.

Immediately he recognises you, he knows the frequency of your voice, they perfect, sweet noises that come from your throat.

It was you.

You hadn’t stood the artist up, no, you were here with him.

He takes his seat and watches you sway in time with the music.

Eyes meet and he can’t help but grin. No wonder you were so secretive.

When the song was finally over, you didn’t waste anytime in jumping from the stage and sitting beside Lucio.

His hand holds yours as he compliments you, placing a kiss to your temple.

He didn’t mind, it’ll be all over the papers tomorrow regardless.

RAMATTRA

What was an omnic like him doing in such a place like this?

The only time he had a need to being here was to strike deals that suited his arrangements.

A questioning invite made him wander into the place, suit hugging his body as he unbuttoned the blazer to sit down.

He crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair as he watched the stage, an opening act that did not pique his interest at all.

When a familiar voice rang through several minutes later, his receptors picked up the frequencies, instantly looking up to the figure on stage.

His optics adjusted to the light, a smirk coursing through his wires as he watches his partner, their hips moving to the rhythm.

He couldn’t help but stare, system flaring up as he records the show for later.

When his partner finally stops singing, their vocals now a slow murmur against the next act, Ramattra watches them make their way to his booth.

“You finally came through.” He spoke, matter of factly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I knew.”

Of course he knew. He had everything about you saved within his systems.

“Plus your secret wasn’t exactly secret with me.” He muses.

ZENYATTA

The omnic had planned this little date with you months prior, an exquisite date fit for someone like you.

Little did he know, that the place you were currently seated in had regulars there that recognise you instantly.

At first you passed them off, Zenyatta staying beside you throughout it all.

He was confused until some older looking person came and pulled you away from your partner.

You laughed, brushing him off before eventually being pulled onto the stage, microphone in your hand.

It all came naturally and the tilt of Zenyatta’s head made you smirk.

Your voice hit his receptors just right and the monk could feel his wires warm up as he watches you perform for everyone else.

When the show was over, applause ringing loud throughout the venue, you make your way back to him.

“You put on quite a show.” He admits with a chuckle.

His optics met your eyes, looking at how they glistened under the warm light.

“How long have you kept this secret?”

“Too long.”

Zenyatta brushed his thumb over your knuckles as he held your hand before bringing it up to his faceplate, planting a makeshift kiss against it.

“Perhaps you could tell me more as the night goes on.”

JUNKERQUEEN

It was a normal night for the queen.

Junkertown bars held karaoke nights each weekend, the establishments packed with drunks and Aussies alike.

Some nights, upon the queens request, does she have private shows before her on her throne.

Several acts lay before her, the music was loud but when her eyes set upon an almost familiar figure, everything heightened.

Their voice was angelic, something she recognised instantly as they sang their hearts out.

Odessa thought hard about where she recognised their voice, it was just there…

The moment their eyes lock, it hit her, the one singer she had adored for years, the one partner she had loved for months.

It was the same person.

Her smile became something feral as she stood, practically marching her way over there.

Upon reaching her partner, hands laced together as her lips brushed against your ear.

“Who knew you had such a voice.”

She felt your cheeks flush against hers, a devilish smile caressing her face.

Odessa now had several ideas whirling inside of her head.

“Your queen would enjoy a more… private ensemble.”

JUNKRAT

The Aussie was head over heels for you, that much was plainly obvious by the way he would talk about you and show you off.

There was something about you though that rose suspicions.

The way you would sneak off and come back late at night. While he knew you weren’t screwing around, something unfamiliar settled in his stomach.

One night, he followed you, the nighttime heat on the back of his neck.

Upon entering a small, unmonitored establishment, Jamison could feel the hairs on his arms stand up.

He peered around the back, eyes searching for you and when your voice echoed through the dimly lit room, tones changing quickly as you sang, did the junker find his heart fluttering.

His partner, the love of his life, the one he trusted everything with…

You were singing for others, but never for him.

He wondered why, but when he realised that you were the most sought singer in the entirety of Junkertown, he understood.

Time passed before you eventually came home, seeing Jamison sleeping on the bed.

Lazily, he cuddled up with you, hand stroking your stomach as he mumbles out sleepily;

“You have the voice of an angel.”

