#I love all of you and cherish every interaction with my fic always

[ronanception]

Awww someone deleted their comment. That’s okay - I saw it and it made me very happy and if you’re here - I wrote and rewrote that scene like, 50x so I’m really happy you found it so compelling.

#I love you commenters #I love you bookmarkers #I love you kudos givers #I love you guests #I love all of you and cherish every interaction with my fic always

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🛏️₊✧ 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗱𝗮𝗱𝗱𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼’𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗻𝗼 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸 ♡🌙₊˚₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 somnophilia (the characters have discussed the kink beforehand) 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with a bit of plot 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 gojo eats you out 𖥔 bj 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 heavy daddy kink 𖥔 lots of dirty talking

: ̗̀➛ words: 3.1k

: ̗̀➛ notes: initially this was a toji fic but satoru somehow decided to fit better (bad-dum tshh). ngl when i was writing this i got butterflies in my stomach. like i legit felt sumn throbbing lmaooo. tmi??? dont care. we're all horny here mamas. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Satoru wasn’t ashamed to fuck his step-daughter. 

He enjoyed it. 

You enjoyed it. 

A clandestine affair kept under the sheets from your mother and two older brothers.

Megumi and Yuji had their suspicions about how carefree their step-father was around you, constantly tickling your side, asking you to lay your head on his lap during movie nights, and buying you gifts on a whim. The boys would obviously complain about the special treatment, but Satoru would just watch with a smile as you stuck your little tongue out and called yourself Daddy’s girl. 

Because that's what you were. You were your daddy’s girl. And Satoru ensured that fact was deeply ingrained in your mind as he moved in and out of you, lifting your tender legs onto his shoulders, kissing your rosy lips, saturating your silk sheets with both his and your release.

It was difficult keeping the lewd side of your relationship a secret. Your mother was rarely at home from her corporate job, and you suspected she was having an affair with a salaryman named Satoru.

Meanwhile, your brothers were in their second and fourth year of college nearby and could come home whenever they pleased—particularly Megumi, who wasn't as much of a partygoer as Yuji being a senior. There were multiple times while Satoru was fucking you when Megumi returned home, but did that stop him from satisfying his girl? Fuck no. 

As for your stepfather, he was a remote investor in the booming hospitality industry, managing significant stakes in various companies. His encounter with your mother at an industry event last year was strategic; she became a means to an end, a stepping stone toward fulfilling his desires. A few months down the line, she introduced him to her family, to you—the most precious thing Satoru laid his eyes on. You were the real prize in his eyes, something he had to figure out how to get his hands on, despite always getting what he wanted.

So, he married your mother, moved into your house, and deployed every weapon in his arsenal, including his lethal charms, to claim you as his own.

But did Satoru cherish you in the way a man should cherish a woman? No. He didn't cherish you. His love didn’t check off the conventional boxes. He was consumed, fixated, captivated by your existence, by your body, the adorable noises you made when you climaxed. But not enough to make you his girlfriend, or someday his wife. 

He just wanted you as his step-daughter. He was a selfish, depraved bastard who got off on that fantasy, and you, God you loved nothing more. You wanted nothing more from him than to be exactly who he was in his spot—your step-father.

As long as you both kept fucking each other for however long, you were satisfied. 

“Quiet, baby,” Satoru whispered as he clicked on a link for a video call with his team. His one hand rested over his mouse, the other over your crown as you lapped at the tip of his leaking cock. “This is an important call.” 

You’d returned from school after acing the test you’d been studying all week for and wanted to release that excitement onto your step-father. After all, he did massage your shoulders and brought you fruits when you were busting your ass memorizing the periodic table. 

Satoru plastered on a smile as the voices from his computer started speaking. He still kept petting your head, chuckling casually and speaking smoothly about numbers and profits like the capitalist he was. 

You opened your jaw wider and took his length into your mouth. Your gag reflex was non-existent after months and months of perfecting this skill. Your tongue supported the bottom of his shaft, while slowly bobbing your head up and down. Satoru’s grip tightened in your hair, but he remained all rainbow and sunshine in front of his workers. 

You gripped his thick cock, feeling the veins pulsing under your touch. Your tongue slid from the bottom to the top as you sucked on the pink head like a lollipop, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Satoru shot you a heated look and guided your head with his hand. He pushed his throbbing cock into your mouth, holding your face against his pelvis. You gagged a bit, needing air, and he eased off.

“It’s on mute,” he muttered. 

You broke out into coughs and smacked his leg. “What the fuck was that for?” 

“For giving me those eyes.” 

You scoffed. “Dickhead.” 

“It’s right in front of you, Princess. Put your pretty lips on it again.” 

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his cock extra tight making a muscle in his jaw twitch. You lapped at the pre-cum leaking down his length, then took him into the cave of your warm, small mouth. 

Satoru held your head in his hands, guiding the pace. He struggled to focus on the meeting, clearing his throat to shake off the intense feeling building up inside him. With fifteen minutes still to go, he was on the brink. 

Feeling your tap on his knee, he glanced down to see you motioning to your mouth.

Satoru lowered your head again, clenching his jaw as your tongue pushed him over the edge. He held his breath, releasing a wave of warmth as he emptied himself into your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair, while his other hand reached for his glass of water, desperately trying to steady himself with large gulps.

You pulled back, strings of your saliva and his come forming a bridge. He gave you the water and you drank the last bits of it. Satoru patted the top of your head and you stayed hidden underneath his table, admiring him as he finished his meeting. 

And before you knew it, he had you bouncing on his cock again. 

At dinner time, you helped set up the table with your brothers while your mother flipped the hamburger patties.

Satoru tossed the salad bowl, taking small glimpses at you and the pink set of tight shorts and tank you wore. He’s been noticing you rubbing your temples, swaying a little on the balls of your feet, blinking rapidly. You clearly weren’t feeling well from all that studying you’d been doing. 

Megumi abruptly pulled you aside by your elbow. “Is everything all right?” 

You blinked, fighting the sharp pain in your temple. “Yeah. Why?” 

“Satoru keeps glaring at you. Did you piss him off or something?” 

You cast a look at your step-father, who’s focused on pouring olive oil on the greens. “I haven’t talked to him since I came home from school.” 

Megumi nodded, rubbing your arm. “Well, I’m here if you need to talk about anything.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He scratches the back of his neck. “I just— This probably sounds stupid, but I don’t like knowing you’re both home alone in the afternoon.” 

“He lives here, silly. What do you expect?” 

“Yeah, I know. I know that—I’m just saying that he looks at you . . . like, weirdly. Not in a way someone would look at their family member. He acts weirdly, too. Always touching you and tickling you. I don’t know.” Megumi scrutinizes your outfit. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to wear that around the house when he’s here.” 

You frowned and crossed your arms. “I can’t deal with this again.” Putting on an act that Satoru was simply your step-father and nothing else was tiring, but you’d mastered it. “You’re being delusional as always, Megs. Satoru is just family to us and vice versa. I’m just special because I’m the youngest.” You patted his shoulder. “I can take care of myself. And if I ever need help, I’ve got you and Yuji to defend me.” 

Megumi smiled solemnly and shrugged off his hoodie, handing it to you. “Can you at least wear this?” 

Anything to ease his mind. 

You smiled and shouldered the large hoodie. 

Throughout dinner you kept losing focus of the conversation flowing between your brothers and mother. Your head was pounding from the stress of your upcoming final exams, your scalp ached a little from Satoru’s grip this afternoon, and you desperately needed sleep. 

“Y/N?” 

You lifted your head, blinking lethargically. “Yes, Mom?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I—” You rubbed your heated forehead and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I, uh—I think I’m just not feeling too good.” 

“Sweetheart, how many times have I told you to take it easy with school? You’re doing great—”

“Great’s not going to get me in my dream college, Mom.” You lost your appetite easily and excused yourself from the table, grabbing a bottle of NyQuil and a spoon. “Please don’t wake me up until tomorrow. Goodnight.” You ignored everyone’s stares and marched upstairs, taking a spoonful on the way. 

Dropping face-front on the bed, you melted in your sheets and forced yourself into a sleep. 

Satoru waited until every light in the house was off before visiting your bedroom.

Of course, he had to check that little shit Megumi’s room, and after hearing nothing but white noise, he checked up on Yuji and found him snoring his lungs out, then finally entered into your space.

He shut the door quietly and locked it. 

You laid fast asleep, hair dusted across your soft face, one hand on your stomach, the other next to your head.

Satoru smirked and sat at the edge of your bed, checking your temperature by pressing his hand against your forehead. You were burning up, and the little strangled breaths puffing from your parted lips proved you weren’t going to school tomorrow. 

Lying down next to you, Satoru brushed your hair from your face and kissed your cheek. He glanced down the length of your body and back to your face. His fingers danced over your collarbone, the expanse of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse.

“Relax for me, baby,” he whispered in your ear, kissing below your earlobe. He watched you for a second, waiting for you to shift or wake up, but you were dead asleep. 

You talked about what turns you on the most last week, and somnophilia was right up there, leaving Satoru scratching his head in confusion. He couldn’t wrap his head around how someone could be into getting it on while asleep. But you were practically begging him to give it a try someday, and he couldn’t say no to you. 

Well, surprise, surprise, baby. 

Satoru slipped down the straps of your tank top, leaning over you. He bridged kisses from your jaw to your neck to your shoulders, softly, not his usual crass ones. His finger hooked your tank lower until it exposed your tits and your puckered nipples.

“You’re always sensitive here, aren’t you, Princess?” He cupped your left breast and lowered his head, kissing the nipple and sucking the bud. 

You took a deep breath and shifted your face to the right.

Satoru switched to your neglected breast, taking his sweet time nibbling your tender nipple, then bringing his lips to yours. He kissed the top one, the bottom one, pushed his tongue inside to feel your sleeping one. His kisses trailed lower and lower until he reached your shorts. He pulled them down to reveal white panties and a damp spot between your legs. 

“Even in your sleep, huh?” Satoru planted kisses on your inner thighs, gently biting and licking. He nuzzled his nose against your clothed sex, inhaling deeply and breathing out slowly. His tongue traced over the area, wetting it more with each stroke. “Daddy’s gonna eat his pussy now, baby.” He pulled your panties to the side and dove into your slick, moist folds. “Mmm. You smell so sweet.” 

Satoru began to lap your juices like a starved dog, keeping your tender folds parted with his thumbs. The tip of his nose bumped against your clit, sending a little shiver down your body. He double-checked to see if you’re still asleep, then continued his job. He pushed two fingers in your walls and chuckled against your flesh as you clenched around him. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s taking good care of you.” 

Half an hour. He ate you out for half an hour until he could see the slight quiver in your swollen clit. His saliva and your fresh release covering your abused, delicate folds.

When he pulled away, his hard cock in hand, Satoru sat back, admiring you spread out like a feast before him. Leaning in, he teased your folds with his throbbing length, digging his tip over your clit in gentle circles.

“Can I put it in, Princess?” he whispered in your ear. You didn't answer, sweat trickling down your forehead with the fever. Satoru licked the droplets, then kissed down to your neck. His hands stayed by your head as he moved his hips, dragging himself over your puffy cunt. “Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your little pussy is so soft and wet.” He gripped his length and pressed just the tip into your entrance. “Since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll give you what you want. Just don't wake up, okay?”

Satoru slipped in smoothly and nuzzled into your neck. He eased into your tightness, going slow and steady, urging your gummy walls to adjust to his size. “My sweet baby. Look at you. Sleeping while your daddy fucks himself in you.” He pulled back and widened your legs, seeing his fat cock sliding in and out of you. “Fuck, yes. Gonna fuck this little cunt of yours for hours.” He started moving quickly. “I don’t care if you can’t walk tomorrow. You won’t be leaving this bed anyway with that fever of yours. Daddy’s gonna fuck it out of you however long it takes.” 

He put his hands on either side of your head and kissed you while moving his hips.

You moaned, feeling a shiver as cold touched your bare chest and legs. “Satoru,” you said softly. His eyes closed in pleasure as he increased his pace. 

Sensing you stirring, he wrapped his arm around your waist and turned you over so you were lying on his chest. He paused, running his hand down your arm. “It’s okay, Princess. Go to sleep. Daddy’s got you.” 

You exhaled heavily. 

Satoru licked his lips and grabbed your plump asscheeks in his palms, slowly moving himself up into you. His face squished up seeing how well you were handling him even though you were out cold. He kept going, sometimes easing up when you shifted on his chest, or speeding up when you stayed asleep. 

“I'm so close, baby. So close to finishing inside my little girl. Gonna fill you up. Flush those pills and make you a mom.” He envisioned you with a swollen belly, your breasts heavy with milk, your body glowing and all his. 

Fuck, you were his. 

You were only his. 

Satoru came harder than he ever had before. Hot spurts of his release filled your sweet hole to the brim, and yet he continued with pumping into you. “Hey, baby? Daddy doesn’t want to stop now, okay? He’s going to fuck you some more,” he said, realizing why this kink meant so much to you.

Pulling out slowly, he laid you down beside him, shedding his clothes. Pressing his chest against your back, he wrapped your leg around his and slid back inside you, burying his face in your neck. He wanted to be rough, to feel your nails on his skin, to bite you and hear you moan.

“I wanna kiss you, baby. I want your little tongue.” Satoru pulled out of you after finishing for the second time and laid you on your back. He adjusted your head so you were looking at him. His fingers went back to pleasuring you while his lips met yours. He slipped his thumb between your teeth, easing your bottom jaw down. Satoru slid his tongue in, playing with yours, moaning and breathing heavily.

“My baby has such soft lips,” he murmured over your wet, swollen mouth. Taking his finger soaked with your juices and his come, Satoru placed them between your lips and ran them over your tongue. He ravished your mouth again. 

Exhausted from holding back, Satoru pulled you close and slid back inside you, staying still, just feeling your warmth. He ran his hand over your back, kissed your head, and shut his eyes.

In the morning, you woke up feeling a bit weighed down below and something awkward stopping your movements. You lifted your head, rubbing your sleepy eyes, and saw Satoru asleep beneath you. A grin spread across your face as you remembered the steamy dream you had about him satisfying you. 

You planted a kiss on his cheek and tried to get up using your hands, but then you froze. 

You looked down and realized you were sitting right on top of Satoru’s cock.

Holy shit. It wasn’t a dream. 

Satoru fucked you while you were out cold. Just thinking about him taking advantage of your defenseless body to satisfy himself made you shiver.

“Dickhead,” you grumbled, then began to rock your hips. Time for payback. Yanking down your cami-top, you teased your nipples, riding his stiffening cock. You couldn't care less as you leaned in for a kiss. “Rise and shine, Handsome.” 

Satoru took a deep breath. His lips synced with yours effortlessly, and his hand found its way into your hair. He yanked your head back, his eyes widening as they trailed down to your swaying hips. A smirk played on his lips as he relaxed back, crossing his arms behind his head. “You feeling good now, Princess?”

“Much better, Daddy.” 

Satoru admired the playful bounce of your tits, the adorable mewls escaping your mouth, the flush of your smooth skin. Seeing his step-daughter fuck herself on his cock first thing in the morning had him on cloud nine. 

“I’m gonna come, Daddy,” you moaned, hands planted on his chest. 

“Come, then, baby. Come on your daddy’s cock.” He reached out and grabbed your throat. “Then lick it clean.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You came with a muted cry, milking every last drop of him. “Your cock is so full inside of me.” Satoru smirked at your dirty little words and gave your left tit a little slap. 

You picked yourself up from his cock and knelt between his legs. Satoru watched as your little hand barely wrapped around his girth, lapping at his come like his pretty, little kitten. “Feels good, Daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby. You always feel good to me.”

Satoru released a contented sigh and reclined against the soft pillows, his arms folded beneath him.

He will never be shameless of fucking his sweet girl ever. 

