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octoberautumnbox · 5 months

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Aquamarine

Soloist Lee Chaeyeon & Male Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Categories/tags: smut, shower, glass, camera/picture, standing sex, standing doggy, creampie, fluffy (at least thats the plan)

a/n: birthday piece for the second half of IZ*ONE'S HoneyWaterz! she gets like one fic a year y'all are missing out. and as usual (lol) no proofread no beta im sorry i know its terrible

The water glistens against her skin, shining as it falls down her back. The city lights seem so far below you like you're in the clouds yourself. The smoke doesn't reach up here, nor the hustle and bustle of the metropolis below. It's only you and her.

Click, click, click. Find her through your camera's lens, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. She turns around and smiles a divine smile at you, and you suspect that she's stopped posing a long while ago; now, she's just glad to find you nearby.

She paddles adorably over to the shallow end of the pool and takes a seat. "Thank you for taking me out like this, babe. I love you so much. Everything is perfect."

She wrings her hair carefully and looks up over the moon, enjoying the cool breeze of tropical air on her face and chest. Click.

"Ugh, stop it," she giggles. "I wasn't ready. Delete that one."

You chuckle and place your camera on a dry, flat surface and join her in the pool. The water is warm between your toes, and you accept the welcome by sitting down in it right next to her.

You try to put your arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs it off cutely. "Don't, you idiot," she scolds lovingly, "I'm all wet."

Sulking away playfully, never mind your lightly damp Hawaiian shirt, you respond. "Wow, calling me an idiot just for trying to love you. I knew it, you've just been using me all this time..."

She laughs her signature laugh, painting the skyline of your heart in vibrant tones of aquamarine. She takes your hand and pulls slowly, bringing your arm around her once more.

"You're gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect." Place a hand on her cheek and bring her gaze over to yours. "How'd I end up with someone as breathtaking as you?"

"Shut up, babe..." she chuckles lightly as she places her hand over yours. "You know I fell for you first."

Close your eyes gently as the gravity of your hearts draw your lips together. You find her halfway through the darkness, but of course you did. When has she ever let you down?

The kiss you share is slow, respectful. You ask for permission from each other wordlessly, giving and taking just a tiny bit more from each other's love with every singular peck.

She breaks the kiss gratefully. As you open your eyes you're met with a goddess, ethereal and alluring. And she's all yours.

Without her forehead leaving yours, she whispers to you, "Let's go inside, babe, I'm getting cold."

~~~

Pull her by her waist into the shower enclosure and take her lips again. She strips you of your Hawaiian shirt, now soaked, and tosses it out of the glass cubicle. Her arm wraps around your neck, while her free hand finds the shower handle.

The showerhead comes to life, and warm water falls onto your back. Chaeyeon slips her fingers under your waistband and pulls down, taking away your last bits of clothing and relieving you of the growing pressure in your shorts.

You do the same, pulling off her dripping wet bikini bottom. Without ever breaking the kiss, she kicks them away and takes your hands onto her plump and firm ass. She moans lightly at your touch, music to your ears.

As much as you want to keep them there, you know there's more you have to do first. Break the kiss for just a moment, and see your girlfriend out of breath.

Grabbing the hem of her top, you pull up. She raises both arms to help you out, knowing that this also gives you the best view of your favorite part.

The wet piece of fabric moves up past her chest, and her beautiful tits bounce free from their containment. You keep pulling until the bikini top clears her head and finally her arms, and then you toss them out of the cubicle and shut the door.

She wraps her arms around your neck again. Grip her ass cheeks and pull her towards you, savoring her firm behind while you force your cock between her thighs.

She moans cutely at the sensation of your head right at the entrance of her heat. You kiss her again, torridly this time, and she returns your affections hungrier, more impatient, less quietly than earlier.

She pulls you even closer, pressing her soft breasts onto your chest, and the feeling could not be more heavenly. You know she's doing this on purpose, and so you respond in kind by giving her a smack on her butt cheek, forcing it to jiggle. As she's groaning into your mouth as a reflex, you leave her at a loss for a more heavenly moment.

Chaeyeon finally frees your lips, and the both of you take a deep breath. You can't get enough, though, and bring her over to the glass pane nearest to you.

"You're so fucking hot..." She traces all over your body with her fingertips. "How do you want me, babe?" she asks courteously.

"You have to smile for the camera, sweetheart." Turn her around to face the glass, and wipe away the steam obstructing her view of outside. She spots your camera sat on a table, facing the pair of you, and she blushes and smirks devilishly as she catches wind of your plan.

"Naughty boy... Hurry up and take me." Chaeyeon bends over and gives you a clear view of her ass, and shows off her pink lower lips for your pleasure.

You make her lean on the glass pane with her forearms as you grab her by the hips. Always the gentleman, you don't keep her waiting. Pull her lips apart, hear her groan at the feeling, and, finally, push your hardened cock into her tight pussy.

"Fuck..." Click. The flash goes off in front of her, and she turns redder in her cheeks. "This is so fucking hot, babe..."

"Happy birthday, baby. You're getting a private photo book of tonight as one of your gifts. Smile your prettiest."

You feel her velvet walls clench lovingly around your cock. It isn't a challenge at all though, with her slick lubricating her insides, to pull out nearly all the way, and force yourself back into her core.

Relish the feeling of fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. Take pride in how she powerlessly surrenders herself to your will. With every thrust deep into her pussy, you show her that she'll only ever belong to you.

"Babe, harder... Please fuck me harder." You comply with her request, as you thrust forward you forcefully pull her back. Her ass meets your pelvis at every pump, producing a symphony of slaps and groans.

Click, click, click. The camera makes its presence felt as flashes fill the other side of the bathroom. Push your goddess of a girlfriend harder against the glass, and she lets out a loud "ahhhh" as her nipples and breasts are squished onto the cold surface.

"Right there, babe, keep fucking me just like that..." Her walls only get tighter as your cock splits her apart. The sounds of her pleasure fill the bathroom as you bring her closer and closer to climax.

"I love you... so... fucking much, babe..." you mutter next to her ear. You can tell she's losing control of herself, she answers only in moans of ecstasy at the rough fucking she's receiving.

Hook her leg under your arm, raise it for the camera. Click, click. The view of her pussy being violated by your cock is crystal clear for the camera to capture. Click. Chaeyeon screams in pleasure as you reach new depths in the lewd position she finds herself in. Click. Her face is smushed against the glass with how hard you're pushing her. Click, click, click. Her nipples grow stiffer against the clear pane, spurring her on and on towards her eventual release.

"Sweetheart, you still good?" She can't answer, you know she can't. Just one look and you can tell she's long gone: her head thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, no regard for whatever she might be saying anymore.

Figure she's had enough. Conclude her long day with a bang. Give her a high note to end a perfect celebration. Better yet, make her sing the high note herself.

You grow more ravenous with your hold on her. "You know... One of your gifts... a whole photo book... of just tonight." Click. You thrust into her sex more roughly, chasing your high as you force her to reach hers. She can't defy you, and you know she won't. She's yours.

Her climax comes to her like an earth-splitting bolt of lightning. All at once, a guttural scream rips through her throat, click, streaks of her cum spray onto the glass she's pressed against, click, she stumbles as her legs give out underneath her, click, click, and her walls grip you in a desperate attempt to prolong her unholy pleasure as much as she can, click.

"I'm cumming, baby... Happy birthday--!!!" With a deep groan you shoot your cum into her womb, making sure every spurt stays in and takes. Her walls apply a heavenly amount of pressure on your cock, milking you for more, and you give her exactly what she wants. With every spurt of your hot cum into her abused snatch Chaeyeon screams louder yet, click, begging in gibberish for something she herself doesn't even know anymore.

You realize she's full up when your cum overflows from her pussy and down her thigh. She's taking heavy breaths now, and your wits are slipping away from you.