ROADHOG

Nothing could’ve prepared him for such a relationship between him and you.

Never had he thought someone would love him the way you do, so when you invited him out on a date several weeks into the relationship, he was almost startled.

For once, the man dressed up nice, smart suit and tie and he made his way over to one of the more prestigious places in Junkertown.

By almost begging the queen, you managed to get him in unharmed, guards escorting him into the building and standing around to keep a watchful eye on you.

At first he was confused as to where you were, but when a familiar voice sang out, stage lit up beautifully despite half of the bulbs flickering, his ears perk up.

He looked up, eyes widening as he witnessed his partner, the one singer he had on repeat for the last few months, was there on the stage.

He couldn’t believe it at first, but the subtle smiles and winks you passed to him was all the confirmation he needed that it was indeed you.

He was dating one of the well known and renowned singers in all of Junkertown.

It makes his head spin, the excitement taking over as he can’t help but stand and applaud when the act is over.

Mako grasps you firmly, pulling your body flush to his as he wipes the bead of sweat from your cheek.

“You have kept this from me?” His voice was low, gruff as he watched you.

“I had no choice.”

He huffs, shaking his head.

“You sound wonderful.” He admits.

His hand squeezes your side.

“I’d like to hear you again.”

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sissylittlefeather · 5 days

Text

We Can Make the Morning

(or Angel Take 7)

A one-shot

A/N: I've had this idea for a while and just decided to go ahead and write it the other day while I was watching Elvis On Tour. I hope y'all enjoy this 1972 Elvis x fem!reader one-shot!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Word count: ~3.7k

Greensboro, North Carolina. You've lived here your whole life. And you've been an Elvis fan since you heard his first record at the tender age of fifteen. Now you're in your early thirties and you finally find yourself at one of his shows. You've never managed to go to one before and something about this feels like destiny. Still, the best you could afford is a seat at the front of the balcony, but you're next to where he'll walk into and out of the arena. If you push, you might be able to get a pretty good glimpse of him, and that's all you've ever really wanted. You dream of more, but you know better than to think he's going to notice you or anything.

April 14th, 1972 is show day, finally. You get dressed and try to ignore your nerves as you fix your hair and swipe on your makeup. You opt for your favorite bell bottoms and a cropped peasant blouse. It's not the dressiest outfit you own, but it flatters you and shows off all your best assets. Not that it matters much. He'll never see you.

At the arena, you make your way to your seat and try to survey whether you'll be able to get to a place where you can really see him up close. Eventually the lights go down and the music starts up. You head over to the railing, but there's a hundred girls between you and the tunnel. There's no way you can fight through them this time. You'll have to try again at the end of the concert. You head back to your seat with a new determination.

The show is incredible.

He's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with a belt that has an owl on it, as he points out during one of the songs. Even as far away as you are, you can tell he looks amazing. His voice is on point and his performance is unmatched. You sit in silence with your lips parted slightly and your eyes wide. It's like he's made of stardust. And you're not going to let him pass by without seeing him up close.

He ends the show with Can't Help Falling In Love and then bows with his arms held out holding the silver cape. You know he's going to move fast through the tunnel, so you run to the railing and push your way through all the women gathered there. It's hot and hard to breathe and your heart is pounding. You're pressed up against the railing where it hits you just below the waist. Your position on your platform boots is precarious but you lean over anyway, just in case he reaches up. You feel yourself getting lightheaded from the excitement, but you're not going to miss this for anything, no matter how you feel. Just then, you see him headed for the tunnel. Your ears start ringing and the edges of your vision go dark. You can't believe it's really him. As the blackness envelops you, someone behind you pushes on your back and you feel yourself falling...

******

On stage, Elvis knows he's putting on a hell of a show. The energy from the crowd is electric and the camera crew seems excited by the footage they're collecting. In truth, he's ready to be done with this damn movie. Ready to be done with this damn tour. He enjoys the stage portion but everything in between is grueling. And honestly, the loneliness has been setting in pretty hard for him, especially in the middle of the night. Sometimes he picks up a girl at a show, but most of his encounters are empty. And even if he does find someone he likes, the conversation is lacking or she's so starstruck she can't do much more than giggle or try way too hard to impress him in bed. He longs for a real connection.