#zaraswriting #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #somno k!nk

[angelshadowsinger]

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you. 

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are! 

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything. 

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears. 

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you. 

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you. 

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down. 

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel. 

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die. 

— 

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult. 

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway. 

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun. 

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest. 

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there. 

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too. 

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too. 

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him. 

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen. 

Because now, he had Elain. 

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman. 

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room. 

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound. 

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own. 

But of course, that was not the case. 

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again. 

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece. 

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.  

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened. 

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state. 

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible. 

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.” 

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered. 

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else. 

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on. 

Cassian was quiet. 

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability. 

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind. 

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.” 

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?” 

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.” 

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts. 

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?” 

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before. 

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.” 

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury. 

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you? 

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words. 

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you. 

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.” 

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.”  Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low. 

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling.  “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead? 

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward. 

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angelshadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #my work #azriel x you #STSPFY series

[katebishopsbow]

SOMEDAY IT WILL ALL BE OKAY • MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: watching kevin and his daughter, laura, playing together at the paddock makes you emotional as you remember the love that you never get to receive growing up. max is here to remind you that your past doesn't define you, and one day you will be okay.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of absent parent

word count: 3.1k

author's notes: based on the real-life event of me tearing up when i saw that video of kmag's daughter playing with his visor. healing my own daddy issues one fic at a time :)

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Kevin Magnussen is a great dad.

People can say whatever they want about his driving – aggressive and maybe a little dangerous sometimes – but there is no denying that he is an amazing father who puts his daughters above all else. The Dane is always joking about how his two little troublemakers have been giving him a constant headache, but the rest of the grid knows that he would do just about anything for his girls.

Occasionally, Louise likes bringing Laura and Agnes to the track to see their dad at work. Being a Formula 1 driver with all the hectic schedules and non-stop traveling means that family time together can often be difficult to come by, so Kevin cherishes all the time he gets to be as present in their lives as possible. 

The drivers all love it when the Magnussens visit the track, not only because Laura and Agnes are the sweetest little angels ever, but also because they get to witness the rare sight of Kevin “tough guy” Magnussen shedding his hard exterior and tease him about the heartwarmingly softer side he displays to his family. 

And while you would never admit this out loud, somewhere residing deep within you is envious – envious of this kind of love that you never got to receive. Sometimes when you look at Kevin interacting with his daughters – just sometimes – you find yourself wondering what it would be like to have a father who is present, who genuinely cares, who loves you with everything they have so much that you never have to doubt your worthiness.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were standing with a few other drivers at the track, idly chatting about the upcoming race and your holiday plans now that the winter break is right around the corner when Kevin suddenly saunters nearby, holding the hand of the most adorable little girl. “Laura, come say hi!” he kneels down and says to her, sporting the biggest and most loving smile on his face as his daughter gives a shy little wave to the crowd of drivers before her.

“Hey there, Laura,” you wave at her, settling on a simple greeting since you have never been particularly great with children. “Hello, little one!” Lando greets with a wide grin as he offers Laura a fist bump, and the girl explodes into giggles when he pretends to yelp in pain at how hard Laura fist-bumped him. Classic Lando – always so good with kids.

“She’s got quite the punch, doesn’t she?” Kevin jokes while he chuckles at the sight, admiring the joyous smile on Laura’s face with the tenderest gaze he only reserves for his daughter. Becoming a father is the best thing that has happened to him, and he thanks the stars every day for being blessed with such precious gifts of life. Laura and Agnes – his biggest pride and joy.

“Here to be dad’s little assistant, Laura?” Max asks, his nose scrunching up in an adoring smile like the way it always does when he speaks to Penelope. The little girl nods bashfully before running to hide behind her dad, holding onto his hands as if he is her safe place, her rock.

Kevin laughs at his daughter’s endearing shyness, picks her up and envelops her in his embrace before placing a kiss on her rosy, chubby cheeks. “You’re the best assistant in the entire world,” he whispers softly, adoration swimming in his eyes while Laura lets out a giggle at her father’s words. The drivers around them cannot help but smile along with them – how can they not at such a heartwarming sight? 

Yet watching Kevin’s doting smiles and the way he looks at his daughter as if she is his entire universe, the initial warm fuzziness within you silently morphs into a dull ache that squeezes at your heart – an odd yet familiar feeling you know all too well. Despite your best efforts to push them away, your mind becomes clouded with hazy memories of the past – the painful past that has broken you and haunted you for years.

In the fogged-up memories of your childhood days, you were never at the receiving end of such an affectionate gaze. The only way your father has ever looked at you was indifference, annoyance, and a sense of uncaringness that tore your little heart up into pieces and left you wondering what you did wrong to be so undeserving of the fatherly love you yearned for. 

He never picked you up and hugged you as if you were a fragile treasure that he cherished. He never held your hand in a way that made you feel safe and certain that nothing could ever harm you because he would be your shield, protecting you from the world and its merciless cruelty. He never once made you feel loved and cared for, ignoring your attempts to gain his validation and approval because he loved himself and his ego more than he would ever love you. 

When you received good grades at school and showed him your report card with the rows of A’s, hoping that it would help you get his approval, he didn’t praise you. In fact, he didn’t bother saying anything. He simply gave you a half-hearted nod before shifting his attention back to the damned television screen in front of him, some uninteresting TV show that never should have mattered more than his daughter. So you stuffed the tear-stained report card back into your school bag, uncaring that it got crushed and crumpled, because in the end your hard work and effort didn’t matter. It never did.

When you had a rough day at school and came home with tears running down your cheeks, your father looked at you for a second, rolled his eyes and walked away. So that night you cried yourself to sleep as you soaked through your pillows with your wallowing tears, wishing that your dad could wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay. You knew that he could hear your sobs across the hallway, but chose to ignore you anyway. You wondered if he hated you that much, or was it simply because he never even cared to begin with?

And when he finally gathered all his belongings and disappeared from your life once and for all, you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry at the sight of the now-empty house. You had just felt empty and lonely – so painstakingly lonely. The kind of loneliness that seeped into your bones and slithered along your veins and consumed your soul. 

As you grew older, you became familiarized with that emptiness – comfortable with it even. You begin to find yourself pushing people away when they get too close, keeping most at arm's length because that seems like the safest option, breaking your own heart before others can do it because you never want to experience the same heartbreak your father has put you through.

Despite how painful it is, you hold onto that loneliness like a lifeline because how could you not when that’s the only thing you know? How could you love when you don’t even know what it feels like?

Even though it had been years since your dad had left, the emptiness he had left behind never seemed to fade away. They say time heals all wounds, but you call that bullshit, because then why does it still hurt like a fresh stab into the heart? 

Too deep in your storm of thoughts, you don’t realize the tears brimming in your glossy eyes and the way your lips quiver ever so slightly. “Hey… you okay there?” Charles, who is standing beside you, gives you an affectionate pat on the shoulders and whispers hushedly in your ear, worried at your sudden change in demeanor. Quickly nodding your head, you answer him with the best smile you can manage, “Yeah, just remembering some things.”

While most of the drivers still have their focus on Kevin and Laura, a few have also noticed your red-rimmed eyes and quietness. “What’s wrong?” Lando mouths the question silently toward you, eyes wide in concern as he tries not to shift everybody’s attention toward you. You shake your head and mouth “nothing” in reply to him as discreetly as possible, not wanting to ruin the group’s mood with your sudden sentiments. 

As much as you want to stay, you simply need to get away for a moment to recollect your thoughts. “Uh – There’s something I need from my driver’s room, so I’m gonna head off,” you hurriedly blink away the tears and put on the best smile – a skill you learned to master after years of being in the public’s eye. You hope that the excuse you just blurted out is somewhat believable, and you quickly disappear into the distance after your fellow drivers bid you goodbye. 

While making a beeline for your driver's room, you cannot help but feel so embarrassed, so guilty for the sudden burst of emotions that erupted in your chest moments ago. “What is wrong with me?” you mumble hushedly to yourself as you make your way to the garage – irritated and beyond annoyed at yourself that the mere sight of Kevin with his daughter is enough to bring you to tears. 

This isn’t something new to you. It isn’t the first time a good father-daughter relationship has made you tear up. Movies, TV shows, song lyrics – you always get so emotional when you allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts, thinking too deeply about the painful reminders of the love that you never have. 

It makes you feel stupid, because how broken do you have to be that trivial things like these are enough to make you cry? And it makes you feel scared, so utterly scared, because what if you were too broken to ever be capable of loving someone this much, too damaged to ever receive love despite yearning for it, and end up pushing away everyone who cares about you for the rest of your life.

When you arrive at your driver's room, you take a seat in the corner, breathing in and out while the self-blaming thoughts inside your head spiral in full force. This is so stupid, you are being stupid, and you hate yourself for being a fool and letting your past trauma affect you like this. Why were you even crying? There is nothing to be crying for. Stop. You need to stop.

Then you hear someone calling your name, voice faint and soft behind the door – Max. “You feeling okay?” he asks, and your delayed response and trembling voice as you answer him, “I’m fine.” are a clear enough indicator that you are far from okay. “Alright, I’m gonna come in now.” A sigh of mixed emotions falls from your lips – annoyance that you never seem to be able to lie to the man, and gratefulness that he always understands what you really need, and right now it is the company of your best friend.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says to you, eyebrows ceasing in sadness when he notices the expression on your face. Max hates seeing you like this, especially knowing the reason behind your tears is your absent father – someone who will never be worthy of having you cry over him. 

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your race suit, guilt weighing heavily on your chest as you apologize, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood back there. Did the other drivers notice?” Max shakes his head with a frown, refusing to let you blame yourself for something you should never feel guilty for. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying, honestly. Why am I still so angry and sad after all these years? It’s like… am I always going to be like this, broken? Will the hurt ever go away?” you explain truthfully to him while trying to piece your muddle-up thoughts together, yet you struggle to put them into words. How can you begin to explain the years of trauma your dad has left behind? How can you describe the mess of emotions you have for him – the hatred, the resentment, and the fact that you still love and miss him so much even after everything he has done to you?

You don’t need to, because Max understands, he always does. One of the reasons why you two became close quickly is because you share a similar, troubled past – something that is rather unfortunate to bond over, you would argue, but it brings you a great friend nonetheless. Max’s father isn’t exactly absent like yours – Jos Verstappen is still quite prominent in his life, along with his abusive and manipulative ways of raising his kids which he would vehemently deny and claims to be “tough love” instead.

Even though he is there, it doesn’t change the painful truth that the presence of his father has ruined Max. For years, he thought being violent was the way to solve problems because his dad always seemed to be able to solve his with his fist. He used to believe that you had to be perfect to be deserving of good things in life because he grew up with the punishment of “no dinner” if he had performed poorly in a race. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of loving someone, and then he met Kelly and Penelope.

“You know… when I first met Penelope, I was terrified. I was scared that I could never be a good enough father figure for her, that I was too ruined to show her the love she deserved to have. But then I saw her, and then I realized I love her more than anything,” he confesses as he places himself to sit beside you, a reminiscent smile dancing on his lips while he remembers his first time meeting Penelope, the little girl who has become his family.

He remembers the suffocating fear of ending up like his father when he first held the hands of little Penelope, mind plagued with all the horrible what-ifs. What if he was a terrible dad? What if he couldn’t ever love Penelope? What if he was just like Jos Verstappen and ended up destroying her childhood with his anger and temper the way his dad had with his?

Then Penelope gave him a sweet smile, her tiny hand holding onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes with such trust and comfort, as if she knew that Max would love her more than anything in the world. Max genuinely thought he was going to cry, his heart surging with an overwhelming amount of love and determination to protect the little girl in front of her and give her the home she and Kelly deserve to have, and that’s when he knew that he had nothing to be afraid of – that he was going to do better than his father.

“Listen, kiddo. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it just makes the pain bearable. But there will be a day when your wound will still be there – it always will be there – but the pain and the hatred will no longer consume you. And you will realize that you can be better and stronger than your past, that you can break the cycle, that you are deserving of such unconditional love too.” You listen quietly to your best friend’s answer, exhaling a relieved sigh at the words you so desperately need to hear, giving you hope that despite all your trauma, one day you will be able to love with such certainty as well.

You are never too broken to love or be loved. You are not damaged goods that need repairing. You are not a monster for being intimidated by love and affection, for pushing people away even though you want more than anything for them to stay. You just need to allow yourself to heal from the hurtful past, to understand that your past trauma does not define you. You need to allow yourself to feel, to accept the depths of your emotions, to understand that your sadness and anger are always valid. You need to believe that you will be better than your father, that you will not follow in his footsteps, and that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else. 

Feeling sentimental over this doesn’t make you stupid or a fool, it just makes you human. It is okay to cry over it, to be sad over it, as long as you remember that one day – while things will never be perfect –  it will certainly get better. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Max tells you with a smile, reaching for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze, and you believe him. For once in a very long time, you genuinely believe that everything is going to be okay. The impact your father has on you will always be there. You can never wipe away the hurt and awful things he has done to you, nor can you simply erase the simultaneous love and hatred you hold for him, but one day you will learn to move on and find closure, and you are going to be okay, just like Max said.

There is a knock on the door, and you can hear your name being called again, this time in the soft and squeaky voice of a little girl. “I’m here,” you answer, and peeking behind the gap in the door is Laura with a cheeky grin on her face. Kevin leads her inside your driver's room with an apologetic smile, “Hey, sorry… Laura says she wants to play with you and insists that I bring her here.” 

You watch as Laura crawls up into the seat next to you and Max, looking at you with the brightest toothy little grin ever, and your lips begin pulling up into a huge smile as well. “Is it okay if she plays here for a while? I’ve got a team meeting in 5 and she never likes coming to those…” Kevin asks apologetically before relief floods his expression when you answer him, “It would be lovely to have a little playdate with Laura.”

“Alrighty, see you later little one,” Kevin leans down to place a kiss on his daughter’s head, reminding her to be a good kid when he is away for the meeting, and you smile at the sight. Not an envious one, or a reminiscent one, but one of contentment because you know that one day you will be able to receive and give such unconditional love to someone too.

Someday, it will be okay. You will be okay.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #kevin magnussen x reader #f1 drivers x reader

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙞’𝙢 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜! ♡︎

anon asked: ;-;

Okay so total observation:

Xiao is the type to very nonchalantly rile you up in what he thinks is subtle ways and puts up the worst act of innocence when you finally pin him to the wall when y'all are alone

... I joined Tumblr less than a week ago help-

characters: sub!xiao x nb!dom!reader

warnings: fluff, light angst, spoilers to xiao’s backstory, cock of course can be interpreted as a strap on, xiao being a clueless dummy baby that we all cherish and love

notes: wanted to write an open ended fic for once so what happens to xiao after the fic is completely up to yall’s imagination huehuehuehue

first of all, facts

xiao has never had any romantic interaction in his life so when you came into the picture, he is completely and utterly hopeless

he doesn’t even know how to properly hug it’s kinda sweet in a way alkdjdjwjsjkd

relationship with xiao is going to be very long taking and you have to be patient no matter whether it’s a friendship, familial, platonic but more so if it’s romantic

take things slow. that is THE most important part when it comes to bonding with xiao

teach him how humans show affection. show him what it means to hug someone, to give them kiss in their soft spots (such as foreheads, cheeks, knuckles), gently take his hands in yours and guide them to stay around your shoulders as you wrap yours around his small waist, explaining to him that this is what’s called “cuddling” and it’s like an extensive form of a hug

it will take months until you two will share your first kiss of your relationship. maybe half a year in or so

adeptus’ regenerate quickly due to them not being human and it rarely leaves any scars. but xiao has 2 long, thin, vertical scars on his back - the place where his golden wings used to be until his former master cut it off of him

whenever you leave soft kisses on those 2 scars as you two cuddle up closely in the night, bare and devoid of any secrets, always has the yaksha’s eyes welling up with tears because never in his thousands of years of living he had received such genuine and gentle affection

and it’s exactly due to his years of isolation, life of only fighting and killing he is completely hopeless when it comes to your relationship

even more than usual if he’s in heat and the illuminated bird in him is screeching at him to mate with you every time he sees you

it’s hard being an adepti, horny for his lover but can’t really say or do anything due to his embarrassment

he would rather break his contract to rex lapis than admit to you that he’s horny for your cock

sadly, cloud retainer has noticed that xiao has been acting weird and came to the conclusion that he was experiencing his first ever heat and proposed to him to “seduce” you as humans say

“one thinks the conqueror of demons should use the act of seduction on his mate. i heard from ganyu that mortals do such a thing when they’re feeling sexually needy”

“for the last time, please stop calling them my mate…”

and that’s what led to the usually cold, stoic and reserved yaksha asking verr goldet for some advice with an unusually red face and meek voice

verr did indeed gave him advice as his request but uhhh how would he even bat his eyelashes and sway his hips? is it something akin to a dance? does he have to dance to you to seduce you? cue a confused, horny illuminate bird chirping

the day sucked, you were tired and you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with your sweet songbird and sleep. sadly the mentioned adepti was nowhere to be seen. you have checked your shared bedroom, the entirety of wangshu inn - even going up and down using the stairs a few times - and even checked bishui plains where one of the statues of the seven is located.