~~~

You find yourself sat on the cold tiled floor of the shower. Warm water still falls from the showerhead and onto the pair of you. Chaeyeon is taking her sweet time filling her lungs with air and steadying her breathing. Her head's leaned onto your shoulder, so you push her hair aside to give her a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart. You might not have heard me earlier, but happy birthday."

She can only respond in deep breaths and scratchy hums. She brings her lips back over to yours, last kiss before getting dressed for bed. And you know that meant "I love you too."

a/n: yknow i should just stop planning fics at this point lmao. anyways, happy birthday our feather chaeyeon!!!

#lee chaeyeon smut #chaeyeon smut #girl group smut #izone smut #kpop smut

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thatlovinfeelin · 9 months

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Swan Song | Jake Hangman Seresin |

Carole Bradshaw was pregnant when Goose died. Newly pregnant, too early to even know. The pregnancy was hard, not just emotionally but physically. The birth was even harder, but in the end Carole was left with a beautiful baby girl. She had Goose’s eyes from the start, big and brown, just like her big brother Bradley. Her smile was contagious from the very beginning and soon she was growing into a beautiful young woman.

Y/N was very close with her big brother Bradley. They were nearly inseparable. So when Bradley joined the Navy, it took everything to convince Y/N that she shouldn’t follow in his footsteps. She went to college nearby, and got her degree slowly but surely. And once it was all said and done, and Bradley had a permanent position at Miramar, Y/N joined him there.

“C’mon! Just take me for one drink!” You begged your older brother, “You never let me meet any of your friends! Even Penny said you should let me come!”

“Penny needs to mind her own business,” Bradley grumbled, throwing on one of your dad’s old Hawaiian shirts.

“No, Penny definitely needs to butt in more,” You argued, “She wants me to actually make friends here. Outside of the studio!”

“You’re the one who decided to move here,” Bradley pointed out.

“And you’re the one who keeps me virtually locked up here!”

“It’s my job to protect you. None of the people I work with are worth knowing, anyway, aside from Phoenix maybe.”

“Great, so introduce me to Phoenix!” You begged.

“One drink,” He held up one finger, eyebrows pinched tight. He wasn’t joking. You were his baby sister, it was his job to look after you and protect you from everyone and everything. Including everyone he worked with.

He wasn’t even sure if the Daggers knew he had a little sister. Phoenix and Bob knew, because they were Phoenix and Bob. But the others had no idea, and Bradley planned on keeping it that way if he could help it. He wanted you to stay as far away from military men as you possibly could

“Two,” You bargained.

“Fine, then you’re coming home.”

“You have to play me one song too,” You said firmly, “One round of Great Balls and I’ll be happy.”

“You have yourself a deal,” He sighed, “Now c’mon. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You threw your arms up in victory and ran to go change quickly out of your leotard. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot of the famous Hard Deck. Another five minutes after that and you had a cocktail in your hands as you watched Brad mingle with various people in uniform. He hated wearing his uniform to the Hard Deck, he always came home to change first.

“Penny, my dear, can I get another one?” A blonde asked, “Thanks darlin!”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip. Once the blonde had his new bottle of beer he turned his attention to you, which you were hoping to avoid. You had watched him watching just about every girl in this bar. He seemed to know everyone, and know all of the girls. It made you want to be sick.

“Now who might you be, sweetheart?”

You eyed Penny, who not so casually eyed the bell by the corner of the bar top. You wanted to laugh knowing she’d ring this guy in an instant for you. All you had to do was say the word.

“Not your type,” You replied, taking another sip, “Try the leggy blonde at the other end. She’s drooling over all of you patches.”

“I don’t think I want a tag chaser,” He replied, southern draw on full display, “What’s your name?”

You huffed before setting your cocktail down on the bar in front of you and turning slightly to face the man, “They call me Swan.”

“You a pilot?” He questioned, eyebrows raised.

“No, just related to one. My uncles gave me my own callsign when I was a kid,” you weren’t sure why you were even telling him any of this. You really wanted to tell him to fuck off back to whatever backwoods hovel he came from.

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you want to see a little more of him. His green eyes were intoxicating, and you were certain he used that to his advantage with all of the ladies. You didn’t want to be another notch on his bedpost.

Yet, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as he brought the bottle to his lips. You did a quick survey of the bar to see if Brad was anywhere around, but he was engrossed in a game of pool with several other uniforms. Maybe you could have a bit of fun tonight. Just for this one time.

“What do they call you?” You asked, leaning in a little further.

“Hangman.”

Fuck. You knew that name. He worked directly with Bradley, and obviously he had no idea who you were, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you. If he knew he would probably be fending off the guy at the other end of the bar who wouldn’t stop eyeing you.

“Well, Hangman,” You said leaning in a little closer, “Why don’t you buy me another drink?”

He smiled slowly and waved over one of the other bar tenders, Grace you think her name was, and then there was another drink in your hand.

“So, what brings you here? Never seen you before,” Hangman asks over the music.

“My brother and I live nearby, finally convinced him to bring me along with him tonight,” You replied simply.

“Do you need your brother’s permission?” He playfully questioned.

“I think you’ll find, Hangman, that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You drank the rest of your cocktail and slid off of the barstool, “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and find out.”

And that was the first time you fucked Jake Hangman Seresin. In the bathroom of the Hard Deck, while your brother and all of his friends were just feet away. Brad never found out though. Instead he marched his way over to the piano and started playing Great Balls the second you reappeared from the bathroom. You laughed and skipped over, sliding onto the bench next to him.

Jake was a little confused, watching you cozy up to Bradley when he’d been balls deep inside of you just minutes before. He was seething when you leaned over and kissed Rooster’s cheek. He didn’t think you were one to be fast and loose with everyone. But maybe he was wrong. After all, he didn’t even know your real name.

“Who’s that with Rooster?” He asked Phoenix through gritted teeth.

“Uh, I think that’s his little sister,” She replied, “Y/N, but everyone calls her Swan.”

Fuck. Jake Hangman Seresin was fucked. Because he’d just fucked Bradshaw’s baby sister. The baby sister that he only mentioned in passing because he had a picture of her in his locker and in his plane. Jake joked one day that she had to be a hell of a girl and Rooster let it slip, as if he didn’t even realize he’d said it. Maybe he didn’t. But Jake felt like he was going to be sick.

Did you know who he was?

When the music stopped Rooster came over to the Dagger group, you following closely behind him. You had a soft smile on your face as Bradley went around the group and introduced you. But when he got to Hangman you smile turned almost innocent, so much so it made Jake hard again just looking at you. You were smiling like you didn’t have his dick in your mouth, or so deep in your pussy that you kept saying you could feel him in your stomach.