On stage, though, he lives his dream every night. This show in North Carolina is particularly satisfying for some reason and he comes off the stage with a smile on his face. He makes his way quickly to the car, heading for the tunnel lined with screaming fans. Looking up briefly, something strange captures his eye.

He reacts quickly without thinking, throwing his arms out to catch you just before you hit the ground. Somehow, you fall perfectly into his grasp and he holds you like a baby. He's stopped running, so his entourage encircles him to urge him forward.

"You can't stop here, man!"

"Put her down; let's go!" He looks down at you in his arms and realizes you're out cold.

"I can't! She's out, guys!"

"You're gonna have to drop her!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"No. I'm bringin' her with me." The guys make eye contact across him. They know when he's like this there's no arguing with him. He starts moving forward again with you in his arms.

At the car, the guys try again to get him to drop you with a security guard, but he refuses.

"It's my fault she's like this! I'm not leavin' her!" He gets into the backseat of his car, holding you on his lap. The other guys roll their eyes and squeeze in with him. It was a tight fit even before you were there, so now it's almost impossible for them to smash into the car. He wraps his arms around you tighter and holds you to him while the guys pile in. Sweat from the show slides down his face and he looks at you in his arms. The gentle lines of your features are intriguing and he wonders what your name is. For a moment, he forgets where he is and does something a little strange. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to your forehead. That's when your eyelids flutter and you stir.

******

You sit up quickly and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You're in a car of some kind with a bunch of men you don't recognize. You try desperately to remember how you got here.

"Hey, honey. Are you alright?" When you hear his voice, you whip your head around.

"Oh." You answer breathlessly. "It's you."

He chuckles softly and his smile almost causes you to pass out again.

"It's me. I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to leave you there in that state."

"State?"

"Do you remember falling over the wall?" You cover your face in embarrassment.

"Oh my god..." He laughs softly again.

"Honey, it's okay. It happens."

"This has happened before?!"

"Well, not exactly..." One of the guys cuts in and you realize you're sitting on Elvis's lap with his arms around you. You fight to keep your composure.

"We're here, boss." The door opens and the guys climb out of the car until it's just you and Elvis.

"I'd like you to stay, so I can keep an eye on you. Is that okay?"

"I'm not sure it's necessary..."

"I say it is. Come on." You're not going to argue with him. He pats your bottom and you climb out of the car, followed closely by him.

On the sidewalk, you stumble a little, still woozy from passing out. He wraps his arm around your waist and steadies you.

"Do I need to carry you, honey?" The concern on his face is so endearing you almost melt into the ground.

"N-no, I think I'm okay."

"Alright. I'm gonna keep a hold of ya, though." You nod and he smiles genially. Then, the two of you make your way into the hotel surrounded by his bodyguards. At the elevator, he tries to dismiss them, and they refuse to leave him alone, but when he speaks sternly and insists that he'd like to be left alone, they listen and watch as he gets on the elevator with just you. Once the doors slide shut, he turns to you and puts both hands on your hips.

"What's your name, honey?"

"Oh! I'm y/n. I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be." He waves his hand to dismiss your apology. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember if you hit your head on the way down?"

"I don't. I think I might've been out before I fell."

"You still might've hit your head." The elevator dings and the doors open. He keeps one arm around your waist and ushers you down the hallway to his room. You look at him in his jumpsuit and wonder where he might possibly have a key stashed. He bends down and pulls it out of his boot, standing and unlocking the door. You stumble a little walking across the threshold and he steadies you again, watching you with even more concern. Once you're in the room with the door shut behind you, he seats you next to him on the couch. You yawn and blink slowly. Somehow, you're exhausted.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhmm." You answer, yawning again.

"Okay. We need to keep you awake. If you hit your head, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I don't feel like I hit my head." He reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, honey." You nod slowly and notice that his eyes flick down to your lips. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. You're a little surprised that he almost seems shy.

"You're sure I can't just lay down?"

"No, baby, you gotta stay awake." He looks down at himself and then to the bathroom. "I need to shower, though. But I hate to leave you alone."