“xiao? dear where are you?” this was the 4th time you had called for the bi-colored male today. usually it only takes a single call for him to teleport in front of you in a black and teal smokes and yet it took another one before your sweet songbird decided to show up.

shoving you down to lay on the pile of soft blankets and pillows, xiao got on top of your crotch, straddling them with a heavy blush and hazy eyes as he sloppily kissed you. whines tumbled out of his mouth as his breathing stuttered, rutting himself on you with a frantic need as his lips and sharp fangs brushed over yours in a messy kiss.

grabbing at his dual colored locks, you gave it a slight tug to take a breather, distancing yourself from him as the yaksha whined loudly, chasing after your lips with a fervor want with open mouth.

“please… p-please… touch-touch me! touch me, kiss me - anything!” he almost sobbed, face dusted in deep red as his pretty golden eyes tried to focus on yours with tears welling in them. cloudy eyes, mouth closing and opening over and over his small fangs peeked past his lips - trying to kiss you again, taste you - anything!

seeing the yaksha's current state, you couldn't help but grin. an odd feeling of excitement of corrupting the yaksha twisting and bubbling in your stomach as you reached out your free hand to caress the tiny, barely noticeable bulge in his pants, causing xiao to buck his hips with a loud moan.

he was in for a long night.

#nobu.writes #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub!genshin impact #sub!xiao #sub xiao #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #xiao x reader smut #xiao smut #sub!character #sub character #x dom reader #dom!reader #dom reader #dom gn reader

[meownotgood]

cherry waves / hayakawa aki

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you, and there's nowhere he tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him.

cherry waves - deftones

all my love to @kentoangel for giving me the inspiration to make this fic!!!! ilysmmmmm!!!!!!!!!! 💗

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, cunnilingus, tender sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, smoking, established relationship, lots and lots of i love you's, soft dom aki

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you. 

He tells you every single day. Before he goes to work, he leaves a note on the fridge: There's cash on the coffee table if you want to go out and treat yourself. Have a good day baby. I love you. :) His handwriting is neat, sleek, and formal, like him personified with pen, but when he gets to the I love you, the letters seem to become a bit messier. He scribbles them nervously, as if he feels a little embarrassed about writing it, about seeing the words on the paper, tangible and real. Regardless, you pluck the note off the fridge and keep it in your drawer, alongside the hundreds of others he's written for you. 

With his voice, he asserts it even more. When he manages to get a break at work, he steps aside to call you for as long as he can, even if it's only for a few minutes. He tells you he loves you before he hangs up the phone, says how much he misses you while admiring the polaroid of you in his wallet. I think about you every second that I'm here. I can't wait to come home to you. 

He'll profess his love in the late hours of the night, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, while he holds you close to his chest. He litters your forehead with the lightest, most delicate of kisses, as though you're made of porcelain beneath his lips. The words are uttered drowsily, like they're heavy in his throat, and he whispers them over and over again, as if his fondness is spilling over, uncontained. You're already fast asleep in his arms by now, so his I love you's fade into the darkness, but perhaps you'll end up hearing them in your dreams. 

It slips off of his tongue again when he shares lunch with you. He takes an orange from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, peels it, pulls the pieces clean apart. There's an odd number of slices. He gives you the extra one. The citrus tastes sweet on his tongue, just as sweet as what falls from his lips. God, I love you so much, you know that? It catches you a bit off guard when he says it out of no-where, but before you can ask him where his sudden remark came from, he's shutting you up with a kiss that tastes sugar-coated. 

He's just lucky to have you. Lucky and oh-so grateful to share both his life and his love. This quiet scene, shared between only the two of you: it's simple, but he's never felt more alive. Aki is finally able to live how he's always wanted, enjoying the most mundane of moments with the one he genuinely loves, who loves him just as much. 

If he is the moon — cold, monochrome, and stormy — then you're definitely the sun, shining like rays of daybreak light and eternally warm like a summer's heatwave. In a world of devils, of heartache and the bitter taste of blood, you would be his idea of an angel. 

He's still not sure if he even deserves this, nor does he understand how someone like him got so damn fortunate. And it's cheesy, but he wouldn't trade this life for any other, or for anything in the universe. He just wishes he got the chance to meet you, to cherish you and this life, so, so much sooner. 

All he can do now is make the most of it, tell you he's in love with you in as many sentences as he can possibly fit it into, kiss you until his lips are bruising, promise you, I'll stay with you, for as long as this world will allow. Cross my heart and hope to die, my love. 

There's nowhere else he belongs but here. His arms belong wrapped around you, his lips belong on yours, he longs to be as intertwined with you as possible. There's nothing he wants to say more than your name and infinite chants of I love you, I love you, I love you. 

And there's nowhere Aki tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him. The phrase is whispered in your ear, warm and true, the slightest bit shaky. "You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I'm so in love with you." He says the words softly, but in your chest, they feel like the intense blaze and explosion of a sky filled with fireworks. 

A vinyl spins and spins in the humble record player, and the speakers play a song. The low music resounds in harmony with the soft pitter-patter of rain. Droplets blanket the tin roof above and then tap gently against the window. Silk curtains are pulled slightly ajar, and blurry, fluorescent lights from the city shine through fogged up glass, illuminating the dim room. 

His clothes and yours lie in a heap on the floor. He slipped off his oxfords at the door, shed his suit jacket over the couch. You loosened his tie and tossed it aside, popped each button on his dress shirt, unfastened his belt and his zipper to pull down his slacks. You reached into his hair and tugged on his hairtie until it came free from the topknot and the dark strands fell around his face. 

He pulled your pants down and off of your legs, then hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. He kissed you through the fabric, grinning when your legs shivered, before taking them off, leaving you in only the shirt you were wearing.  

The album playing is one Aki picked out. The music itself is a bit grungy, maybe even a little out-of-style, but it's one of your favorite bands, and since it's your favorite, it became his too. He plays the cassette you gave him in the car when he drives, listens to the record on loop when you're gone because it always reminds him of you. 

Strands of his hair tickle your face when he places a tender kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, your jaw, and finally your lips, where he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger to drag you in closer. He doesn't want to pull away, and so he lingers for far longer than necessary, kissing you softly, effortlessly. 

Your arms wrap around him, and you hold the back of his head with one hand, trail your fingers down his back with the other, and trace the scars that are littered between his shoulder blades. His hands find your thighs and he grips them carefully, slowly spreading them apart. 

He pulls away to pepper your neck with kisses and playful nibbles of his teeth, his lips unable to stay off of you. His fingers trail up, under your shirt, and on your chest, below your ribcage, his fingertips trace shapes onto your skin. It tingles when he draws circles, hearts, spells out the letters of his name with a feather-light touch, wishing he could engrave them in. If he could, he'd cover every last inch of you with his own being, until there's unmistakable proof that he was there, that he's in love with you. For now, the hickeys he's leaving on your nape will have to do. 

"So gorgeous," He mutters against your skin, words muffled, breath hot. "God, I just adore you." His voice is deep, quiet, as smooth as the velvet sheets and as familiar as the guitar riff you've long since memorized in this song.

When Aki leans back, there's a faint grin on his face, and the kindest look in his eyes. Just looking into them makes you feel like you're drowning in warmth. It's hard to recall when you first met him, it feels like forever ago. His gaze was so cold and frigid then, but now, it's taken on a much softer hue. 

Aki dotes on the fact that you're wearing nothing but his own shirt. It's one of his old t-shirts that you dug out from his dresser, and it's a baggy fit, but it looks beautiful on you, he thinks. His palms glide under it, caressing your bare skin. From this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, arms sprawled out with hands upturned, you look absolutely darling, like a dose of fathomable heaven. 

Your senses are filled with the smell of his sheets, his clothing, and his laundry detergent. His cigarettes, his room, just the smell of him, it makes your head spin, and you melt into the comfort and familiarity of it all. You reach up to tuck his messy hair behind his ears, fiddling with the piercings on his lobes as his hands travel down. The glint in his earrings capture the hazy glow of the city lights. 

His hands reach your hips and he holds them tight, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on your skin. He lifts them, aligns you, takes a deep breath. His heart pounds with anticipation, but he looks to you, asks if you're ready first, and only when you nod does he continue. With a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat, then a fragile gasp and whine, he steadily presses inside you. 

You're so wet from the hours Aki spent teasing you before this, and so messy from the countless times you've came already for him. The inside of your thighs are shiny and glistening, covered with the love bites and pretty bruises he left there. 

It's on nights like these where Aki not only tells you how much he loves you, but shows you. He pleasures you all night long, until you've cum over and over again for him. Until morning light starts to seep through the blinds, and you're too tired to continue, falling asleep in his arms after the waves of pleasure subside. 

Earlier, he made you cum on his fingers, one hand holding his cigarette, the other nestled between your legs. He takes a drag in from the cig, tilting his head to exhale the smoke away from you, all while his middle finger runs up and down your pussy. He gets it wet with your slick before slowly pressing it inside, all the way to the knuckle. He drags it in and out, in and out, and when you buck your hips to meet his hand, he adds another. 

His ring finger stretches you out deliciously, and once it's all the way in, you can feel the cool metal of his promise ring pressed up against your entrance. 

It rests on the base of his finger: a modest, silver band. You wear a similar one, but yours is adorned with a bright, glittering diamond. He saved all his paychecks for months, surprising you with the matching set on your anniversary. Since then, he never takes it off, his promise to be yours anchored to him wherever he goes. 

He'll replace them someday; he's going to ask you to marry him in the future, and he's already convinced himself of it. He hopes you'll take his last name. There's no-one in the world he trusts more with the Hayakawa surname than you, and no-one else he'd rather pass it on to. Giving you that piece of himself would be a blessing. 

Aki's hands are so large and so pretty, big enough to eclipse your own when he holds them, or to cup your entire face with his palm like it's what he was meant to do. And his fingers are perfect; they're so long and slender, and they feel so good as he fucks you with them. You gasp when he curls them upwards, and his lips can't help but form a smile around his cigarette. 

You're always so receptive to his touch. You still giggle every time he kisses the back of your hand or the tip of your nose. Your heart still pounds when he embraces you, when his eyes lock with yours for too long. You fall apart for him every time, just as easily as the first. 

He finds it endearing, and he can't help but want to please you more and more, give you all of his affection. He stamps his cigarette out into the ashtray resting on the nightstand, abandoning it to put his full attention on you, whispering the most divine words into your ear. 

Listen to how wet you are. It feels good, right? Tell me it feels good.

He pumps his fingers in and out to a careful, tender rhythm. He makes sure to press them in enough so that each time, you feel the cold edges of his ring. 

Oh, baby, are you close? Don't hold back, I want you to cum for me. 

Aki can feel you tightening around his fingers. He notices your breathing picking up and your body starting to tense. He drags his fingers out and brings them to your clit, where he rubs tight circles, just how you like, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him time and time again. 

That's it. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart. You make me want you so bad. 

Your thighs are sore, and your whole body is trembling, but Aki holds you close while you come down. You can go one more time for me, can't you, baby? Of course, when he asks you that, the answer is always going to be yes. 

He's dying to taste you, and so he makes you cum again, on his tongue this time. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, onto every bone, mole, and soft spot his lips can find. Raise your hips a little for me, He instructs, sliding his arms under your thighs when you do so, There you go. Can you spread your legs a bit more for me too? 

He laps up the mess, presses his tongue in, fucks you with it. The rich flavor of his cigarettes still lingers in the back of his throat, and your sweet taste combined with it makes him feel delirious. 

He buries his face between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit, and he groans into your cunt when you run your fingers through his hair and pull him in. He kisses your clit with soft lips, licks it with the flat length of his tongue, takes it into his mouth and sucks on it hard. You're so pretty, he mumbles, but you hardly hear it. Your legs wrap around his head, and he doesn't stop until you're cumming for him again. 

Making you cum, listening to your pretty moans, watching you fall apart to his touch, it gets him so hard. His dick aches, throbs ceaselessly in his briefs, leaks out where it rests thick and heavy against his thigh. His mind goes foggy with lust, and he can feel the pure and utter want for you burning in his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest.

There's something about you that always makes him want more, makes him crave you, and causes him to desire everything you're willing to let him have. It's insatiable. He wants to be inside you so bad he can hardly stand it, but honestly, he could get off on just this alone. 

He could do this all night, surely. He always puts your pleasure above his own, and he would worship your body forever, make each curve and dip into his form of a prayer, if you'd only let him. He'll make you cum as many times as you can take, and as many times as you want. Whatever you want him to do, he'll do it for you. However much you want him to give, he'll give you even more. At your request, he'd give you every last part of himself. 

But on nights like this, even when your eyelids are heavy and threatening to shut, you need more of him. You want to be closer, so even when you're spent, you always end up begging him please, Please, Aki. I want you to fuck me. He wants it just as badly, if not more, and when you ask him like that, how can he resist? He'll always give you exactly what you ask for. 

His cock is thick and so fucking pretty, a perfect stretch when he fills you up. Aki takes his time, eases into you slowly, and you savor every single inch of him. The sight of his dick pressing inside you is damn near intoxicating, and he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze away if he tried. His pupils are blown, eyes glazed over, and his lips are slightly parted, quivering. 

When he's finally all the way in, you can feel his dick in your stomach, and he groans, pulling you in even closer by your waist. He hasn't even moved yet, and his head is already spinning. He waited so long for this, ended up teasing himself just as much as he teased you, and you're so tight around his cock, the feeling might consume him. He doesn't think he'll be able to last long, but he'll try. 

"Oh, fu-uck, baby-" Aki's voice cracks into a moan as he starts to fuck you, echoing a wet sound when he rolls his hips out, then presses back in deeply. He mumbles, "You feel so amazing, I love you. God, I love you." 

Before you can tell him you love him too, his lips come crashing onto yours. He kisses you slowly, at first, but he can't help himself from wanting to indulge in you further. Your lips feel like all he could ever need as they mesh with his. Then, he's kissing you deeply, breathlessly, like he can't get enough. He sucks on your tongue, sighing when he thrusts into you. He buries his cock in deeper just to feel you moan more into his mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, holding it back, keeping it out of his face. 

Honestly, the feeling itself isn't what turns you on the most. It's knowing that he is the one fucking you, Aki's dick is inside you. Aki, whose cold exterior you broke past, whose heartache you managed to cure. Aki, who deserves so much more than what the world has given him, who is nothing like what people say about him. 