“Hangman, this is my baby sister,” Bradley grumbled, “Y/N, this is Jake. But we all call him Hangman.”

You smiled again and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Swan.”

You were both very much fucked. Because all either one of you wanted to do was grab the other and continue what you started in the bathroom. All you wanted to do was kiss him silly in front of everyone, and then drag him to his no doubt, big pickup truck, and fuck him in it. Truth be told, that’s all Jake wanted to do too.

“Nice to meet you, Swan.”

#jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #Jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine

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furrysmp · 6 months

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decided to go sunbringer designs for once. I have so many words oh my god

so. uh,

I am so normal about sunbringer joel smallishbeans so normal I swear. he's planning to throw the o from his name at scott btw.

... he and scar are related but I'm not explaining further until the actual fic about it comes out because there's so much plot significance in the smallishbeans.

... grian. has a book. that he borrowed from the Library. it's very relevant I swear the concept of the library is a plot point.

Also grians eyes are technically green! With a bit of purple and just. a layer of Dark over them to make them less neon green. its not in his genetics to have neon eyes. unlike scar and I swear their eye colors are relevant but like in a weird queerplatonic scarian dl based bit in the grian chapter of the fic

Mumbo is a long cat and being held by me specifically those hands are how I draw my mc skin. I wanted to draw him as this meme since 2021 but he's very hard for me to draw so I took the one time I'll ever draw him and did this.

Jimmy is. a creature. that has bird features but also cod features bc again half of the plot of sunbringer is based on empires 1. Also the bird he's holding is singing. And joel is stealing the song bc he has music type magic.

Scott! Is the one guy I can talk about! Because he already appeared in the fic. He's part ender dragon and like. a child of stars? I have a lot of times I drew him before I think but idk how much of it I uploaded before so yeah. Please ask me about sunbringer scott smajor he's one of the only ones I can talk about and he has so much lore going for him he's so dear to me

impulse is. technically part ender dragon too? the specifics will be explained in his chapter of yhiwu (alongside. a lot of magic lore. like a lot. I have half that speech written already it's basically looking the empires fic in the eyes and going "fight me uwu")

And because impulse is aligned to shadows skizz gets to be some form of light dragon descendant? Like light isn't directly an element in the magic of this universe but it does have an equivalent in the element of Life, which connects to truth and love, whereas shadows and theatrics (and storytelling in general) is always aligned to whatever element is considered dark; in this magic system, being Void.

Tango is looking up at mumbo. thats all. I don't have a lot of notes because my tango is just a little guy.

(Etho is checking smth on his smartwatch and also doing his best to ignore bdubs rn bc bdubs is in his villain arc/hj)

... ngl the only note I have on the bdubs design is that it's accidentally inspired by my human design for the main character in the show I'm writing. Bracelets and sparkly eyes and a t-shirt and. Crimes.

also not much on the cleo design she was just fun to draw but the implications of her existence are spoilers and also not really visually indicative bc idk what a "zombie hybrid" would look like so she just looks. funky. her background is all stitched together btw I finally had a use for the dashed lines brush :D

martyn and ren are. BIG spoilers. But only to like chapter 5 of the current fic. I will say I highly enjoy their existence tho. Also my ren designs always have hawaiian patterned shirts its a personality trait he seems to possess. Also his glasses are like. a hologram? bc his ears are Dog so he cant have normal glasses w like. the things that go behind ur ears.

lizzie is. also very important. she gets the two animals thing like jimmy bc axolotl and cat were her empires animals. also her buns are heart shaped I saw some fanart of that and its really cute so I also have that. and she's also looking at the long mumbo! very confused.

bigb. scares me. like yeah secret life really be mans villain arc. I tried to reflect that by actually straight up mirroring his eyes and having him be. the only guy looking straight at u. he can see u. u can run but u cant hide. also he gets cookies. also also drawing facial hair is hard he's the only time I ever managed to make facial hair look. normal. ever. wont happen again.

gem is being adorable and also definitely a deer hybrid dont mind the magic or stuff its fine (her chapter is. third in the roster. I literally just need to finish the impulse chapter to convince myself that its ok to upload her immediately after ch2).

and pearl! who we know bc she gets first chapter of the fic and thats already out. her eyes are a bit like moons btw. also she's doing magic back at gem which is cute I think. idk.

also half of them have fancy hair shines. like joel having beans that get progressively smaller. or pearl having moons. :D

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acewritesfics · 5 months

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Marry Me | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,118

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

“I don’t think he’ll propose anytime soon,” Y/N tells Natasha as they exit The Hard Deck. The fighter pilot, better known by her callsign Phoenix, offered to give her a ride home once she finished the paperwork Penny had asked her to help with. Y/N’s car was in the garage getting fixed. Jake made a subtle remark about her, and Bradley not being married yet, and now she is second-guessing the marriage talks she’s had with her boyfriend. “We’ve been together for five years. I’m sure if he wanted to be married, he would have asked by now.”

“Have you two talked about tying the knot?” Natasha inquires, texting on her phone as they walk to her car.

“We’ve talked about it before, but that was a year ago. I assumed he was going to ask me then,” she tells her best friend. “I’m beginning to question whether he actually wants to get married.”

“Maybe you two should talk about it again,” Natasha advises.

“And what if he doesn’t want to?” Her stomach drops at the thought.

“Don’t think that.” Natasha says as they get into the car and start the drive to the house Y/N has shared with Bradley for the last three years. “Rooster loves you more than anything else in the world. Give him some time or talk with him again.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m not sure why I let Jake get inside my head,” She sighs, apologizing.

“Jake has mastered the ability to get inside someone’s head,” the pilot dismisses her apology. “It’s one of his flaws, but we still love him.”

“You still love him,” Y/N teases. Following their top-secret mission with Top Gun, Natasha and Jake began dating. Y/N believed they were meant to be together. Jake required a somebody who could bring him down to a level and confront him when he was behaving like a dick. Natasha was the best person to fill that position for him.

The remainder of the drive to Bradley and Y/N’s house was filled with banter, talks about their relationships, and making plans for a double date the following weekend.

“Would you like to come inside for a little while?” Y/N inquires as Natasha pulls up in front of the little two-bedroom beach house.

Natasha politely declines her invitation, “I need to get back to Hangman.”

As she steps out of the car, she smirks, “You and Jake enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You, too,” Natasha says as Y/N closes the car door.

As Natasha pulls away, Y/N waves good-bye. She walks up to the front door and opens it, finding it unlocked. She is a little puzzled by the dimmed lights and that Bradley is not sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand watching whatever is on tv. Instead, she discovers a trail of rose petals and hears soft music coming from the back deck.

She moves towards the back doors, following the trail of red petals, calling out to her boyfriend, “Bradley?”

“Out here, baby,” she hears him respond.

When she exits through the back door, she is amazed to see candles illuminating the deck, rose petals strewn about, a romantic dinner prepared for two, and Bradley dressed in his finest Hawaiian shirt and a nice pair of jeans.

“Hi, beautiful,” Bradley greets her as he walks up to her and pulls her into a kiss, drawing her out of her amazement.

“What’s all this?” she wonders as he ends the kiss and leads her over to the little patio table set up with food, candles, flowers, and tableware. Bradley could be romantic on a regular basis; he just wasn’t secretive about it. This time she had no clue about his plans for tonight.