"I really think I'm okay." He looks at skeptically as you yawn yet again.

"No. You're comin' with me. You can wear your underwear in the shower. I won't touch you. C'mon." He makes you stand up off of the couch and takes your hand, walking you to the bathroom. You want to tell him that you'd happily get in the shower with him naked, but you don't. He puts you in first, facing the back of the shower and then you hear him undress and get in behind you. You're dying to peek and see what he looks like without his jumpsuit, but he's being so kind that you can't violate his privacy like that. Still, the knowledge that Elvis Presley is naked behind you in the shower makes you a little crazy. Just when you think it can't get much more endearing, he starts humming. Your heart melts when his humming turns to quiet singing and you're dying to turn around and wrap him in your arms. He's so much more precious in person than you ever dreamed he could be.

You're lost in a reverie when the shower turns off and you feel him turn to face you. You can tell he's looking at you and you want to turn around so badly. Everything inside you is screaming at you to just turn around. But it's like you're frozen where you stand. When he kisses your shoulder, though, your head rolls to the side and you're desperate for him to touch you. He doesn't though. Instead, he whispers.

"You stay here, baby. I'll get you a towel." He gets out of the shower and hands you a towel. "There's a robe hanging on the door. I'm right outside."

You dry off and slip out of your wet undergarments, wrapping the fluffy robe around yourself. When you open the door, he's sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist. He looks up at you in the robe and swallows deeply. You sit on the edge of the bed and smile awkwardly. He returns your smile.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." He chuckles softly and moves back to the bathroom. You settle against the pillows and hastily break your promise to stay awake. The warmth of rest washes over you and your eyes close.

******

Elvis puts you in the shower in your underwear facing away from him. It's impossible for him not to notice your figure, though. The curve of your ass in your white panties about drives him crazy. He strips naked and turns the shower on. Through the whole shower, he tells himself not to get aroused just at your proximity. Once he's finished, he pulls the handle to make the water stop and then turns to face you. Your hair and your body are wet from the shower and he wants to touch you so badly that it almost hurts. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder. It's an indulgence he should have resisted, but something about you is intoxicating. He breathes deeply and pulls himself away to get you a towel. Once he does, he walks out into the room and sits on the couch. What is it about you that has him so out of sorts?

When you come out in the robe, it takes all of his self control to keep from ripping it off of you. But he wants more from this. He wants to know you, not just fuck you and move on.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep." You give him a salute and he chuckles, making his way back to the bathroom. After about thirty seconds, though, he has a bad feeling. He doesn't even get his pants on and walks back into the room still in his towel.

He was right. You're asleep.

He moves to the bed quickly and sits next to you, shaking you gently.

"Hey, baby, wake up." You don't stir and he starts to panic. He thinks back to how he woke you up in the car and leans in and kisses your forehead. Still, you stay asleep. He kisses your cheek and then finally, he presses his lips to yours. Finally, your eyes flutter open and he smiles. "You're back."

******

"I am. You kissed me."

"I'm sorry; I was getting desperate." He looks into your eyes and your smiles fade.

"Do it again." You whisper and he nods, pulling your face back into his. He crashes his lips into yours and the kiss moves to a fever pitch as he parts your lips with his and slips his tongue into your mouth. He puts both hands on your cheeks and you sit up on your knees, ready to crawl into his lap. Thats when he notices his erection under the towel. It's impossible to hide and he pulls away, looking down, and trying to push his cock down to make it less obvious.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be. It's okay." He shakes his head.

"No. It's not. I brought you up here just to keep an eye on you and now this." He's ashamed at his reaction to you. He feels your finger under his chin and you pull his face to looking into yours.

"Elvis, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you? Knowing you? It just confirms everything I've ever believed to be true about you." He melts at your words and pulls you in close to him, kissing you deeply. But he pulls away again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if you should do... this..."

"Then maybe I can do this..." You reach your hand forward and run it down his chest to the top of the towel. Then, he inhales sharply as you move further down to where his cock is erect underneath it. You slide your hand under the towel carefully and take him in your palm. He moans softly as you begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth gently.

"God, baby, that feels so good. You don't have to-"

"Shhh. You've been taking care of me all night. Let me take care of you." His hips buck into your hand as you continue to pump him. He grunts and leans his head back as you move your hand a little faster.