Aki, who keeps his arm linked with yours while he makes dinner, trying out new recipes to find which one you like the best. Who wipes the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs, who gives you his jacket when it's cold outside, who still blushes when your knee bumps his in public, who makes you feel completely and utterly safe with him. Aki, who kisses you just like this, like the world is going to end. 

The way Aki loves is intense, but tender. It's exhilarating, but sincere. It never fails to take your breath away, yet still feels like a home you can return to. The kind of love that grounds you, but not without allowing you to fall for him more and more. The kind of love that's purposeful in everything, because in every possible instance, you're the one he wants, and the one he needs. You, and only you. 

When he draws away from you, his lips are ghosting on yours, and he whispers it again, "I love you," voice just barely audible over the music and the downpour. He pulls back further, reaches a hand into his messy hair to brush it out of his face, then cups your cheek. You lean into his warmth, his touch. You can feel the outline of his ring, and he has a stupid grin on his face when he mumbles, "Look at you. So beautiful, and you're all mine. How did I get so lucky?" It's true, but really, he's all yours — so hopelessly addicted to you. 

Aki makes love to you softly, almost lazily. It's sweet and passionate, and gives you a chance to enjoy the atmosphere and every little detail of it all. Aki's cheeks are flushed, his eyelashes flutter, and his chest heaves with every ragged breath he takes in. His moans are loud and needy, each roll of his hips deliberate, never too hard, because he knows how to make you cum without the need to be rough. 

Every time he shoves his cock in, it sends blood rushing to his head, and with each drag out, he whines from the pressure. He's sweating, and he grabs your shirt to hastily tug it up. Not enough to take it off, just enough to expose your chest to him. 

The storm is picking up now, and the rain has grown to a loud, universal drum as it pours from the sky. The record player is still going, vinyl spinning idly as it plays the next song on the album. Aki fucks you through it, nearly to the rhythm, but he isn't paying attention to the music. He's just focused on you. The ambience is drowned out by the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Aki's voice in your ear. 

"So good," Aki slurs, and one of his hands grips your waist, while the other finds yours to hold it tightly, your fingers interlaced with his. "You take my cock so well." 

"Aki… I..." You stammer out, unable to say much more than that. 

"Yeah?" Aki stops completely, giving you a second to breathe. He leans in a little closer, studies your face, and quietly asks, "What is it, baby? What do you want?" 

"Want you deeper, I want you to fuck me more, please-"

"Shit," Aki sighs, clearly losing his composure for a second. He already had an idea of what you were going to ask for, but he still absolutely loves when you beg for him. He exhales a shaky breath, "Okay, baby, okay." 

Aki's pace quickens a little, and he presses his body closer to yours, desperate to get himself even deeper inside. He's gasping, finding it difficult to breathe as he fucks into you harder, with less of his deliberate movements, and more of his own desperation. He's losing control, little by little, with each thrust and each noise he pulls out of you. You wrap your arms around him, and it's like he's falling into you. 

All it took was that little bit of extra speed, shoving his cock in deeper, harder, and your heavenly moans and cries into his ear for him to be just barely hanging onto the edge. You feel good, way too good. Too perfect, and he's too vulnerable, linked inseparably with you. 

"Oh my God, I c-can't, you feel so- fuck, fucking amazing," He stammers, barely able to get the words out, moaning after every unsteady thrust into you as he begins to lose his rhythm. His high-pitched whines are a perfect contrast to the deep vibrato of his voice. "I can't, baby, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum-" 

He's trying so much to hold out, but he's so needy, and it's made evident by his moans and the love-drunk expression on his face when he leans back to look at you. His eyebrows are knitted, his lips are parted, and he's flushed red, all the way to the tips of his ears. Despite how badly he wants it, he thinks he might be able to keep going for a little while longer, but when you start begging for him to let go, to cum for you, he's done for. 

He gives you a couple more desperate thrusts before he pulls out, panting hard, and his dick throbs in his hand as he jerks it. He whines your name as his cum spills out all over your pussy, your stomach, and your thighs. All over his own trembling fingers and down his knuckles, making his hand sticky and messy. 

Aki takes a moment to catch his breath. Strands of hair stick to his forehead from his sweat and he does his best to brush them away. He glides two fingers through the mess on your stomach, then collects what drips down your thighs, before bringing them to your mouth. You open before he has to tell you to, and he smears his cum all over your tongue. You suck on his slender fingers and twirl your tongue around his whole hand, licking up every last drop. 

"That's it," Aki praises, exhaling a shaky sigh, "Such a good girl for me. You made me feel so fucking good, baby." 

You hum around his fingers in response. 

He's close to collapsing, his whole body covered in a blanket of exhaustion, but his focus is on you. He's still so damn hard, already dribbling pre-cum out all over your soft stomach. And he's still so eager to please you, still so desperate to have you. Watching you take his fingers just reignited that feeling. 

Aki takes his fingers out, and they're wet with your own saliva when he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks. He swallows, and the way his normally resolute voice wavers implies that he's the slightest bit nervous when he admits, "I still need you." 

"I need you too. Please."

The tip of his dick is sensitive, to the point where just pressing it to your entrance makes him whine and briefly falter. He strokes up the length, trying to get himself used to the stimulation, swiping his palm over the tip to smear the shaft with his pre-cum. He doesn't want to make you wait for too long, so he brings it back to your pussy, dragging it over, getting it messy with your slick and his cum before he slowly eases back in. 

"Oh, God," Aki's head falls, and you wrap your legs around his back, tangling your fingers in his hair. You run them through close to the scalp, gently holding the back of his head, and he stammers, "S-So… It's so…"

It's so sloppy, so wet. So overwhelming, and all too much. His cock slides in and out with ease, and he fucks into you as much as he can possibly handle without falling apart at the seams. Your thighs are soaked, his dick is unbelievably messy, and the wet sound echoed each time he shoves himself in is so damn loud. 

"Babydoll, I'm-" Aki mumbles, but he's unable to finish his sentence, breaking into a string of pathetic whimpers. He feverishly gives your neck open-mouthed kisses as a way to shut himself up. 

The overstimulation is already starting to get to him. His legs are weak and shaky, threatening to buckle under the weight of each thrust into you. His dick is so goddamn sensitive that he can hardly handle this, and yet, he can't stop. The only thing running through his brain, through every nerve in his body is that he needs you, he needs this. He grabs your face with his hand and you hook your arms around his neck to pull him in, your lips clumsily connecting with his. 

Aki moans into your mouth as he kisses you, and mutters an I love you that slurs off of his tongue when yours swirls around his. The taste of himself on your mouth has him reeling, and he can't stop himself from rutting his hips into you hard. When he pulls away, there's drool dripping down his chin, and he wipes it hastily with the back of his hand. 

With his head in such a blur, he ends up telling you every little thought that enters into his mind. "Feels so g-good… So warm… Really w-wet, ah-" 

God, you just love him when he's like this. So fucked out and drunk on you he can hardly speak, his head so cloudy all he can think about is how you're making him feel. It's a side of him only you get to see; he's cold and serious with everyone else, but he's got a soft spot for you. The truth is, even when it seems like he's the one in control, you're the one who's held all the power over him from the start. You always have. 

You can leave hickeys on his neck that all his co-workers will see, scratch up his back with your fingernails until they leave red streaks across his skin, touch him anywhere and everywhere you please because he's yours to touch. Play with his pretty cock all you want, until he's pleading with you to let him cum, to give him more because he needs it. You can stuff his own tie in his mouth to keep him quiet, wrap your hands around his throat while you ride him. And he'll love every second of it, pure devotion reflected in the gaze he can't seem to keep off of you.  

He'll let you do anything you want to him, and he'll give you anything you ask for. Especially when he's this overwhelmed, drowning in his own pleasure. And if there's anything you want right now, it's to watch him lose his mind for you. 

So when you tell him to fuck you deeper, harder, pleading, Don't you dare stop, not even for a second, he'll do just that. When you tell him to kiss you, bite you, he does, placing hurried pecks over every inch of your face, leaving impressions of his teeth on your neck and shoulders. And when you tell him to keep talking to you, praise you, I want to hear your voice, his words are incoherent and breathless, but he stammers them all the same, and without a second thought. 

"Love you… I… A-Ah, it's-" Aki manages, trying to form something complete, but failing every time. His breaths are quickened and his chest is heaving when he begs, "Please," although he's not sure what he's even begging for. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and beads of sweat drip down his forehead. It's too much, but he needs you so badly he can't quit. He's desperate to feel you cum on his cock. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him, secured at the ankles. You glide your hands up his chest, then to where his collarbones jut out. Over his shoulders, up to his jawline, then down again to squeeze his arms. He's pretty, so pretty, the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

He can feel you tightening around him, and can tell your moans are picking up as he fucks you. His thrusts are shallow; he needs the friction, but also longs to stay deep inside you. He's dizzy, seeing stars, and even though he's so overwhelmed that he's not sure if he can handle cumming again, a familiar knot starts forming in his gut. He chokes out, "C-Close." 

"Me too," You reply, "Want you to cum for me, fill me up, please, Aki-" 

There's no way, absolutely no way he can resist that. Between you begging for him and the way you say his name, he's done for. He'll always give you just what you want. 

The tension snaps, and Aki grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him, fucking you through his orgasm, filling you with his cum. He cums so hard, so loud, so desperately, his muscles tightening, his dick throbbing in your stomach, all while he whines your name and a mix of disjointed, endless I love you's. 

His thrusts become messy, unrelenting, and he doesn't stop, not when it sounds like he can hardly breathe, or when his whole body is trembling. Before he collapses onto you, he wedges a hand between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The feeling is one of utter euphoria, and it's enough to bring you to the edge. You slur his name over and over again as you finish, saying it in ways that make his heart flutter and swell in his chest. 

He slows when you're finally spent, his voice in your ear hoarse, but gentle, words spoken under his breath. "That's it, cum on me, baby. Just like that... Oh my God...."

The record has long since stopped by now, and the rain still falls, but nowhere near as hard as before. It creates an air of silence, and you're suddenly aware of your own heart in your ears, and Aki's heavy breaths, his swallows and meager gasps for air. His weight pins you to the mattress, and he pulls out incredibly slow, wrapping his arms around you to hold you even closer to himself. He smells of sex and sweat, of lingering smoke and a cozy familiarity. 

"You okay?" He asks, finally managing to catch his breath, whispering into the shell of your ear. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." 

"I love you so much. More than I could ever find a way to express," Aki sighs, taking your hand into his own, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me." 

You give a little half-hearted chuckle, and then you reply, "I love you too. So much." 

Aki pushes himself up a little to meet your gaze. His cheeks are covered in a rosy blush, and when your free hand comes to cup his cheek, he holds it there, his fingers tenderly rubbing circles into your knuckles, brushing over the curve of your ring. 

He smiles, softly, warm enough to melt fresh snow, and the bridge of his nose crinkles ever-so slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, "You tired, baby?" 

You nod, eyelids heavy, your whole body weak and weary. Aki leans in, and you can feel his smile against your lips when he kisses you. He holds it, keeping his lips on yours for far longer than he needs to, like he always does. When he pulls back, he whispers, "Let's get you ready for bed." 

Aki gives you as much time as you need to rest, and when you're ready, he tugs your shirt over your head and carries you to the bathroom. He showers with you, lets you lean on him while he washes your hair, and kisses every inch of your skin while you both relax under the hot water. He dries you off, helps you get dressed, kisses the tip of your nose, asks if you're hungry. You say that you're not, but he offers to make you something anyways, and for his cooking, you can't refuse. 

When the two of you finally sink back into bed, Aki holds you close. His shape fits to yours perfectly, like two halves of the same whole. You can feel the metronome of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. His hand grabs yours, absentmindedly, like the way magnets are pulled together, destined to find one another. 

"I have the day off tomorrow, what would you like to do, baby?" He asks as he plays with your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. 

"Mmm…" You feign thinking, but really, you're just trying to fight off your ever-growing sleepiness. "Can we go shopping?" 

"We can go wherever you'd like. You wanna go out to eat, too? We haven't in a while." 

It's because your cooking is so good, You think, but you answer with a nod so light you're hardly sure if he even noticed. He places a kiss on the crown of your head and replies, "Alright, we'll go somewhere nice." 

In your head, you imagine how the day with him tomorrow will go. Aki will slip out of bed to make breakfast as silently as possible, careful to avoid stepping on the spots that make the floor creak. You'll wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, to breakfast in bed. Aki will take you to the stores he knows you love, the ones that have the clothes you always say you feel the best in. He'll take you out to the restaurant you never ask for, because you know it's too expensive, but he secretly knows it's your favorite. And of course, he'll pay for everything. 

You begin to fall asleep as the scenes play out in your mind, melting into the lull of his soft breathing and the warmth of his arms. 

Aki's voice is drowsy when he asks, "You still awake?" 

There's no response, so he pulls you closer, holds you safely, presses your head to his heart, and tells you one last, I love you. 

And when he drifts off as well, he'll love you still, wholeheartedly. Even in his dreams, then until he breathes his last, and when he does, he's sure he'll continue to love you in the lifetime after this one. 

I'll love you as much as my heart can take. Cross my heart and hope to die. 

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa #aki x reader

[dragonflylady77]

i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?” 

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #valentine's day #florist billy hargrove

[gvfmarge]

My first fic????!!! Who am I??

Jakey blurb:

I’m so so nervous to post this. I don’t have many followers and I haven’t really interacted with many of you. But I just had this idea in my head and I had to write it down, it’s super duper short. I’m not a writer by any means and I didn’t really edit this, so please be kind. 🥺

This is loosely based off of my experience with my 2 babies and our first days at home. (It’s really not as beautiful as this makes it out to be and the exhaustion is REAL- in case you don’t have kiddos)

This is probably a flop and I doubt anyone will actually read but here it is. Also, I’m on mobile so I hope this posts okay and is readable. Again, please be kind and I would always love some type of feedback or critiques!!

Trigger warnings: Newborns and exhaustion. Really nothing but pure sickening fluff.