“I wanted to do something nice for my lady,” he says as he pulls out her chair for her. He pushes it back in once she sits down and then circles the table to take a seat. “We haven’t done something like this in a while.”

She can’t help but smile, “We’ve never done anything like this.”

They’ve enjoyed romantic dinners at home before, but nothing to this extent. Bradley has certainly gone all out for tonight, and she is loving every minute of it.

“You know what I mean,” he replies as he pours champagne into two glasses. “I wanted to go all out tonight.”

She smiles and looks lovingly at him, “I love it and I love you.”

“I’m glad, and I love you too,” he responds, leaning over and kissing her.

After dinner, Y/N assists Bradley with cleaning up the dishes despite his attempts to persuade her from doing so. Before putting the dishes in the dishwasher, she rinses them, then steps back outside on the deck. As she puts her hand to her mouth in awe at Bradley getting down on one knee with a stunning white gold and diamond ring nestled inside the ring box in his palm, her heart begins to race, so much love and happiness coursing through her body.

“I, uh… I don’t really know where to begin,” Bradley admits as she walks to stand in front of him, tears welling up in her eyes as her hand falls to her side. “I practiced what I would say so many times this week, and now that I’m actually doing it, I can’t exactly remember what I was going to say,” he adds as he takes her left hand in the hand that’s not holding the ring box and kisses it softly before looking up at her. His dark eyes met hers and he had the same amount of love and happiness as she did, along with a touch of nervousness. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, have children with you, and grow old with you. I want to spend the rest of our lives showing you how much I love, admire and appreciate you. And I know I should have done this a long time ago, but I wanted this moment to be perfect for you because you deserve it. So, will you do me the honor of marrying me and become Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw?“

She nods her head enthusiastically and sobs, unable to speak. As he stands up and gives her a passionate kiss, Bradley removes the ring from the box and places it on her finger.

"I love you so much, future Mrs. Bradshaw,” he says softly against her lips.

“I love you too, Mr. Bradshaw,” she replies, kissing him once more as he lifts her up, wraps her legs around his waist, and carries her inside, kicking the back door shut behind him before heading towards their bedroom.

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups - @alexxavicry

#acewritesfics repost #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader

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violetmina · 3 months

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Chokehold - Ch. 11

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot @itsyellow @lmarina2000 @d3adite666 @casualfansoul @missrandomheart @cvstle @elianamarie-blog @1970sbitch @depressed-but-make-it-cute @loversjoy @raktajinoaddict @trisaratops-mcgee

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,623

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, sexual tension and...well, Butcher.

A/N: I'm back~! Its finally here! After several months, the next chapter of this series! I promised that I would not abandon it, and I meant it. If it feels off in any way, I do apologize. And many thanks to all of you for your support and your patience. If I forgot anyone that wanted to be on the taglist, please let me know asap so I can fix it.

Two things ripped you from sleep that morning. The first was your final alarm blaring from the coffee table. The second was the abrupt awareness of a particular body missing behind you. The combination of the two had your muscles spasming into a flailing upright position, immediately revealing a slight kink in your neck as your brain tried to catch up. Your fingers fumble and flutter over the table in search of the obnoxious sound coming from your phone. Just as your hand starts to slap against the wood in groggy frustration, your eyes just make out a different set of fingers.

“Billy?” It comes out cracked and garbled from sleep.

The alarm dies quickly under his fingers and the blur in your vision shifts in time to bring him into focus, kneeling before you beside the couch. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets you with that crooked smile. “Gotta tell ya, I hear that alarm again, I'm throwing your fucking phone through the wall.”

“You -ah!” You wince as your neck twinges sharp at your attempt to swing your legs to the floor.

“Yeah, your couch did the same number on me,” he mutters. He slips his fingers to your nape, rubbing the smallest of circles there, just on the new knot. It's brief, his hand withdrawing before you can even sink into it, reaching back to bring forward a cup of coffee.

“Here. Can't send you off to Hughie with bags like that under your eyes.”

You give your thanks, taking a long draw before turning back to him. “Speaking of not looking so good, what about-?”

“Nuh-uh.” He wags back a finger at you as he stands to head out of the living room. “We had a deal. You're done playing nurse.”

You roll your eyes, knowing full well you're not going to argue with this mule. Butcher appears unfazed from the previous night's events, strutting in your apartment as his usual. The only outward indication of his escapade was the faintest peek of the liquid stitches on his head and the missing Hawaiian atrocity the blue t-shirt replaced. A very good looking replacement if anyone bothered for your opinion. But bravado and machismo are not enough to throw off what you already know - he was probably bluffing.

Taking a full gulp of coffee, you shuffle behind him towards your kitchen. The pizza box sits empty and abandoned on your counter. But next to it Butcher rifles through an unfamiliar bag, pulling out to-go boxes.

“You brought me breakfast in bed?,” you ask, smirk tight against the rim of your mug.

“Breakfast on couch,” Butcher replies without missing a beat, sliding warm styrofoam towards you before hooking a palm onto your hip. “Since ya made such a point of avoiding your bed.”

“Actually it was you making a point of avoiding my bed. You did say you wouldn't go near it if I wasn't in it, did you not?”

“Awfully cheeky for just starting that coffee.” He pushes away from the counter and pulls you in as you shrug in response. “And we could remedy that in a hurry, yeah? Being in your bed, I mean.”

“I, on the other hand,” you continue, bluntly brushing off the reply, “was avoiding sinful acts so as not to kill you.”

“Not a bad way to go, innit?” Butcher manages to wrap his arm around your back without sloshing your morning brew over either of you.

“Maybe not. But I'd hate to traumatize the others with the vivid details of what you look like naked,” you grin.

“Fuck off,” he hums before hushing you with a kiss. Then, purring into your ear, “You still haven't answered me…Your bed?”

Butcher doesn't give you much of a chance to respond. Not verbally that is. He kisses you again, longer, firmer. Warm steadily turning to hot, a slow delicious simmer. Your free hand slips along his side, just hitching under the hem to brush skin, and you can't remember this shirt feeling this soft. But you're not going to forget now.

Until he gives you something else to remember.

Butcher's grip on your hip grows firmer, and when you part your lips in invitation, his response is no different than how he handles much else - he does not hesitate. He delves to taste and you're quickly preoccupied with his own, enough to kiss back with more fervor. He nips your bottom lip and you know it's still not safe for him, not really. The concussion is still a danger…but you feel your bed pull at you like his fingers starting to tug at your jeans.

Until his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket.

“Billy…”

He shakes his head, whiskers whispering against your face. “It's nuthin’,” he breathes between kisses. “So? This a yes, lov-”

Another buzz.

You catch his wrist as he rips the cell from his pocket, barely saving the offensive thing from a warp speed trip across your apartment. When yours buzzes too on the other side of the room, the noise that rumbles out of him makes you bite your lip. He leans back from you snarling to the roof, “Fuckin’ cockblocks every fuckin’ one of ‘em!”

“That confident were you?” It comes out just a tad breathless.

He stabs a brief glare at you with a snort before finally looking over the interrupting notification. “Surprise, surprise. Hughie.”

“What did he say?”

“New orders, new case. And a little under the table meeting. Same bullshit,” Butcher grumbles. “I'm sure yours is near identical.” He looks up at you, some of the frustration leaving his face to give you a hint of a smile. “All things considered, I'm guessing you'd like me to let him know we'll be each other's plus one to the meeting?”