"Mmm, baby..." He moans as you push his foreskin back and collect a bead of precum that's gathered there, running your thumb across his sensitive head. He leans back and lets you move the towel out of the way to free his cock and stroke it in the open. You pump him a little faster and he groans again. "It's so good, baby."

He feels your lips on his cheek as you move your hand on him and turns to kiss you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to capture your lips again. Then, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers.

"Thank you..." You smile and continue moving your hand up and down on him gently. He throws his head back and his hips buck again. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-"

A guttural groan rises from his throat as he cums, hard, and shoots his climax all over your hand. You pump him through his release and he shudders into your palm. He uses the towel to wipe your hand clean and then lays back on the bed.

You giggle a little and lay back with him. He turns and looks at you.

"I haven't been that satisfied with a handjob in years."

"I haven't given one in years." You smile. He rolls over and smothers you in kisses, forgetting for a second that you might be hurt. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, reaching down to undo the tie on your robe. His hand runs underneath it onto your stomach and down to your hip.

"Can I make you feel good too, honey?" You nod frantically and he laughs out loud. Then he stops and looks at you seriously. "Alright, just don't move around too much. I'll never forgive myself if this hurts you."

"I really think I'm fine." He sinks to the floor between your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He spreads your legs, kissing the inside of each of your thighs gently. You moan softly as he leans forward and drags his tongue up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh, god, Elvis!" You whimper as he continues to move his mouth on you. He swirls his tongue over and around your clit in tantalizing circles. The sensation drives you wild and your pussy clenches around nothing as he licks you. He dips down and pushes his tongue into your slit several times before slipping one of his long fingers inside you. You whine and arch your back as he pumps his finger in and out and goes back to dragging his tongue over your clit. The pressure of your orgasm builds as he works and you know you won't last too much longer. He pulls back a little and flicks your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, teasing your orgasm out of you.

"Cum for me, baby." He whispers, pressing his whole mouth to you and moving his tongue on you hard.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you, pumping through your veins like electric shockwaves. He continues working his mouth on you as you ride out your high, your hand in his hair.

When you finally come back down and stop shuddering, he pulls back, wiping his face with his hand and laying next to you on the bed.

"Wow." He chuckles and looks over at you. "No, seriously, I've never had a man...get me there."

"Really?"

"I mean, they've tried, but never successfully. It's like I was waiting for you."

"Honey, I feel like I've been waiting for you too." He rolls over and put his hand on your cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it. Something about being here with you, feels like I was meant to catch you."

"It feels like I was meant to fall." He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You shimmy out of the robe and get under the covers with him. He holds your naked body close to his own, running his hands over you gently as you talk.

You spend the rest of the night in conversation and soft touches. He tells you stories about his life and listens attentively when you share yours. The connection between you strengthens with each passing hour and each soft caress and each sweet kiss.

When the sun peeks through the curtains of your hotel room, he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I think you're okay, baby. You haven't had any other symptoms and it's probably been long enough now that you would have."

"Should I leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't."

"Then stay. We made it to the morning. We can rest now." You nod and he settles on your chest. You're both asleep within minutes, wrapped around each other.

Eventually, there's a harsh knock on the door and someone calls to him from the other side of it.

"Hey, boss, we gotta be wheels up in twenty."

"Okay." He hollers back, groaning and stretching.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." You whisper.

"Don't be, honey, that's the best night I've had in years." You both get up and start to get dressed. When you're fully put back together, he grabs you and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"I hate that you're leaving." You mumble into his chest.

"Come with me."

"What? No, I can't."

"Why not?" You wrack your brain for a reason, but there's nothing keeping you here. Nothing that's more important than him.

"Okay." You look up into his face, your arms still wrapped around each other.

"Really?"

"Yes. Can we swing by my apartment and let me grab a few things?"

"Baby, I'm Elvis Presley, we can do whatever we want." He leans in and kisses you softly again. "You know somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I caught you when you fell, but I think you're the one who saved me tonight." He takes your hand to lead you out of the room and into your future. "My own little angel fell right out of the sky. I'm so glad you did."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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