Jake (husband/dad) x Reader

~~~

“Are you just soooo hungry, is my sweet girl just starving to death?” He hums to her as he zips up the lilac colored floral footie pajamas. As he scoops her up from the changing table, he turns to you with his toothy grin. “Momma’s right here baby.” He hushes her cries with his whispered promises. Jake slips Nora into your arms and gently sinks down into the bed beside you.

You’ve always loved Jake. You’ve loved him since the first time you met eyes. He takes up every ounce of your heart. But there is just something in the way he rocks your daughter, something in the way he sings to her, the way he looks at you while you’re holding her that makes you realize you never knew how much you actually loved him. You never believed your heart could hold any more love for this man, but watching him love the child you created with him has made you feel like the world has stopped for only you and your new family.

Today is your second full day of being home from the hospital after giving birth. It’s nothing like you imagined, it’s harder than you ever imagined but Jake has been nothing short of amazing. You have never felt more taken care of and cherished before.

“I can’t believe she’s actually real.” He says looking down at her in awe while she nurses. You can see the love in his eyes, you can feel it radiating off of him. It has enveloped your entire life now. Every inch of your house is full of love because of this new life you have brought into it.

“I know, I still feel like it’s all a dream actually.” You whisper back, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It felt like she would never be here and here she is.” He hums in response and turns his head to kiss your forehead. You both sit tangled together while you feed Nora until she finally falls asleep in your arms.

Jake eventually slides off the bed when he notices your eyes getting heavy. “Let me take her for a while baby, you need to nap.” He says stretching out his arms to lift her off of your chest. “Are you sure? I’m okay, I really don’t feel tired.” As you’re yawning, you realize just how exhausted you are. Jake has barely let you lift a finger since you’ve been home from the hospital. He’s changed almost every diaper, cooked every meal, woken up with Nora almost every hour at night to help you feed her. “Aren’t you tired too? You’ve done so much, lay down with me and we can cuddle while she naps.” You’re hoping he agrees, you really don’t want him to take her and you really don’t want him to leave either.

He places Nora in her bassinet beside the bed and places his hand on her chest and she settles back down into sleep. He slowly walks to turn off the lamps around the room and closes the curtains, stretching his arms above his head as he walks back to his side of the bed and almost crashes his body into the mattress. “I’m so glad you said that because I think I might die if I don’t sleep.” He says muffled into his pillow.

You giggle at his dramatics and curl into his side, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. “I love you so much, Jake. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you just how much.”

“You already have baby, you’ve given me everything I could ever want and more. You’ve given me the perfect little family, that is all mine. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

As you both drift off into your nap, you both can’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Understanding now just how much this is all you’ve ever wanted.

#Greta van fleet #fanfic #gvf #jake kiszka x reader #fluff #Jake blurb #jake kiszka #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #jake fluff #jake kiszka fluff #my writing

[luxesiren]

⸻ 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃; a.arlert x black reader

➣ synopsis: in which armin is obsessed with you, headcanons

➣ warnings: minors do not interact implied smut, black fem!reader, uses she/her pronouns

➣ author’s note: hey guys! this is fully self indulgent and fully recycled because it came from my old account but i’ve been having an armin brainrot and i wanted to fulfill it with this🫠 it’ll probably be more fics coming soon

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

sfw

obsessed!armin would constantly take pictures of you, he’s your number one fan. he has a whole album of pictures dedicated to you and your beauty whenever you guys go out and you need your pictures taken — he’s already on it. armin had already taken bunches of pictures of you anyways.

obsessed!armin is always touching you wherever you guys go, he wants to make sure people know that you are his and his only but he’s subtle about it. he will place his hands on your waist and kiss your cheek but sometimes when he’s being really needy, his hand won’t leave yours and he won’t leave your side.

obsessed!armin watches you get dressed for date nights. he loves seeing what outfit you decide to wear for the special night he planned out for y’all. his favorite thing is when you ask him to put on your necklace with his initial around your neck and when you ask him to buckle your heels, he just loves you.

obsessed!armin is always posting you on his story/feed, he wants people to know how much he loves and cherishes you. he would repost your post and comment how pretty you look and he would always post your accomplishments and say how proud he is. people get tired of it but he doesn’t care cause he’s still gonna post his baby.

nsfw

obsessed!armin loves leaving hickeys on your body, he leaves big ones on your neck and smaller ones all over your body when he’s fucking you. he likes to let everyone know that you’re his — the necklace was never enough.

obsessed!armin loves to hear you say his name on a daily basis but he loves it even more when he’s inside you. he loves hearing his name fall from your lips as you lose yourself in pleasure, “fuck, baby, say my name. say it again” “fuck, min’. harder, baby, please.” he would record it and listen to it all the time if he could.

obsessed!armin has an album of pictures of you that he keeps for himself. every single picture is of you in different positions or sometimes just of you with his hand around your neck, he likes taking pictures of you when you’re in your most vulnerable state — with your permission, of course. you were skeptical at first but then you decided, fuck it, and you let him take as many pictures as he wanted.

obsessed!armin loves when you leave scratches on his back, he likes to look at them after y’all fuck because it makes him feel good, makes him feel like he did a good job taking care of you.

obsessed!armin loves when you praise him while he fucks you, he asks if it’s good and he yearns to hear your response of whether or not he fucked you good, “tell me if it’s good. is it good, baby? c’mon let me know.” “so good, armin. it’s so fucking good, love when you fuck me”

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

© 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐡𝟒𝐥𝐥 | don’t steal, copy, or repost to other websites such as wattpad or ao3. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

🏷️ : @phorxic

#✭ siren writes #self indulgence time #armin arlert #armin brainrot fr #armin arlet smut #armin x black reader #armin x reader #armin attack on titan #armin aot #armin arlet fluff #armin arlet headcanons

[julianalvarez9]

named after you / john stones

author's note: my mind hasn't stopped thinking about that damn interview where john speaks about bernardo's dog named after him so i had to write this. started as a blurb, ended as a full fic + socmed au. i hate myself.

wc: 1.5k words.

pairing: john stones x footballer!reader (doesn't really impact much of the story, except she's injured).

face claim: esme morgan 💌

contains: excessive use of pet names, roasting jack grealish just because (i love you jack), they're in love but they don't know it, mentions of injury and a foot cast but nothing too detailed (because i don't know shit about injuries)

summary: your best friend is dumbfounded to learn that you've never had a dog, not even as a kid. he goes above and beyond to change that when the circumstances ask for a way to cheer you up.

"you've never had a dog before?".

john can't believe his ears. but to be fair, everyone at the little studio set where you're filming the next video for city's youtube channel is as incredulous as he is. you just laugh at his reaction, before explaining. "well, i wanted one when i was a kid, but my parents said i was too small to have one. and then i just never asked again".

his brows just keep on furrowing, and it's like he had forgotten about the stack of cards he had in hand, with the 20 questions he was supposed to ask you for the video prepared by the team. "yeah, but you're what? 24 now? you could have a dog," he said, like it was obvious. to be fair, he was right. after all, you lived alone: no partner, no kids, no family in the country. having a little pet to take care of and love would make you happy, but you weren't sure if you would have the time to take care of a little dog now, with how packed your schedule is. maybe that's why you hadn't really thought about getting a furry friend. "i suppose. didn't think about it before," you shrug.

"fine. i'm getting you a dog".

it's been months since that interaction, and you haven't thought about john's promise since. the video went live on the team's youtube channel a few weeks after, and as expected, everyone loved it. the friendship you had with the city player was always cherished by the fans, and you couldn't really blame them. he was your best friend since you arrived in the club, and having his support from the beginning really made the adaptation period easier.

you realized how much you basked in his affection and care when you suffered a season-ending injury. it wasn't that hard, to be honest, but since the end of the season was less than a month away, you knew that the recovery period would be longer than what it took to get you back on the pitch in time for the last game. john has been there from the first moment, sending you a message as soon as he saw you went down on the grass. you only saw it after the medical exams were done, when the doctors had already told you that you probably wouldn't get to play again until next season.

facing the reality about you not being there for your teammates, not being able to help them in any way, shape or form, at least where it mattered to you -in the pitch-, was rough. you went from the training center for recovery to home, all day, every day, never getting quite far from the prefabricated route: your only focus was to get healthy again. you weren't even seeing john that often, with his schedule being as overwhelming as always and you don’t even daring to set a foot in the etihad if you weren't there to play.

but john, your good best friend john, knew exactly what to do to cheer you up.

“are you home?”.

the call alone was weird. john wasn’t one to talk much on the phone, and much less, while driving. if he wasn’t using free hands, you’ll kill him. “why are you calling me while driving, stones?”.

“asked you a question first. answer, little one”.

the nickname alone made you roll your eyes, and he swore he could picture your annoyed face in his mind. the joke had been running between you two ever since you two meet, really, not only because of the slight age gap, but also, due to how he towered over you. wasn’t rocket science, it was what his position on the field demanded, while you, as a striker, only had to be quick. “yeah, dad, i’m home”.

“whoa, what an attitude. i’m about to get home, so you better fix it”.

you couldn't even process him calling your place home, or protest against him coming without a longer notice -not a 2 second warning, like this one, because he had already hung up before you could even mutter a confused “what?”.

if looks could kill, you’d be charged with a murder.

you’re glaring at john’s car from the second it sets a wheel into your front yard. he’s quick in parking the car and stepping out of it, but instead of going to greet you, standing on the doorway with your arms crossed, he goes to open his rear door.

“what are you doing?” you ask, almost screaming, to ensure that he hears even if he’s quite far from you. john appears to be arranging something on the back of the car, but he smiles when answering your question. “go inside. wait on the sofa. eyes closed”.

you’re about to make a funny comment, except his smile goes away the second you take too long to fulfill his wishes. you decide to quit being difficult and, with a bit of difficulty due to the cast shoe you have in your feet, make your way to the couch. your eyes remain open, though, watching the match your team was playing on the tv. once you heard the door closing, you shut your eyes.

“do you have your hands ready?”.

you frown, but still, your arms are extended with your palms up per john’s request. soon, you’re opening up your eyes when you feel a warm ball of fur placed on your hands.

“john, did you get me a dog?”.

you almost have tears in your eyes when you place the little jack russell on your lap, and it curls into a ball, falling asleep almost instantly. “isn’t he the prettiest boy ever?” john coos, squatting so he can get a good look at the little dog you’re holding. “john, i can’t have a dog. i’m never at home,” you rationalize once the initial emotion has settled in. you start to think about your schedule, how you’re seemingly always away. the worry must have painted on your face, because the man in front of you notices it, and is quick to find your hand, previously resting on the little canine, to squeeze reassuringly.

“yes, you can. you’re home now, aren’t you?” he smiles, and you’re rolling your eyes, again, for what feels like the hundredth time today. “he’s gonna help with your recovery. but you don’t have to worry about him being alone here once you’re back: our schedules don't always match. when you can't have him, i'll take care of him". the way he’s looking at you now, with his fluffy hair and sweet smile is making you melt almost as much as the sight of the little puppy resting on your legs. 

long seconds pass before any of you say anything, too focused on your little friend, before you realize john hasn’t told you how he’s called. “what’s his name?” you ask, and he looks up at you before shaking his head. “doesn’t have one. it’s up to you”. the smile you have on your face after hearing him speak, has your best friend thinking that you’re up to no good. and he’s proven right when you open your mouth again. 

"i'm naming him after you".

his eyebrows furrow and he’s shaking his head again, clear discontent in his face now. "what? you can't. i won't allow you to," he opposes in a high pitched tone, and you laugh before answering. "why not? he's my dog,” you point out, and the puppy on your lap suddenly wakes up, probably awakened by the small argument held between both of you. you direct your hand to caress his little head, and he rewards you by licking your palm, almost like a little kiss. “i think he likes it. don't you, johnny boy?".

he has to straighten up so you don’t see the smallest pink rose to his cheeks when hearing you say johnny boy. he always told you he despised the nickname, which was why you had stopped using it, but instead, he lied because he liked hearing you say it.

"but why john?" he presses, again, hoping that, maybe, it’ll make you change your mind. he knows it's wishful thinking: after being friends with you for so long, john is aware that when an idea pops into your pretty brain, it’s almost impossible to shake it off. "first, you're the one that got him,” you list off, and it has him rolling his eyes. you think it’s funny how the roles are reversed, and the smallest giggle escapes your list before continuing with your explanation. “second, he's a jack russell".

"and? you could name him after jack," he says, and he’s hopeful when the doubt is planted on your face. it takes you a few seconds before you’re shaking your head, scrunching up your nose in disagreement. "nah, he can't jump that high”. you’ve switched your focus now, from person-john to dog-john, and your voice gets a little higher when speaking to him. “when you grow up you'll jump as high as your daddy here, won't you, pretty boy?".

john feels like he could faint by the amount of pet names that seem to flow effortlessly from your lips. "okay that's enough," he says, and you laugh at how agitated he is. "it's settled then. john stones, meet john stones".

yourusername

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yourusername everyone, meet john stones

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jackgrealish glad to see he's into football like his daddy 😂 johnstonesofficial

yourusername such a talented little boy 🤍

johnstonesofficial john stones jr*

yourusername so you're john stones sr?

rubendias 🧓🏻🧓🏻

mancity bring him to training next time! 💙

yourusername will do 🤝🏻

#football imagines #football imagine #football x you #football x reader #john stones imagine #john stones x reader #john stones instagram au #john stones social media au #john stones x you #john stones fluff

[pearlcigs]

⋆ mutuals

idea credit @valsthea

what color and song i associate with each of my moots + cute little messages (pls lmk if you want me to delete you off this list for any reason)

dm me if you wanna know why i associate you with your color and / or song ! :)) most songs only have 1 or 2 specific lyrics that i associate with a moot or just the melody but its okay

i only included moots from this acc incase the moots from @poionsedprose want nothing to do with me LMAO i didn't realize i had so many mutuals

ALPHABETICAL ORDER

𝐉𝐎 ( @abbysribbon ) : we've only just become moots but your art is so incredible ??!?! like you draw the characters so perfectly ?!?! im obsessed with your art !??!? i can't wait to get to know you more !!

𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 ( @ali3n00 ) : i guess i have to include you on this list ...

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 ( @baumbii ) : we haven't really talked much but you seem so nice and cool ! your blog is so cute and you are also so gorg omg , your writing is also literally so good i love it sm , esppp your ellie fic ! wish we could talk more !!

𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀 ( @coqvttes ) : i loveeee everything that you write sm and your blog aesthetic is acc so pretty ! i really really hope that you're doing better now , i'm so sorry that men are so gross to you , im so glad we're moots , we should def talk more !!

𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐍𝐄 ( @dizzyntrr ) : max my loveee, i love when your posts pop up on my dash, esp your mood boards !! your themes always eat, i love coming onto tumblr after waking up and seeing if you changed it yet :3 i also love your writing smm, i always reread your works

𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍 ( @edensdahlia ) : love love love your account theme and your writing, your fics are so comfy like their vibe is just so good ! i love that you include both male reader and a female reader as a genderfluid fanfic consumer :))

𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑 ( @fawnpires ) : first of all im so obsessed with your user, literal username genius, second i loveee your aesthetic it's so cool?? and also your writing oh my goddd , guilty pleasure fr ! i wish we talked more but you intimidate me (bc you're so cool)

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐋 ( @fxllfaiiry ) : you were one of my first mutuals and i was so excited when you followed me back bc your writing is so good?!? we haven't really talked much but trust your blog means a lot to me + your themes always eat !

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 ( @heartmorgue ) : your reblogs are always so real , i have to fight the urge to reblog everything that you reblog LOL you seem so fun to just hang out to do nothing (does that make sense ???) like just watch a movie in silence or smth if yk?

𝐌𝐈𝐙 ( @hermizery ) : your blog theme is so cool / navigation , it's one of the reasons i followed you in the first place ! i love your leon fic sm you should def write more if you want to obvi but you're gen so talented

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀 ( @killuintense ) : i don't interact with a lot of your posts cause most of them are nsfw but i love your sfw work ! also your blog theme is super cool i love it , i love ada >.<

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐑 ( @konigsluvr ) : you write konig so well ! your headcanons are always fun to read and i hope you post more in the future !! i like seeing your reblogs pop up on my dash cause some of your responses are so out of pocket they make me laugh