Butcher gives a little wink before you place your hand over his phone. His hint of humor falters when he sees you staring with furrowed brow at the text message waiting to be answered.

“...No.”

His face mirrors yours. “No? No what?”

You look up at him, shaking your head.

He stares for only a second. Then, “Ah, I get it. I'm your new dirty secret, eh? That it?”

“No,” you reply louder, more abrupt. Had that been the tiniest edge on his playful tone? You look up at him, shaking your head. “I didn't mean that. You're not that. I mean I don't know what you - we-!”

Something twitches in his face at ‘we’, something that makes part of you flinch, and you take a breath before speaking. “What I meant,” you answer slowly, “is that we shouldn't say anything just yet. Not to the others. I don't want anyone thinking that I didn't earn my place here, pull my weight. Especially Hughie.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“He's already shown me once how quickly he can change his mind, even more so when it comes to me doing field work. I hope I won't need you to speak to him on my behalf. But if I do, how much will your word weigh to him if he thinks it's only because we're past being friends…coworkers…what have you…”

You trail off on that thought, cutting back to the point. “Anyway, more importantly, we've got a big mission here. And I think it would be best if the team has no questions or doubts about where everybody's heads are at. No distractions. Right?”

Butcher gives a slow nod as your words sink in. “That'd be the thing they'd do wouldn't it?” Then with a humorless laugh, “Like they don't question me, bust my balls enough already. And Hughie!” He makes a tsking sound. “Yeah, none of that. We'll deal with this Persuasion business proper first.”

He nods and makes a quick reply to Hughie before sliding his cell back into his pocket. “I best get a move on, meet up with MM while it's still early. And you best get your ass in gear. You need to keep an eye on the congresswoman.”

Butcher smirks as he shrugs on his coat. “Real shame,” he drawls, giving you a long, parting kiss before beginning to back to your door. “Still wouldn't have minded breaking your bed.”

“Could've died,” you sing-song at him.

“Sounds like a good way to go.”

“Sounds like you're trying to tell me you wouldn't be worth a second round,” you tease.

Butcher shakes his head, a dark, heavy look rolling in his eyes at your sass. “When did I ever say it’d take only one round?” He pauses in your door. “That's a shame, love. I thought you knew me better than that.”

With a smirk your way and a glance over your apartment, he closes the door. You let out a sigh somewhere between relief and disappointment, picking at your to-go box as you remember the coffee somehow still in your hand. “Not yet,” you smile in response to his parting words.

As you eat the breakfast Butcher had delivered, you did your best to focus on the little spark of excitement in you, and ignore the last look he'd given your apartment. Ignore the sharp flicker he'd given the windows.

^^^

“We got one!”

You nearly jump as a news article slaps onto your desk. Hughie beams down at you, almost smug before sliding it closer to you. “Got one?”

“A supe. That fungi one, what's-his-face -”

“Cordycep?”

“Yep,” Hughie grins. “The asshole who was caught spraying those spores everywhere to hypnotize people. His case finally went to the judge. And the judge threw the book at him.”

You skim over the article as he leans against your cubicle wall, clearly pleased. “You're not kidding. Found guilty of all twenty-six counts of fraud, identity and grand theft, and forgery.”

“Every single one,” he says. “A long sentence. And no chance of parole at this time, or bail. We did that. We did that!”

You suppress a laugh as he takes back the article with a fist in the air. “That's kinda the point, isn't it? That's why the bureau exists.”

“I don't mean the bureau. I mean us,” he replies. Then he continues with earnest, “I know that the team has been kinda frustrated lately. We covered this case, and several like it, and it feels like we've been trying to climb shit mountain every time. But this shows that it's working. We're making a difference. And we didn't have to scrub blood out of our clothes to do it.”

“This time,” you emphasize. “We didn't have to this time. Forgive me for raining on your parade a little. But let's keep a little pragmatism here. Cordycep was a push over. Most of the supes aren't.”

He waves you off but you still notice the slight slump in his shoulders. “Whatever. Point is that we are making a little progress.”

You feel a twinge of guilt for being a bit of a realist on him. But despite that, part of you wants to celebrate with him. There has been progress for both the Boys and the bureau. Slow, grinding, frustrating progress. But still progress. Although, if Butcher were the one to measure, you would be found short today. You hadn't been able to keep an eye on Neuman as intended. Even those at work had only seen her in passing glimpses by her office.

With that in mind, you lower your voice just slightly. “Speaking of progress, are we still going over reports tonight with the team? That quarterly thing?”

Hughie nods as he straightens a little, eyes scanning for the congresswoman. “Yep. Right. Quarterly reports. Gotta make sure we're within budget and all that.”

“And are Annie and I still on for girls night?,” you ask, absently shuffling through some files. Not like you care what they are.

“Yes. Actually she hinted that she might - might - be able to stop by tonight. You know, say hello. Iron out some stuff for your upcoming bonding time.”

That certainly puts a little edge in you. You'd be lying to yourself if you thought you weren't hesitant about how the meeting would go. Yes, the whole mission and its variables were certainly part of that. But so was the fact that you now had to keep pretending like nothing was going on between you and Butcher, jiu jitsu or otherwise. Throw in the ever looming threat of Neuman's shadow, and the mutual disdain to put it politely between Annie and Butcher…

“That sounds great,” you smile wanely. “Is everybody else in on that particular detail?”

“Butcher knows,” Hughie deadpans.

“And how many new expletives did you learn from him after telling him?”

“None. Not yet, I mean. He's probably composing a whole list to shove down my throat after the meeting as we speak.”

“Wrapped with a C4 wire bow, I'm sure,” you smirk at him. You slap three files into his chest. “Here. You'll need those for tonight.”

He glares at the manila as if it's offended him while he thumbs the pages. “The hell is this?”

“Budget reports.” Your expression goes flat when his remains confused. “Neuman would want you to have those for the meeting…?”

A beat passes before you see the light bulb come on. “Oh,” he smiles sheepishly. “Riiight. Need those.”

“...How the hell are you my boss again?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles before pushing away from your cubicle to avoid the return of your smirk. Before he dips out of sight he peeps around the corner one more time. “Oh, by the way…”

“Yeah?”

Hughie spares a genuine smile. “I just wanted to let you know that, uh…I'm glad you're working again. You're kicking ass already.”

Fondness fills your chest and you return the smile before he jokingly barks an order to “kick those papers asses!”, and heads further into the bureau. You sigh at the small mountain of work on your desk before dragging a file towards you.

Kicking more ass than you know, Hughie. Just you wait.

^^^

Homelander's too-piercing blue eyes stare at you through a thin veil of false contrition as you stare back from your seat in the Flatiron. The act is thinner than a blade's edge, and you're grateful for the filter of the LCD screen and a brown-nosed interviewer hired by Vought between you - and everyone this side of the screen - and the supe. It's the second time you've seen it air today, but it still irks as bad as the first time as Homelander lays his woes and regret about Stormfront for the first time publicly since she'd been “apprehended”.

“Fuck him,” Frenchie mutters, snapping your attention away from the TV and back to the crew. He snaps off the TV just as viciously. “And fuck that nazi bitch, whatever is left of her.”