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 ( @kxjbr ) : i wish we interacted more ! i loved the comments you would always leave on my tatta fics , they would always make me smile and it was one of the reasons why i kept witting for alice in borderland for so long :)) also i love your fics you deserve way more recognition

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀 ( @leemonsblog ) : maliaaa we don't really talk anymore but i cherish every one of the conversations we had , i love talking to you and although you don't know it , you helped me through some tough times and i appreciate you sm for that + your fics were peak and i love them sm still , i miss you 'n i hope you're doing well ml !!

𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 ( @lovers-rck ) : we're fairly new to being mutuals but i love your content sm ! your art is so good first of all , and second of all , your fics are so entertaining ! i can't wait to get to know you more !

𝐃𝐄𝐕 ( @loveheartarthur ) : im so fr you and your blog alone have convinced me to watch rdr , its on my list of games to watch :3 your blog is so pleasing to look at and i love the farmer's daughter aesthetic !! i wish we could talk more , you seem so cool

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 ( @meravalemoi ) : i love your reblogs ! sometimes i'll just scroll through your blog at the end of the day when im super sleepy and just see what funny posts you reblogged :)

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈 ( @nadiasgf ) : we haven't really talked much but im glad we've had the few convos that we've had bc you're so easy to talk to (im just socially awkward) i'm so glad we became moots !!

𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋 ( @naivegh0ul ) : your ghosts fic feed me like im starving victorian child , everything you write absolutely slaps and i love reading it i would read your fics / blurbs all day if i could !

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 ( @ouchvns ) : venus ml , you are such a big inspiration for me and i remember following you and being totally shocked when you followed me back , i thought you were so cool (still do) and im so glad that we're moots !! :3 you're so talented and i love talking to you + themes always devour

𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐑 ( @rileysluvr ) : reading your fics n' stuff is like a little treat for me , i will read everything you write and lowkey your stuff's got me kicking my feet and giggling while i read it

𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍 ( @saintlulls ) : your cod ficsss bro , literally one of the reasons i decided to start writing for cod characters ! you're so talented and i wish nothing but the best for you , would love to interact more with you :)

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀 ( @solutopia ) : i love the fact that we both have guts series (obvi on my other acc) and though i have absolutely no clue who the character you write for is, your writing is so good so it doesn't even matter

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 ( @spiderst4rgirl ) : first of all you're genuinely so pretty likeee , second you seem so chill to talk to , i feel like we could have like a good movie marathon if yk what i mean

𝐑𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍 ( @starryririn ) : i love reading your poems !! you're such a talented poet i really enjoying reading them :)) im so thankful that you included me on your fic recs , it really means a lot and im glad that we're moots !

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐌 ( @the-verbatim ) : i love talking about cod characters with you and listening to you ramble about your hcs n' stuff , it makes me so happy to read :)) i can't wait to talk to you more !!

#🏷️ ⋆ mutuals #🧺 ⋆ to the moon and to saturn

[romirola]

Balancing Act: A Redactedverse Fanfic (18/18, Complete!)

READ THE EIGHTEENTH AND FINAL CHAPTER OF BALANCING ACT ON AO3 HERE!

The day of the Pack Anniversary Party is here! As the party winds down, David, Angel, Asher, Babe, Milo, Sweetheart, Darling, and Sam enjoy the dying embers of an intimate post-party bonfire. Together, the eight pack members reflect on the effects of the Exchange Ritual, the crazy experiences they had while their powers were swapped, and the love between them all.

As requested, I'm tagging @starlitangels, @shellssstuff, @ephxmerrxl, @thegoldenlittlerose, and @halscafe in updates to this story. I'll also tag people who generously let me use their headcanons in this story: @claracatlady, @pinksparkl, @floofdeloop, @frenchiefitzhere, @gwenifred, @palilious, @itsdaifuku, and @pycth. Again, thank you!

I also want to extend a huge thank you to anyone who read, commented on, kudoed, reblogged, bookmarked, or liked this story. It all means the world to me. I cherish every single interaction from readers for any story. Always have, always will. Balancing Act holds a special place in my heart for many reasons, including the long time (nearly a year!) it took to draft/post this fic, the length (~75K!), and the fact that I lost my father while posting this fic. Suffice it to say, David's flashback memory of Gabe in the last chapter took on new meaning for me. Anyway, I am so exceedingly grateful to anyone who allowed me to share this labor of love with you. It's my pleasure and privilege to be able to share work with the fandom. When kind people choose to leave feedback, it's truly an amazing act of kindness and connection. Thank you.

Interested in learning more about Balancing Act, my Redactedverse power swap fic? Check out this post. Or, just watch my blog, because I'm surely going to be reblogging/promoting this one for a while.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted power swap #redacted shaw pack #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel #redacted asher #redacted asher o'connell #redacted babe #redacted milo #milo greer #redacted sweetheart #redacted sam #sam collins #redacted darling #redacted darlin #redacted marie #marie greer #redacted colm #colm greer #redacted cutie #redacted huxley #redacted william #william solaire #redacted geordi #redacted gabe

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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[thefanficmonster]

hii would love anything with sydney adamu x reader if ur still taking requests!! or even just headcanons honestly just need more syd content on here

Hi hun! Oh I'm always delighted to write for Syd, I'm obsessed with her 🙈 Hope you enjoy the fic darling 💌

Pairing: Sydney Adamu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Bear S2, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: When Sydney's left to do menu research duty on her own, she comes to realize a few things.

Her calls are going straight to voicemail, it's half an hour past their agreed upon time to meet up and she's frankly fucking tired. She's used to doing things on her own, knowing not to expect much from other people. But still she's astounded by how shitty this is. It's not like they have all the time in the world - quite the opposite actually. Every second counts. And Carmy just wasted 1800 seconds of precious time Syd could've used for menu research.

She's given up hope and is now waiting for the train to the first restaurant on her list, puffs of smoke escaping her mouth as she periodically sighs in continuous disappointment she can't suppress no matter how hard she tries. The momentary tranquility she finds from the chaos of the restaurant is time she cherishes, until it's interrupted by her ringing phone.

She's not even surprised to see it's not Carmy who's calling. She is, however, surprised to feel a wide smile stretch across her face when she sees your name on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi." She hears the exhaustion in your voice, the yelling in the background explains the reasoning behind it. "I know you and Carmy are probably eating some wonderful food right now but I really need to talk to someone sane or I'll commit a crime."

A laugh rattles Sydney's chest, a genuine, wholehearted laugh, "Nah I'm actually bored out of my mind waiting for the train. Alone. I'm more than happy to keep you sane for a sec."

"Wait, alone? Why are you- Richie for fuck's sake put the hammer down!!! - Sorry about that. Why are you alone?" Syd hears the click of a lighter on your end, signaling you're out for a brief smoke to prevent the aforementioned potential crime. Possibly a murder. Possibly of Richie.

"Because Carmy has dropped off the face of the Earth." She sighs, stepping onto the train that's finally arrived, rescuing her from the Chicago cold.

"That's unlike him. I'd be concerned if - Fak, honey, you're gonna wreck the fucking pipe! - You know what, never mind that. I'm sure he's fine. You wanna....not be alone maybe? I wanna be anywhere but here right now."

Syd could use some alone time, or at least that's what she was telling herself before you called. Now, she couldn't imagine spending her afternoon any better than visiting different restaurants and doing menu research in your company. "I'd love that. I'll be at The Montgomery."

"Cool, cool. It's a date."

Sydney playfully rolls her eyes as she hangs up the phone, the dory smile refusing to leave her face.

The two of you have been essential for each other's survival and sanity ever since this whole restaurant fiasco started. Her with her brutal realism and you with your unconditional optimism, it's safe to say you balance each other quite nicely, bringing you close and forming a strong bond between you.

Somewhere along the way, flirting started being sprinkled throughout your interactions, mostly from your end. But it's not like it's one sided. You both have fun toying with the potential of there being something more. Just as a joke, of course.

But in every joke there's a half-truth. One half from her and one half from you forms the whole truth - that you're both idiots that should stop hiding behind teasing and sarcasm and just say what you're feeling.

There hasn't really been much time for that though, not among the dust, mold and other substances currently littering the restaurant-in-the-making. You're a little too busy knocking down walls to build bridges.

You make it to The Montgomery half an hour later only to find Syd nose-dived into a notepad, jotting down impressions and ideas. You're not nearly as well-versed into the culinary world as she is but you're still more than willing to endure her long rants about each menu item and how it can be made better and incorporated in their own.

She's been sending you ideas, even cooking a couple of them for you to try these past few days. You don't have the heart to tell her you have the palette of a broke college student - you're not crazy to turn down free and fancy food. But it's not like Syd doesn't know that though. She does it more as an expression of what she cannot say with words. As her very own love language, curated just for you.

"Is this seat taken?" You smile down at her, motioning to the chair across from her.

She looks up, her whole face lighting up when she sees you. "I'm sorry, it's reserved."

Chuckling, you sit down, shrugging off your jacket, "Well, they clearly don't deserve it if they have you waiting here all on your lonesome."

You receive a playful eye roll in response. You get that a lot from her. And you find it adorable.

Syd pushes one of the plates towards you, handing you the second fork, "Try this, it has potential."

With some analysis of the layout of plates and bowls on the table, you quickly gather that what she's offering you is a concoction of two different dishes. You can't pick out what the individual dishes might consist of so this collaboration of the two is a complete mystery to you.

But if Syd says there is potential, you'll be damned if you don't believe her.

You pick around the plate, getting a little something of everything on your fork. The flavor is so full and different, almost overpowering. However, you can clearly see that potential Sydney was talking about.

"Thoughts?" She prompts you, waiting for your rating.

You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows, trying your hardest to gauge what ingredients have been used. Unfortunately, to no avail. There's no denying that it's good though. "It's something." You eventually say, causing Syd to scoff and shake her head, "However..." This grabs her attention and her gaze is back on you instantly, "...it's too overpowering. Heavy, even. If we serve this we'll need to plate it with some lemon slices or something to freshen up the flavor. Lighten it up, you know?" Seeing the grin on her face, you find yourself getting a little flustered, unsure if you just made an absolute dumbass of yourself. "Did that make any sense?"

"My thoughts exactly." She laughs, reaching to switch out the plate in front of you for a different one, "Oh and also, I pulled some strings and booked us a kitchen to test some stuff out tonight."

Your brows perk up, the corner of your lips pulling up in a smirk, "Us?"

"Mhm..." She hums in response, avoiding your gaze briefly as she grows slight flustered. Look how the turn tables. "I mean, if you're free, of course."

"I'm always free for you." You contain any flirtier remark from escaping your mouth. Because this is sincere. This is nothing short of the whole truth. You're always free for her. Even if you aren't, you're willing to drop everything for her.

And little do you know, she feels the exact same.

Syd nods, finally meeting your eyes again, "Cool. It's a date."

Fucking dorks

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear fic #sydney adamu #sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu x you #sydney adamu imagine #syd adamu #sydney adamu fic #sydney adamu fanfic #sydney adamu fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #fic #fanfic #fanficiton #reader #x reader

[whatislovevavy]

II. Dogfight Football and Pool Tables

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x afab!pilot!reader 

Word Count: 5.7k

Series Summary: Mustang and Hangman have had sexual tension since the night they met at the Hard Deck at the start of a high-risk assignment. Each interaction further solidifies your callsign in the best ways. 

Warnings: 

Series overall: Sexual tension, swearing, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, and mildly insecure and shy reader, smut; p in v, oral (fem + male) receiving, dirty talk, dom!Jake, hint of sub!Jake

Author’s note: Hopefully you guys liked part I :) I did my best to make the reader’s physical attributes as ambiguous as possible when it came to descriptions to make it more inclusive to the reader. I want to get better at this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism or something you thought was strong or weak with the piece. Please be kind with criticisms. I'm sensitive. I’d like to thank @call-sign-jinx and @sebsxphia for betaing (?) each part of this fic, they’re both really sweet and write some good shit on their blogs, so be sure to check them out :)

I will be going through my followers and accounts that leave notes, especially on parts of this story that has smut, and if the blog doesn’t have an age on it, the blog will be blocked. 

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

These characters, except for Mustang, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Happy reading :)

—

Jake couldn’t help but listen to your voice through the radio every time he sat with his teammates in the lounge waiting for his turn in the sky. You cared so much about everyone, both in and out of the cockpit; always checking in, encouraging others on the team, and exchanging playful quips. And it didn’t help that you were one of the best pilots he’d seen, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. If he had to pick anyone flying a single seater that was a serious contender for team leader, it was you. The plane was merely an extension of your own body when you were in the sky, coming the closest of the group to getting Maverick out on the first day. 

Sure, you and Jake bickered, and he did everything in his power to rile you up and get under your nerves, but that was the only real contact he got. 

You had started to rub off on him, enough for Coyote to notice. Jake made him promise he wouldn’t tell a soul, as he was incessantly mocked and teased when he returned to his dorm at the end of the day. 

Hangman found himself perfectly tuned into anything that related to you in conversations; all info immediately became engraved in his memory. Whether it was stories about growing up with wild horses and the feisty blue roan mustang mare you trained during your teen years, Sweet Girl, whom you loved endlessly; or the time you accidentally flashed everyone at a Maryland beach when you were 23; or even the fact you didn’t like ketchup because it was too sweet and that your all-time favorite songs were by Fleetwood Mac and John Denver, but your favorite farm chore songs were by Doja Cat, Nicki Minaj, and Megan thee Stallion; starting as a form of rebellion against your parents but growing into adoration. 

All the little things that made up who you were.  

He secretly cherished the moments he got to see you and hear your soft voice, and found himself missing your signature lavender scent and close proximity when you were gone. 

Hangman would never admit to being jealous, but he was a bit jealous: he didn’t get to do more with you than just teasing and verbal jabs, and while it was fun riling you up, a deep part of him that he was still trying to comprehend wanted to get to know you on a more personal level. 

He fantasized for something like the night you met to happen again; he hadn’t come close to witnessing what he got a taste of that first evening. No matter his jabs or nicknames that secretly started to grow on you.  

Of course, a deep part of him enjoyed this chase but a part of him wanted to finally lay claim to your heart. 

His episode with Rooster the day before hadn't helped to ease such tensions and the confrontation only soured his shared glances with Mustang. Jake understood why the glances had soured, but frankly, he didn’t know why he did it.  Maybe it had to do with being jealous of the sweet attention you gave Rooster and that he’d never had to put this much effort into being with a woman. 

That early evening when Rooster opened his front door, he didn’t see Hangman standing before him. A completely different person must have been standing at his door with matching green eyes and tanned skin, wearing a look of remorse that he would never associate with Hangman. Rooster initially wanted to slam the door in his face and go back to bed, but the way Jake’s eyes held something so foreign to his character tugged at his brain to hear him out.

Bradley wasn’t blind, he saw the way Jake looked at you when you weren’t looking and even when you were with him and Natasha. He saw the subtle differences in his demeanor when you were around and how you affected him, making him more tolerable without even realizing it.

He silently realized that what stood before him was your unintentional doing, as Jake stood there and owned up to what had been said. 

Bradshaw accepted his apology, closing the door as Jake left. He shook his head, quietly laughing to himself that someone who had only known Jake for 3 weeks was the only person he knew who had made Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin genuinely apologize. He couldn’t wait to tell Phoenix.

—

Maverick had told them to meet on the beach behind the Hard Deck at 9 am sharp for dogfight football.

Tensions were high. No one had successfully completed the mission training parameters, and the set date was a mere week away.

As the game started, you were a bit hesitant to show your competitive side. Maybe it was because you liked seeing people underestimate you and proving them wrong at the 'perfect moment'. You spent your whole life doing that, so it was only natural you took joy in it. Your competitive spirit was something akin to a secret weapon; to be used with full force to deal lethal damage.

Once you let it out around the whole group, it wasn't going back into hiding anytime soon. Rooster and Phoenix were well aware as they knew you from previous stations, and Bob had heard stories, but the rest were left with only recollections. Encouragements from Phoenix got you to bring it out in small doses and cheers from your teammates let it flow in full force. And maybe also the prospect of giving Hangman a run for his money contributed its fair share.

Under the scorching San Diego sun, Jake “Hangman” Seresin truly understood your callsign. Mustang. It encapsulated who you were to the core into an eight-letter word that made some none the wiser, himself included.