“Can we focus?,” MM asks at his desk, his fingertips burrowing deep in his temples. “We got a lot to cover and very little time to do it.”

Hughie heaves a sigh and nods, looking at each of those present to recollect the room as he stands in the center of it. “He's right. We gotta crunch these last numbers. I'll make it quick. Let's see…MM is good on the books. You submitted that last bit of papers for that druid-wannabe supe, right?”

“Yes. Ready for you to hand off to your attorneys.”

Hughie flashes a thumbs up before turning to the seats near your desk. “Cool. Frenchie, Kimiko. Looks like I just need that last budgeting sheet for…is this a flamethrower? This looks suspiciously like a flamethro- why?”

Kimiko signs before Frenchie grins, “Research purposes.”

You hold back a snicker as Hughie presses on. “Fuck, fine, whatever. Mallory can deal with that, I guess. So that just leaves-”

“Yours truly.” Butcher's chair creaks next to you at his desk, opposite side of Kimiko, as he swivels slowly with a bit of impatience. “It's all there, mate. Double checked the numbers me self.”

“All of it?,” Hughie presses. “Your ammo and armory form was off a couple digits last month.”

“Yep. Even corrected the pornhub subscription cost on the miscellaneous page.”

“Okay, okay. That was lovely news,” Hughie grimaces as everyone else shares a chuckle. “Bleaching that from my mind and moving on. Budgeting is done. Now for the real meeting.” He glances back and forth between Butcher and MM. “Any new leads on Persuasion or Walsh?”

“Only that Walsh is hiring third party goons to try to keep Vought from crawling up his ass. Ambushed me at the club the girl talked about,” Butcher shrugs. “Patched myself up away from the hospitals, so we don't have any tails there.”

Your mind slips into the memory of your fingers running through Butcher's damp locks. It hazes briefly at the memory of calloused hands and warm lips before you remind yourself that there's a reason you and Butcher are not sitting directly next to each other right now.

“I found two other cases from the same night,” MM cuts in. “One male and one female victim, not as lucky as our first. They were from different sides of town. Vought got to them long before me though. But from what I could gather, the situations are uncannily similar. If this is a test run, this drug is going to spread fast.”

“No faster than what Walsh will allow, you mean,” Hughie interjects. “He still has to keep ahead and under Vought’s radar.”

“Any clues what it's for?,” you ask.

“I have less leads than them,” Frenchie replies, rubbing the back of his head in agitation. “After what happened with the last sample, I've had to take the experiments a little slow.��

Hughie shakes his head. “Not gonna lie, that's not great news for our timeline before the gala. How are we coming on that?”

Frenchie perks up a bit. “That I do have good news. My surveillance equipment should be here within a few days. But I will need to know where in the gala we are playing our roles. I need just a little time to make any necessary changes to it.”

Butcher gestures around the room. “So? Where do you lot all wanna be?”

There's the crackle of paper as Frenchie smooths out the schematics splayed out on his desk, Kimiko and MM leaning to peer behind him. “We all start at the top and work down, right?,” MM begins. “Fifteen floors down. We should stack. Nobody more than one floor apart from each other. So I'll take fourteen and every third floor on.”

Hughie starts ticking off fingers. “So that means…”

“Means MM,” Butcher says, rising from his desk to stride to view the schematics, “will take fourteen, eleven, eight, five, and two. The love birds have to split what's left, and they all converge in the sublevels.”

Kimiko types rapidly into her phone before showing the display to everyone. I want to be closest to either of them if they need backup, it reads. I'll take thirteen down.

“I guess that leaves me with levels divisible by three,” Frenchie shrugs.

“What kind of modifications are you thinking?,” you ask him.

“Mostly wardrobe, so I know how to disguise your surveillance gear.”

Kimiko and Hughie smile, confusing you until you hear a voice behind you pipe up, “I guess I snuck out at the right time then.”

All eyes turn and you find Annie coming into the office. While you feel Butcher's not-so-welcoming smirk bloom from his spot, you and Kimiko each greet her with a warm hug before she greets Hughie the same with a kiss tagged on. “I'm guessing this isn't the budget report we're talking about?,” she asks the room.

“We could go back to that,” Butcher grins. “Being the altruistic soul you are, Starlight, I'm sure you'd be more than happy to make a generous donation to our cause, no? And using that Seven member payroll to stick it to Vought?” He lets out a low whistle. “It'd be poetry.”

“Tempting,” she responds tersely. “But even my money is micromanaged. Getting my charity for at-risk youth off the ground has been like pulling teeth, even with all the good PR Vought is expecting. And the last thing all of you need is for Vought to be sniffing further into my ‘donations’. Don't you think?”

“If you're a stingy bitch, you can just say that.”

“Okay!” Hughie quickly cuts in, placing his thin frame in the direct heat of their glaring. You're surprised he doesn't melt like butter in the thick of it. “Let's remember we're all on the same side here. We'll give you ladies a chance to talk over things while we, uh, find the best place to put our surveillance team.”

“I won't keep her long. The less I know, probably the better. At least in this case.” Annie gives Butcher one more pointed glare before shuffling you off a few paces. “It's been awhile since he's worn a shirt that didn't look like he stole it from a Miami retirement home,” she grumbles.

Oh, you had definitely noticed. He was still wearing the blue shirt from your closet, and Hughie had made a similar comment when he had walked into the Flatiron. Butcher merely brushed it off with something about laundry day. Thwarting away the image of what lay beneath said shirt, all stretched out on your couch, you asked, “We're still on tomorrow then?”

“Yes. I know a guy from my Christ for Capes days, his name is Torsten. He doesn't work for Vought but a lot of his clientele have been supes. He's got a hole in the wall for a shop in Manhattan. He can definitely tailor something for what you need.”

She glances at Hughie, who is preoccupied arguing with Butcher that no, they can't park the van in the goddamn venue lobby. Then says, “I get wanting to wear something you can fight in. But can you? Not saying you don't know how to take care of yourself. I'm just hoping you're going to have enough time to learn what you need.”

You wave at the team as MM seems to get them back on track over the schematics. “If there's anybody that can get me ready with this kind of time crunch, it's these guys. Right?”

Her eyes crinkle as she looks over each of them. “I mean…kinda? A little. I don't think their insurance would agree, but...”

“Says the one who can take a bullet to the chest,” you jibe back.

“Well I don't know what the hell they'll teach you. But we'll get you fitted for it.”

The idea of pitching Annie to supplement your training flits in your brain. What better way to learn than from the one friendly supe in your corner? But immediately you reject it. Annie is already under constant suspicion from the Seven, Homelander most of all. Not to mention what little spare time she has is just that - very little. And again, would she be able to hide your training from Hughie till the right time? Especially if she knew Butcher was involved, in more ways than one?

Not likely, the little voice huffs.

“Hughie told you about meeting at the apartment at 4, right?,” she asks, dragging you from your thoughts.

You nod.

“Okay. We'll meet there, then head to Torsten's. My window will be small though before I have to get back to the tower. So think about what you might like for the gala. He's a damn good tailor but not a miracle worker, and we're calling it pretty tight as is.”

“Sounds good. But one problem. I don't exactly have a budget for a custom fit. And Butcher wasn't completely wrong about needing financing for this.”

Annie shakes her head. “Don't worry about it. Torsten owes me a favor anyway. And it helps me get away from the tower for a time. Which…” She glances at the clock on her phone. “...I am nearly out of myself already.”

“You're not staying?”

“No,” she sighs. “I wanted to get the details to you in person, less risk of our plans being tracked or leaked that way. That and I need to talk to Hughie for a bit. I meant what I said about knowing less. Our resident asshole-”

“Which one?,” you ask in a cheeky tone.

“Our resident asshole,” she continues, “doesn't need any more reason to doubt my intentions. The less I know, the safer all of us will be if shit hits the fan, especially with Vought. Gotta keep my nose clean after the last time I was accused of treason, too.”

“I appreciate your help, Annie.” You glance over at Hughie and Butcher, still mapping out the eventual parking spot of the surveillance van. You notice MM approaching you. “I'll let you talk to your boy toy and see you tomorrow. I have a feeling I'm needed now.”

“That would be correct,” the big man says as he steps up beside you. “We need to start working on your ability to read the room. More like you should've started yesterday. So if you need anything, snacks, restroom break, whatever - now is the time. We're gonna be here late tonight.”

You give Annie another hug before she motions for Hughie to join her for a hushed discussion. You move back towards the others and the venue map with MM. “So what does this entail?”

“Body language is the big one. You use it all the time, you just don't know it. A lot of social cues are given and read more subconsciously. Your role in this depends on it.”

As Hughie and Annie call out a good night, explaining that they needed to headout, Butcher waves them off dismissively and walks towards his desk at the end of the office. “Already we got a snag in your little lesson here, MM. You think four of us is gonna be the same as reading a packed ballroom?”

“No, I think we are her training wheels and that's better than nothing.” There's a hint of exasperation in his tone. You have the distinct impression that Butcher has voiced his charming opinions to the crew on you being their spy for the event. If said impression was right, then at least you knew the crew was on your side.

Frenchie slides across his own desk with a small smile at the corners of his mouth. He disappears for a brief second before bobbing back up with a Bluetooth speaker, and begins setting it up with his phone.

MM watches him incredulously, palms up in confusion. “The fuck is he doin’? The fuck you doin’, Frenchie?”

“I am setting up for the lesson. We are teaching her body language cues, the gala is in a ballroom…” He thumbs over his phone screen before beaming at you. “So dancing serves for both, non?”

MM wipes a hand over his face as Kimiko sticks out her hands in invitation to Frenchie. “Oh my god, fucking really?”

“We're working, not fucking about!,” Butcher growls as a song comes on at random. The sound of a howl and three single notes flow out of the speaker, and Frenchie looks at it with doubt. But he shrugs and begins to turn and shuffle about with Kimiko.

You recognize now that his random playlist had chosen “Lil’ Red Riding Hood”. Not something you even expected with all the French rap you usually heard him play. You highly doubt this will be played at the gala either, but you just smile, enjoying the duo's antics as MM vents his frustration.

“As you can see, Kimiko's body language is open. She smiles! She is relaxed!”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Frenchie…”

You nod with thick enthusiasm, ignoring Butcher grumbling. “Yes, yes. I see.”

The duo continue to wheel about in the limited space as the song progresses. “Now notice that both of us have some tension in our shoulders? That is from suppression. Why?”

“Why?,” you play along.

“To not laugh at these two boring fuckers!”

MM flips them both the finger, which they return in kind. After another moment, MM finally steps forward. “Hold on, hold on. Let's at least do this proper. Kimiko? May have your hand?”

They paused, confused. But you catch a glint in MM's eyes and you give her the thumbs up. To Frenchie’s surprise, MM takes her hand, doing his best to maintain proper dance form with the size difference. He makes a “eyes on me” motion at you.

“Watch and learn. If you didn't notice, poor Kimiko's body language was giving all the subtle signs of distress.” He begins to move into a different dance than the awkward shuffle from before. “And why? She needed saving. Because he, and his white ass, ain't got no rhythm, and this is clearly a motherfucking tango!”

“Oh fuck you! You think I can't fucking tango?”

MM sweeps Kimiko further away. “Nah, you don't get her back now. You hijack my lesson, I hijack your dance partner.”

You can't help but laugh as Frenchie stomps after them, apparently offended, and MM dancing just out of reach round the office with Kimiko standing on his toes. After the apprehension you'd had about this meeting, this is a pleasant change of pace. But you know the song is just about over, and there's still work to be done. Not to mention there was still the hardass who definitely would not be dancing.

You tear your eyes from the three cavorting about, ready to catch Butcher scowling across the room. Instead, you catch him taking advantage of the trio's distraction to stare right at you. A small knowing smirk appears as the last verse plays.

Lil’ Red Riding Hood

You sure are looking good

You're everything a big bad wolf could want.

You're hit with the memory of that night at the motel, him staring up at you with that same damn look. Those wolfish eyes. He's being awfully bold, right in front of the others. But was he really anything else?

You are not going to make this easy, are you?, you think.

And in the blink of an eye, it vanishes and he is glowering at the others. Teaching you not to be distracted it would seem. He approaches them as they settle. “Turn the music off, and it stays off,” he snaps. “All she's learned in the last three minutes is how to look like a right wanker in a crowd. Which is exactly what she doesn't fucking need when she's supposed to sneak in, and then sneak the fuck out.”

He snatches Frenchie's phone and tosses it to him. Giving the other two one last huff, he turns to you. “Let's start with identifying when someone has a concealed weapon. Something you'll actually fucking use…”

^^^

Hours later, far later than you had even expected, you sit in Butcher's car, head propped against the cool glass of the window. You had originally hoped that he would insist on a rolling session after the training you'd done with the Boys. Or rather a rolling session and seeing where it would lead. But when Butcher had volunteered to drive you home - before the others could - on the ride in the elevator down, he had informed you that he would be out looking for leads again.

You admit, you were a little disappointed. But turning your head to look at him in the passing lights, you see just a trace of fatigue in the wrinkles by his eyes. A ghost of his concussion. And to be honest, you were still a little haggard from a long day, and the long night before playing Florence Nightingale to his stubborn ass. It was better this way.

That didn't stop him from cursing your fatigue. He peeled his hand off the steering wheel and placed it on your knee, rubbing firm circles there with the pad of his thumb. Just like that night at the motel, whistling low and slow that damn song in the Flatiron, as if in case you weren't remembering it.

You arched one eyebrow at him as he parked at the curb outside your building. He arched one back at you with a devilish look. “What? Something on yer mind, love?”

“Just wondering if I'm going to have to patch you up again tonight.”

“Are you now?” His voice is thick with disbelief. He gives your thigh a warm squeeze. “That all?”

“Yep.” You make sure not to bat an eye. “Not much else to think about tonight.”

“Well in that case…” The seat creaks as he leans in and kisses you. Firm and slow. Like that hand that glides up your thigh. Like the way he presses it against the center seam of your jeans…

And he pulls away just as you inhale sharply. “...In that case, since you got nothing to think about, I'll let you dance on up to bed for the night.” He unbuckles your seat belt for you with a cocky twist of his lip.

Fucker.

“Yeah. Not much to think about.” You make no attempt at hiding the frustration in your tone. You hear Butcher chuckle as you step out of the car.

“Give Tinkerbell my regards tomorrow,” he nods. Then with a wink, “And keep that bed warm in case I need a nurse, yeah? Be seeing you real soon, love.”