He felt something foreign bloom deep in his soul at the realization. Your presence invaded his senses and struck a chord deep inside him. You looked beautiful, free, wild, and completely forged by the land you occupied: The Navy. Your eyes were sharp, full of excitement, adrenaline, and pure competitive determination. Hair that was coming loose from your ponytail, revealing bangs that framed your face beautifully. Skin gleaming in the San Diego sun, chest heaving from exertion, sweat misting your collarbones, cleavage, and gliding down your stomach and thighs. 

A complete 180° from your shy, flustered demeanor the moment you had met eyes. 

If someone didn't know you worked with wild horses as a teenager, they wouldn't believe you did. You were a force to be reckoned with and he found himself more addicted to that realization by the second. A navy blue sports bra framed your chest tastefully. He tried not to divert his attention from the game to your beautiful breasts for too long. He needed to prevent drawing suspicion from his ever-observant teammates and developing a precarious situation in his lower half that only the frigid San Diego waters could cure. His Ray-Bans helped to hide where his gaze landed on the opposing team, but it wasn't foolproof.

The shrill sound of a whistle broke him away from his thoughts. Commands and playful taunts were being thrown back and forth. Payback passed the football to Harvard who made his way down the makeshift field of Maverick's exercise. Hangman ran the opposite side of him to provide an opening in case Phoenix or Rooster shut him down. Harvard got cornered and passed the football to him. It felt like slow motion, he felt the football graze his fingertips but was snatched away by a smaller frame before he could fully grasp it. He heard the distinct whoops and cheers of Rooster and Phoenix as you made your way down the beach to score a touchdown. You were unstoppable. No one could touch you. You were like a wild stallion swallowing the land beneath you, feet thundering in the wet sand, hair blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. It was unfair for someone to look as beautiful and free as you did at the moment. You made it to the end zone with a sliding stop and did a shoulder shimmy with your tongue stuck out with a full-blown smile. If he hadn’t developed a hard-on before, he was starting to now. You confidently made your way back to your team, met with cheers and high fives. He was frozen in the sand near the opposite end zone. From the moment you stole the ball to your full-blown smile; he was still, staring at her. He knew he could have chased after you and tackled you but didn't. He would get shit for it. 

"Bagman, you getting soft?", Harvard teased him.

"In your dreams", Hangman bit back, tinged with his Texan drawl. His defensiveness gave him away but Harvard didn't dare push him. Hangman had a reputation to keep up. Of being untouchable, the best of the best, and, most importantly, that he didn't need anyone to help him get the job done. He left Harvard and confidently strutted back to his position in the lineup at the start of the next round. His thoughts were tinged with a mild sense of worry; if Harvard noticed his state then the others may have as well. This was the last round. His team was down by 1 point. He needed to get his head together.

He watched you line up behind Phoenix. "You ready Mustang?", Phoenix called.

"You know it, Phe"

"You're not gonna get through us so easily this time, Mustang", Hangman taunted.

"Don't worry Ken-doll, I'm not too worried about you. If it's anything like how you've been playing lately, I should be fine ", shooting him a wink.

Your remark was met with “oohs”, sizzling noises, and Rooster asking if he was gonna take that.

Hangman's jaw tensed and his face wore a smirk, "Whatever Mustang, put your money where your mouth is, and let's get this round started" he shot back. He mentally kicked himself for not coming back with a better comeback, but he wasn't used to seeing this side of her.

Hondo blew the whistle and with expert precision, the ball was passed into your awaiting hands. Pushing yourself against the receding sand into a sprint, your bright eyes watching for an open teammate. You were about to pass to Halo when you felt a pair of large, strong hands grasp your waist and tackle you to the beach. You fell down with a groan and weight on top of you. The face of your tackler obscured by the sun, you squinted your eyes. You were met with a pair of green eyes and a soft, muscular body on top of her. Hangman. Your cheeks and neck started to heat up and prayed he wouldn't notice and be disguised by the heat. You still had the football in your grasp so it didn't count as a turnover. You could still win the game. Why hadn't he done anything? He could have easily grabbed the ball and run with it; instead, he just stared at you. Anyone would admit, he was easy on the eyes: strong jaw, sun-kissed skin, sun-bleached sandy blond hair, washboard abs, and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen. It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about him in the depths of the night alone in your room on base. You felt the initial feelings of nerves you experienced start to develop but quickly extinguished it. You let yourself admire him in his state of undress for a moment, but you had a game to win. You weren't going to let some Texan stud who hit on you ruin this for you, you were raised better than that. Besides, you hadn't found yourself being this competitive in a while and were enjoying the rush it gave you.

Instinctively, you swiveled your hips and turned Hangman on his back. He looked breathless, eyes darkening under the shadow of you, as he let out an audible shaky breath. You quickly rose up off his abdomen and started sprinting, football held tightly to your chest. Hangman was still in the sand scrambling to get up and hide his developing problem, by the time you were close to the end zone with Fanboy and Harvard hot on your tail. You held them off and made the winning score. Your face was marked by the same victorious smile Hangman couldn't get enough of as cheers and whoops left your soft lips. You were met with high fives and let out a yelp as you were lifted onto rooster’s shoulders as your teammates chanted your name, all while Hangman was met with hushed chuckles from those who saw Mustang's hip swivel move and a "what the fuck was that Hang?" Great. 

What was wrong with him? He'd never let someone get in his head, much less twice in a period of 5 minutes. 

As the effect of the victory died down, his teammates, including Mustang, headed into the hard deck for refreshments, he overlooked Phoenix and Rooster talking to each other in hushed whispers and sneaking glances at him every few minutes with mischievous smirks on their faces.

"Bagman, you seemed off your game today. The fact that you're not the best at everything getting to you?" Phoenix taunted as she made her way over and crossed her arms across her chest.

Hangman flipped her off and rolled his eyes, "the damn sun was in my eyes"

"Oh, was the sun in your eyes when you were on top of Mustang? Or when you were eye fucking her during the lineup, where the sun was behind you?"

She stated with an amused expression and widening smirk, having unexpectedly exposed him to anyone close enough to hear their conversation. Rooster joined the two, hearing the end of the interaction, "she's got you there Bagman", wearing a smirk and amused gleam in his eyes.

Hangman composed himself, "I wasn't eye fucking her, I was merely...inspectin' the competition,” shrugging, clearing his throat.

Phoenix and Rooster let out snorts and amused chuckles.

"That's such bullshit man and you know it, anyone with eyes could see what you were doing".

“It’s true”, Coyote added as he passed by with a knowing look in his eyes, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Ya know what? Fuck you guys, I don't have to explain myself to y'all", agitated, Hangman bit back before grabbing his stuff and storming away to the Hard Deck.

He could hear their chuckles and “damn, he has it bad. Wait till he sees her play pool" comments but didn't dare turn around. He tried his damnedest to keep up his facade of complete confidence and indifference towards you, swaggering into the Hard Deck.

He was met with a wave of refreshing AC and an empty bar. Not surprising since it was well before happy hour, but odd since he didn't spot any of his teammates that migrated in. He called out for Penny; no answer. His teammates didn't respond either. He was about to leave when he heard a back door creak. You came out, occupied by your phone, sporting a low-cut rodeo t-shirt and blue jean shorts. You looked around for Halo that promised to wait for you but were only met by Hangman's appreciative gaze. You were taken aback but recovered with a smile and small wave. He returned the favor. 

"Do you know where the others went? I was supposed to catch a ride with Halo back to base".

"You know I didn't see anybody come in. I can give you a ride home if that's what you need sweetheart," giving you the same panty-dropper grin that ensnared you the moment you’d met. This had only been the second time in 2 weeks he could get some real alone time with you, and he wasn't going to waste a second.

You blushed at his endearment, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Jake...."

He loved it when you called him Jake. It was a first; he wanted more of it.

"Anytime darling, I'd always be eager to satisfy your needs," he said with a wink, "but first, I wanna experience that pool game of yours," He said turning towards the pool table area and sporting a wolfish grin. 

You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle on the Hard Deck floor, watching his toned arms flex as he took down two pool sticks.

He turned back to you, basking in the effect he still had on you. You had serious game and he wanted to pull that out of you, just for his eyes to see this time.

"Don't get shy on me now, sweets, you had some pretty serious game out there today" he said while leaning on the pool table, attention occupied with polishing both pool sticks with chalk.

You spent an embarrassing amount of time admiring his golden, nimble, strong fingers working the chalk cube over the thin tip. He could have broken it off if he wanted to. You wanted him to use his fingers in more fulfilling ways.

He met your glazed-over eyes and gave the same panty-dropper smile he always had at the realization of where your attention was focused. It was the same one he gave you the night you met him and across the room during training debriefs. Rooster and Phoenix observed these moments and were able to put two and two together. You were teased incessantly, but also warned of his whorish ways by the pair during their hangouts in the dorm you shared with Phoenix.  

You quickly diverted your attention back to him and made your way to the pool table, reaching out to grasp the pool stick, grazing your fingers against his in the process. You met his playful, mirth-filled eyes and shifted your focus to racking up the pool balls. You knew you wouldn't be able to handle watching his dexterous fingers work anymore and needed a small outlet for your pent-up nervous energy and simmering sexual frustration. 

Your bent frame over the pool table gave Jake the perfect view of your jean shorts riding up and revealing the tasteful curve of your ass. You heard him let out a low hitch in his breath, smirking to yourself. You were starting to gain back your composure, turning the heat up on the brewing competitiveness inside yourself. You were good at pool, winning some tournaments around your hometown. You even beat Coyote, Payback, and Phoenix once. Your dad and older brother taught you the game, as well as to never let emotions get in the way of winning, but that was proving difficult to follow. 

He saw a distinguishable shift in your demeanor as you asked if he wanted to go first.

"Ladies first", admiring your reignited confidence.

You lined up the starting shot, feeling his watchful eyes on you. With a resounding clang, the balls were scattered. 3 solids into 3 pockets at the opposite end. You rose to your full posture with a small smile.

"Your turn Bagman".

Jake was pretty sure he fell in love at that moment. There you were; as clear a difference as Jekyll from Hyde.

He approached where you were at the table, " that's Hangman or Jake to you, princess". His tone was low, hearing your breath hitch at the new endearment, making eye contact with you as he shot 2 stripes in. Smirking, he rose up and lined up his next shot, proud of each little hitched breath or blush he pulled from you.  He made a bolded and underlined mental note to call you “princess” in these moments more often. 

You were settled right across from him, directly in his line of sight. You leaned down giving him a tasteful glimpse of your cleavage as you watched his strong arms carry out his concentration. 

His olive green eyes met yours, hiding lust in their depths as they trailed down to your chest, a black lacy trim peaking through. 

"Ya know maybe your right, I should find something else to call you. Especially since ‘Bagman’ would be more fitting if you actually helped your team win today, maybe with bagging a point or even a touchdown." You said with a playful gleam in your eye.

Your statement and teasing met his senses the moment he pushed the rod forward. His trajectory off, failing to pocket a stripped ball.

He rose up, jaw tense, and met with a smirk. You were playing with him, taunting him like a wild stallion with a green ranch hand. 

"Yeah well, sweets, I was a little distracted, so hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me, the sun being in my eyes and all."

"Mhm, definitely the sun's fault. Was it the sun's fault when you were on top of me?", you said as you lined up your shot. 1 solid into a pocket, 4 more left.

You leaned against your pool stick, holding back a laugh at his speechless face. Hangman speechless? That was a sight.

"Well, darling... you see...", he tried to muster the words, much to your amusement. Clearly, you were keen on observing him. 

"It's ok, you could say the sun was in my eyes too", you interrupted coquettishly as you raked your eyes up his frame, admiring his physique in his tight-fitting athletic shirt.

" I don't mind being admired by beautiful women, especially women who can go toe to toe with me", he said smirking, trying to regain some semblance of control as he watched you line up and sink your 3rd hit of the afternoon.

Heat rose to your cheeks, remembering his forwardness the first night they met and his face when you swiveled your hips to get on top of him. You only had 3 balls left.

“It seems like you just have a thing for women who can beat you. You ever think that you just might have a competency kink?” you asked amusedly, eyes still purposely preoccupied with your shot. 

He smirked, he just fucking might, admiring the way your muscular back arched to line up your shot, your eyes sharp, and full of determination. 

“Ya know I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart, that little move you did back there was something else... In fact, everything about you since we met has been something else," he said moving to your side of the pool table. He invaded your personal space in the best way, leaning next to you against the polished wood of the worn pool table.

"It got me thinking about what other kinds of riding you might enjoy", his hushed drawl dripping like honey into your ear. It didn't make your aim any cleaner and you missed your 4th shot of the evening, sending him a scowl to disguise your less-than-pure thoughts. 

God, you would let him do horrible things to your body in front of your conservative Christian parents if he asked.

"What? don't like it when someone plays dirty princess?" He said with eyebrows raised in a patronizing tone that made you shiver and clench your thighs to relieve the bubbling heat that settled in your abdomen. You needed to compose yourself if you were going to win this, but your resolve was dwindling by the second.

"Well, sweetheart, it seems like you don't mind either," you said in a last-ditch effort to regain the upper hand, running your pointer finger along his defined pectorals. 

He let out a hitched breath he didn't know he was holding. You were going to be the death of him. One second he was in control and the next he was below you, right where you wanted him. You were wild in that sense and he loved this back-and-forth chase for dominance. At this moment, he would let you do whatever you wanted to him; he could definitely get used to it. 

You looked at him through your lashes innocently with mischievous eyes and a playful smile, your hand retracted and now fully leaning with your arms crossed across your chest, further accentuating your tits to his wanton gaze. 

You liked seeing him all hot and bothered, he clearly wasn’t used to it. 

He leaned down to your ear, his Texan drawl low and gravelly with arousal, "you're playing a very dangerous game, darlin'."

"You seem to have forgotten that I'm good at playing games…and winning them," you said with a tight-lipped smile, winking at him, turning away to go to the other side, "it's your turn by the way.”

God, he wanted to do filthy things to you on top of the pool table. But he wanted you to crack first, give you the final push towards passion. 

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. Lining up his shot, feeling the weight of your lustful gaze, his eyes met yours. Eyes filled with mirth as lust bubbled below the surface, a small cat-got-the-cream smirk adorning your face. 

The last thread of his resolve snapped.

Rising to his full height from the table, he placed the pool stick on the table. He gradually invaded your personal space, caging you between his hard chest and the wooden frame of the table nudging into your lower back, with his weight supported by strong, toned arms on each side of you. Their faces a mere few inches away from each other, his hand reaching up to caress your soft cheek. The feeling of his rough hands on your skin made you shiver, meeting his intense gaze. He waited for any hesitation or unease to show under your eyes but found none. 

His hand cradled the back of your neck and cheek as he claimed your lips with his, stealing any air from your lungs. You let out a small moan at the feel of his soft lips. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt in your fist unconsciously as the other met the short hair at the back of his neck, running over the clipped hair there. Smirking into the kiss, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, bringing his opposite hand up to hold your other cheek. After a few moments, they pulled apart gasping for air, his hands still encompassing your face, as he leaned his forehead against yours, letting his eyes softly close. An act of softness and intimacy you wouldn’t have expected from him. 

 "I really hope that was alright because I don't think I can recover if it wasn't", he spoke breathlessly.

"It was more than ok, trust me", reassuring him, toying with the chain of his dog tags and feeling the material of his shirt. 

You slid your hands along the chain, feeling the pebbled texture run between your fingers as they traced towards the small metal engraved tags that rested on his warm chest. Once your fingers reached the small pieces of metal, you yanked him back to your lips by the chain. He smiled into the kiss as his hands moved from your face down to your hips, grabbing a handful of your ass. He grabbed the backs of your thighs to wrap around his waist, supporting you on the edge of the table. Your hands moved behind his neck to bring him impossibly closer, continuing to run your hands over the back of his head, savoring the texture of the short hair at the base of his neck.

His large hands grasped your hips, starting to slide under your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

"Is this what you want ?" He asked making his way down your neck, kissing and sucking at the sweet spot at the base of your neck that made you mewl and weave your hands into his hair, leaving a dark blue mark you’d have to worry about later. 

  You nodded eagerly. 

 "I need you to use your words, sweetheart," he said trailing soft kisses up the column of your neck, grazing his teeth on your pulse, and pausing to meet your glazed-over eyes and plush lips. Your fingers still intertwined in the short hair at the base of his neck.

  "I need you so bad, Jake", you mewled. 

He let out a shaky breath at the use of his name and the feeling of you tugging at his roots, quickly and passionately resuming his ministrations.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'll take good care of you...." He said between kisses, trailing them down your flushed neck and the tops of your breasts, hands coming up to play with the lace of your bra.

  “But…”

Your eyes shot open, worry plaguing your eyes like ink in water. 

"As much as I want to absolutely ruin you on this pool table, it wouldn’t be right to damage Penny's only pool table," he gave you a reassuring smile, “and, I don’t know about you, but I want you all to myself for our first time and not worry about anyone catching us.”

You’re core throbbed, a low noise escaping the back of your throat, your chest heaving. First time? Anyone catching us? 

His hands gave your ass a squeeze as his eyes widened a bit at the realization, a sly smile growing on his face, taking in the treasure before him. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, “I want to take you out, romance you, meet that pretty mare you got back home, stargaze in the field outside my parents' ranch… “ he smiled into kiss placed behind your ear, “and you seem really into the idea of getting caught,” he licked from the base of your throat to your ear, you shuddered, tugging on his hair, “and I would never be opposed to fulfilling my girl’s needs, no matter the time…Or place”, he said nibbling on your earlobe, smirking into your flushed skin at your breathless whimpers. 

My girl. His endearment and actions made you blush and try to hide a bashful smile by burying your face into his shoulder. No one you could remember had this effect on you, and it scared you just as much as it made you dizzy. 

Jake kissed your temple and looked at you with a hopeful, longing gleam in his eye, a bright genuine smile, his adorable dimples showing through.

Up till now, you assumed this would be a one-time hookup and after two more weeks, you’d never see each other again which disappointed you more than you would care to admit. After all, that was how Hangman seemed to handle all his one-night stands, as you’d heard through the grapevine. But he wanted to take you out? Meet Sweet Girl, your pride and joy back home? See where you called home? Take you to his home? And then he was back to doing sinful things to your body? 

“I would love that,” you said smiling and breathless. 

He beamed at you, showing his pearly whites, and brought his lips to yours again. 

“Fuck, your lips are like candy,” he moaned against your lips. 

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, “Jake, please...”, you mewled with a pout. Your face was flushed, your eyes glassy, and your lips were kiss swollen. You looked perfect; all needy and ready for him.  

A smug grin spread across his face, you were so desperate. It only inflated his ego more.

“Please what? I’m having trouble understanding you”, his smug eyes contrasting his furrowed eyebrows and faux confused expression.

You huffed, tensing your jaw, and rolling your eyes, “Jake-”

“Come on, let me hear it, princess,” he laid kisses along your neck. 

Rolling your eyes, huffing in annoyance, your resolve eroding by each kiss laid to your pulse, “please fuck me, Jake.”

“Atta girl, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smirked, “I know you’re desperate sweetheart, but your gonna have to wait till we go somewhere else before I can fuck you properly” He chuckled at the low whine that escaped your throat as you pouted. 

You were absolutely adorable. 

He smirked and kissed your pouted lips, still holding your hips against the pool table with his own, thinking about all the surfaces in his shared dorm he wanted to christen with you.

 “Well….”

He looked at you with piqued interest and raised eyebrows, your eyes filled with a sense of shyness and excitement. 

"There's always the pool table on base… and nobody uses that one anyways" you bashfully smirked, trying to hide a full-blown grin. 

He could have sworn he felt the last drop of blood leave his brain and flow to his dick at your words.

"Fuck, I love the way you think". He said lifting you off the table and leading you to the Hard Deck parking lot to his truck; paying no mind to the absence of their teammates' cars in the parking lot. He opened the door for you before running to the driver's side. He started the ignition as you littered kisses on his neck and reached out to caress his inner thigh, reaching for his cock through his jeans.

"Sweetheart, if we're going to do this, I need to be able to drive us," he said, hissing as you found the sweet spot behind his ear, sucking, biting, and soothing with your tongue, leaving a hickey in its wake. His hands tensed on the gear shift and steering wheel as he felt your hand graze his abdomen and sneak into his jeans, squeezing his bare length. 

"Then what’s stopping you, cowboy." You purred, pausing your assault on his neck and meeting his lust-glazed eyes with a hushed, breathless tone. 

“You need to behave if we’re gonna do this, Sweets”, he groaned feeling your warm hand on his length.

“Or what?”, you challenged. 

Jake grabbed the back of your head, fingers tangling firmly in your hair to bring you mere inches close to his face, “Well, sweetheart… I won’t let you cum and I really don’t think you want our first night together to end like that. It would be such a waste after all your hard work.” His lust-blown eyes were awaiting a challenge, but they were only met with a hitched breath and a low noise from the back of your throat. 

He slammed his lips to yours, slamming on the gas to break multiple traffic laws to get back to base, feeling your hot gaze on him the entire way home. 

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Taglist: @potato-girl99981​

#tgm #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #glen powell #hangman smut #hangman x reader #hangman fic #mustang

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2022: Day 28

(MinChan Birthday Month Special)

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Pairing: Chan x Minho x Female Reader

Kink: Threesome

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Soft!Dom Chan, Soft!Dom Minho, Sub!Fem reader, fingering (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, multiple orgasms, creampie, praise, facefucking

Please let me know if I missed anything

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Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Dusty Rose, and White <3

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If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

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Enjoy :)

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The early hours of the night begin to set in as you quickly scramble to do any last-minute straightening up before two of your best friends, Chan and Minho come over for your traditional movie night.

Movie nights have been a tradition amongst you three for a few years now, occurring every other weekend no matter what. Even if one of you couldn't be there in person, you still found a way to make it work. It was the one constant in your life that you cherished deeply, something to look forward to in your hectic and unpredictable life.

A signature knock on your front door sounds through the space of your living room. You quickly scan the room, making sure everything is clean before you bolt to the front door, quickly opening it.

"Hi!" You exclaim, slightly out of breath.

There they stood, black loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants, both of them carrying bags of snacks they just recently bought with slight smiles tugging at their lips as they stare at you with bright eyes. You blink up at them, taking a quick breath.

"Come in, come in! You two know the drill!" You holler, pulling them inside.

They chuckle in response, kicking their shoes off by the front door before walking further into your apartment.

"Where do you want us to put the snacks?" Chan asks, both of them eyeing you as you close and lock your front door.

"Over on the kitchen table for now. We'll get the snacks squared away after we make our pillow fort!" You cheer, excitement coursing through you at the thought.

They nod in response, smiling at your excitement before heading for the kitchen. You rest back against your front door, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

Your head always seemed to spiral every time you saw them in their natural state. Comfy clothes, hair undone and bare faces, seeing them for all their natural beauty. Of course, you loved when they were dressed up from their schedules, hair styled and makeup decorating their features. There was just something about the former that made your heart swoon.

"Y/N? You ready?" Minho gently asks, tearing you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes dart open, seeing them both standing there with their favorite pillows and blankets that you keep at your apartment in hand, waiting for you to join them.

"Yes! I'm ready!" You reply, moving away from your door and grabbing your favorite pillows and blankets from your linen closet.

The three of you work together to build the self proclaimed comfiest fort of all time. Using chairs to sling blankets over and propping pillows up in a large circle that the three of you would be lying in later. After a short while, you all stand back with triumphant smiles, admiring the result of your teamwork.

"I think this is the best fort yet!" You announce, hearing the boys hum in agreement. "Alright, snack time!"

You rummage through the bags they brought, gasping when you see your favorite snack.

"Wouldn't be a proper movie night without our favorites, yea?" Chan asks, mirroring your smile as you quickly hug them both.

"You guys are the best!" You say, grabbing bowls to dump the snacks into.

You all return to your fort, carefully sitting in the pillow circle one by one. You sit in the middle, Chan and Minho sitting on either side of you as you drag your laptop into your lap.

"Min, it's your turn to pick the movie." You inform, peering over at him as you turn your laptop towards him.

He drags your laptop into his lap, scrolling through the platform until he sees something that sparks his interest. You lean forward, quickly fixing some of the blankets and grabbing your snacks that you had set aside as Minho exchanges smirks with Chan.

Considering the amount of time the three of you have spent together over the years, the boys have noticed the effect they have on you. Never making any move to mention it but using the power to their advantage every once in a while. You, however, never seemed to notice the effect you had on them. The way their eyes would rake hungrily along your form whenever you wore something that showed off your curves. The way they would exchange looks between one another when you did something simple that just happened to make their minds wander. The way your big doe eyes looked up at them so innocently when you were speaking.

You simply drove them crazy, and tonight they planned to release some pent-up feelings.

"Ok!" He exclaims, hitting play and setting your laptop back in your lap.

The boys scoot closer to you as you push your laptop further down your legs so you can all see. Bowls of snacks in hand as you all watch the opening of the movie with eyes glued to the screen.

The majority of the movie flies by, all three of you enjoying it as your bowls grow more empty with each passing minute.

You feel Chan's hand rest on one of your thighs under the blankets before Minho's rests on your other. You peer at them both from the corners of your eyes, not wanting to react too much at such a simple touch, but it felt like electricity was surging through your limbs at the contact. You close your eyes for a brief second, composing yourself before you focus back on the movie.

You watch as the two main characters collide in a heated kiss, quickly tugging each other's clothes off as they stumble into a hotel room. You feel your cheeks heat up as you try your best not to shift in your spot. You feel Minho squeeze your thigh and you almost jolt at the feeling, watching as the sex scene unfolds before your eyes.

Minho leans closer to you, his mouth hovering right next to your ear.

"What's wrong, baby? Does this kind of stuff make you flustered?" He whispers against the shell of your ear, watching you shiver in response as his hand trails further up your thigh.

You involuntarily press your thighs together as the ache between them grows with each passing second as moans sound from your laptop. The action doesn't go unnoticed by the boys as you feel Chan inch closer to your ear.

"We could help you, baby. Could make our pretty girl feel good." Chan whispers, listening to your breath hitch as he rubs shapes against the skin of your thigh.

"Please," you whimper out, your voice small and breathy.

"Please what, pretty?" Minho asks, gently drumming his fingers along your thigh.

"Please make me feel good."

Chan closes your laptop, shuffling it out of the fort before he exchanges looks with Minho. They each grab your thigh that their hands have been resting on, pulling them to rest over their own as your head falls to rest back against the pillows. Minho's fingers come to slowly rub at your clit, watching your body jolt at the feeling as a soft moan slips past your lips.

"Our baby girl is so sensitive." Chan breathes out, holding your right thigh in his lap as he watches your hips buck against Minho's fingers.

Minho stops his movements, running his fingers along the hem of your shorts.

"Can we take these off you, baby?" He softly asks.

"Yes," you breathe out, feeling them swiftly pull your shorts off so your bottom half is bare for them.

They both groan at the sight of your bare core, feeling their lengths strain against their sweatpants. Chan's fingers glide down your slit until he reaches your entrance, circling the hole with his middle finger.

"So wet for us, baby." He says, his voice an octave lower than usual.

Chan slowly sinks his middle and ring fingers into your dripping heat, a sigh leaving your lips at the feeling. He slowly pumps his digits, watching as Minho trails his hand to rub at your clit. Your back arches at the feeling of both their hands working to make you feel good, moans falling past your lips as they watch you fall apart on their fingers.

"There you go, cum for us, baby." Minho whispers, holding your left thigh in his lap as he watches you hit your high.

You lay back, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high. You hear shuffling from both sides before you feel Chan's strong arms pull you into his lap. His hard length rests against your back as he pulls your thighs to rest on either side of his own. With a hand flat on your back, he gently pushes you forward, a loud groan tearing from his lips at the sight of your bare core clenching around nothing. He runs his tip along your slit before pushing into you, a loud whimper leaving your lips at the stretch.

"I know, baby, I know. Just relax for me, yea?" He groans out, holding back the urge to fuck into your tight heat.

He bottoms out, pulling your back flush against his chest, his length buried inside you as he holds you in place on his lap. Minho walks in front of you, his hard length in his hand, the head an angry red as precum pools at the tip. He lazily pumps his length, sighs leaving his lips as he watches you look up at him with your big doe eyes. He taps his tip along your lips, watching as you slowly part your lips before he inches his cock into your mouth. You run your tongue along the underside of his length, hearing him groan at the feeling as he hits the back of your throat. He pulls his hips back, shallowly thrusting into your mouth before nodding at Chan.

Chan positions you into all fours, pushing you further down Minho's length before he slowly thrusts into your heat. You moan around Minho's length, sending vibrations through him as he fists your hair, bobbing your head faster on his cock.

"God, this is so much better than I imagined. Minho moans out. "Feels so much better than I imagined."

Chan roughly grips your hips, pounding into you as you helplessly moan around Minho, gagging around his length as he hits the back of your throat repeatedly. You feel Minho's cock twitch in your mouth, and you hallow your cheeks, looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks and glassy eyes. He holds you down against him, cumming down your throat with a loud moan before he pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips.

Moans tear from your throat, your voice hoarse as Chan speeds up his hips, moans and strings of swear words spilling from his lips as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You cum around Chan's length at the same time he spills into your heat, your walls convulsing around him as your vision goes white.

He stays tucked away inside you for a few minutes before he pulls out, Minho taking his place behind you. Minho quickly stuffs his length into your heat, your breath getting caught in your throat at the feeling. Minho's head lolls off to the side as a low moan falls from his lips at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

"We've been thinking about this for so long. Couldn't wait to feel you around us, baby." Chan breathes out.

Minho starts shallowly thrusting into you, a whine tearing from your lips at the overstimulation.

"I know, baby. You're doing so good for us." Minho breathes out, feeling you clench around him at his words. "Does our baby like to be praised?"

You nod in response, watching as Chan steps in front of you. You look up at him with tears welling in your eyes as the pain of overstimulation fades into pleasure.

"Oh, baby." Chan coos, running his thumb across your cheek. "Does it feel good?"

You nod up at him, Minho speeding up his hips as Chan watches your eyes roll back, moans endlessly pouring from your lips.

"Open that pretty little mouth for me, pretty girl." Chan breathes out watching as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue for him.

He runs his tip along your tongue before inching into your mouth, feeling you wrap your lips around him as he grabs a handful of your hair. Minho harshly pulls your hips back to meet his, his thrusts growing stronger as Chan fucks into your mouth.

"There you go, baby. Taking both of us so well." Chan praises, hearing a muffled high-pitched moan tear from your throat around his length.

Chan throws his head back, speeding up his hips as he chases his second high, Minho doing the same as he roughly pounds into your heat. You gag around Chan's length, your jaw aching as he holds your head in place, fucking into your mouth as his length twitches. You swallow around him and hallow your cheeks, feeling him cum down your throat. He pulls out of your mouth watching you gasp for air, moans quickly tearing from your throat as you approach your third high.

"Give us one more, pretty." Minho groans out, his thrusts growing sloppy.

You cum around Minho's length with a scream, your body collapsing forward as Minho holds your hips up, thrusting into you a few more times before he cums inside you.

He slowly pulls out of you, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling before he pulls you back into his embrace, laying you both down. Chan lays on the other side of you, wrapping his arms around your frame as you lay in between them, gasps leaving your lips as you try and even out your breathing.

"Thank you, baby." Chan whispers, tucking some stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Welcome." You softly reply, sleep slowly taking over your form.

They both nuzzle closer to you, their heads spinning at the realization that they just fucked their best friend.

"We didn't finish the movie." You mumble half asleep.

"It's ok, baby." Minho shushes, running a hand soothingly through your hair.

"We had more important things to attend to."

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Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

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*·°Author's Note°·*

This is officially the last day of my 2022 kinktober <//3

Thank you to anyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and just overall supported me during this event. It truly means the world to me.

I hope you all enjoyed this lil MinChan special to end off this event <33

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°·*Taglist*·°

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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·°*Other Tings*°·

©All rights reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Reposting, modification, translation, and plagiarism of any kind is NOT tolerated. Please notify me if you see any work similar to my own.

Released: October 28th, 2022

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Please reblog my works. Share your thoughts if you'd like, even if it's just a simple keyboard smash.

I read every caption, tag, reply, ask, and dm. Feedback is what motivates me to continue to create content <3

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