He closes the door and peels out into the road. You grit your teeth at how painfully aware you are of exactly how your jeans sit now. But you shake your head with a smile as you watch his taillights shrink. Because something tells you that the reason he peeled out was to keep him from stepping out of that car with you.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months

Note

That was amazing! This will be my last request around Eri!Reader until you reopen your requests so I’m not spamming you! (Thank you so much for writing these, I get so excited whenever you post since your so amazing and talented!! 💞✨)

Part 14 After returning to Water 7 to heal from their battle (And happy to learn Franky is going to make them a Ship and join them) Garp the Fist comes in, and reveals to be Luffy’s Grandfather, but before he could continue beating the snot out of Luffy, Reader stops him (Garp is happy to finally meet his one and only Granddaughter Reader!)

However Garp ends up pissed when Luffy told him Spadam hit her, and wants to get his hands on him! (No one puts their hands on his Granddaughter!! NO ONE!!)

Though Reader calms Luffy and Garp down from wanting to go back/to Enies Lobby to beat Spadam up (Garp’s cackling after learing that his sweet Granddaughter hit Spadam in his ‘Royal Jewels’, as he’s very proud of her for doing that) and leaves the Straw Hats alone after telling Luffy about his dad Dragon (Not before promising to spend time with Reader and gives her one of his Rice Crackers)

For the next 3 days the Straw Hats and all of Water 7 had a huge party, with Reader playing around with Chimney and Gonbei in her bathing suit Franky gave her (Including little Arm Floats that look like Starfish/Kitties)

And with Nami’s help, Reader calls Ace to talk with him, and Ace was holding in his rage after hearing what his little sister went through (As she told him it was scary) and the fact she got slapped, but he started laughing when Luffy told him what Reader did to Spadam’s ‘Jewels’ (Whitebeard and his sons were doing the same thing as Ace, angry and furious, but proceeded to laugh hysterically after learning what Reader did to someone’s ‘Jewels’)

I love Whitebeard so much (He’s so protective and caring about those apart of his family) he’s just a giant softie

They all see not only Zoro, Luffy, Robin and Reader’s Bounties upgraded, but everyone get a Bounty themselves (And everyone screamed when Reader’s bounty Skyrocketed again at 320-350 Million)

Reader also comforts her Brother Sanji about his Wanted Poster by giving him one of her own drawings of him (It’s a kid drawing, but compared to Luffy, it’s 100x better than his art skills and she drew it out of love)

I’ll wait until next time to ask you for a Garp and Eri!Reader Special (They’re going to spend a whole day together!) it’s just pure. unadulterated. Fluff.

-It had been two days since you and your family arrived back from Enies Lobby, as many of you were severely injured, you were luckily, being the least injured, but after overworking your quirk, you were just as tired as the rest of them.

-You were so happy that Franky was a part of the crew and that Usopp was back, as you felt protective of your family, you never wanted any of them to leave- you never wanted to be apart from them.

-Franky was super nice to you as the others were slowly waking up, both him and Iceburg treating you to breakfast as you were the first to wake up.

-You were in awe, seeing Luffy still sleeping but also eating, unable to look away until Sanji and Nami yelled at him to wake up while Robin and Usopp were laughing lightly at the sight.

-A knock then came from the door before it burst open and Franky dropped his shoulder, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the debris.

-A large man then entered, a marine which made you clutch at Franky’s Hawaiian shirt, scared as everyone was quickly able to recognize this man, Monkey D. Garp!

-Luffy’s jaw was dropped, “Grandpa?!” everyone quickly turned in shock, hearing this, yelling in shock while your little hands came to your face in shock.

-Garp then made you gasp as he punched Luffy, sending him flying into a wall. Zoro and Sanji were stunned, ready for a fight, seeing that he was able to hurt Luffy.

-You pushed on Franky’s chest and you managed to slip out of his arms and you ran over as Garp stalked towards Luffy, cracking his knuckles, ready to discipline him before you ran in front of your brother.

-Your arms were spread and you had big fat tears in your eyes, “Please don’t hurt my big brother!” everything froze, seeing you protecting Luffy and Garp stammered, trying to tell you that he wasn’t going to hurt Luffy, just discipline him.

-The tears fell from your eyes and Garp instantly fell to his knees, hugging you close, “Grandpa’s so sorry little Y/N! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

-You sniffled loudly as Luffy struggled to his feet, a bit dizzy, before you spoke, “You’re my grandpa?” Garp glared at Luffy, his eyes turning red, “You didn’t tell her about your one and only grandpa?!”

-You tugged on Garp’s shirt gently, not seeing him as someone so scary now, “I have two grandpas- you’re my second one!”

-Garp turned to stone in shock before crumbling into a sobbing pile while Robin picked you up, holding you up on her hip, he cried, lamenting that he wasn’t your first grandpa.

-He then shot up, looking completely fine, looking fired up, “So who was your first grandpa?!” he wanted to find out to take that title from whoever got to you first, no matter who it was.

-You beamed brightly, your arms lifting to the sky happily, “I’ve never seen him but I’ve talked to him with Big Brother Ace- he said his name is Whitebeard!”

-The flames around Garp seemed to increase, growing hotter as his eyes turned red, furious that his adorable granddaughter had been adopted by Whitebeard of all people and that you saw him as your first grandpa, while Garp was in second place!

-He could only imagine you (in cartoon form), in Whitebeard’s arms, laughing with him as he stood on the 1st place spot of a podium while Garp was on his knees in second place.

-Garp wasn’t going to deal with your crew at the moment, instead joining you all for a meal, you sitting on his knee as you held a cup of juice.

-Garp noticed the bandage on your head, “What caused this?” you lifted your hand to your head and Nami was the one to answer, “It was that marine, Spandam- he hit Y/N for trying to protect Robin.”

-Garp froze, turning white, hearing that a grown adult- a grown man, put his hands on a child, injuring you as he was quick to get fired up, “Where is the bas-basket case!” he caught himself, not wanting to swear in front of you.

-You didn’t know why he was calling Spandam a basket, before his face appeared in your head, and his mask did look a bit like a basket.

-Your family was also still furious at Spandam, glaring and voicing their own anger while you were eating a cookie Garp gave to you.

-Nami pointed at him, scolding him, “Oi! Don’t be giving her cookies for breakfast!” you flinched as Garp just beamed brightly, “It’s fine- it’s fine!” Sanji grabbed you, “It is not fine! She needs healthy food in the morning.” Garp pouted, wanting to spoil you.

-He then spoke again, “So where is Spandam?” a few grins appeared as Franky ruffled your hair gently, “Y/N here took care of him, with a well-placed headbutt to the family jewels!”

-Garp laughed loudly, finding it hysterical, before he ruffled your head, praising you before he stood, telling Luffy about Dragon, his dad and you had question marks floating around your head, as you didn’t know any dragons.

-Luffy told you that he would tell you all about his dad and Garp gave you a bag of cookies, “I have to leave now my little Y/N~ I’ll come back to spend some time with you.”

-You smiled up at him, holding your hand up to him, extending your pinkie finger, “Pinkie promise?” Usopp was the one to teach you about pinkie promises, and Garp as well as several others around, Usopp, Luffy, Franky, Iceberg, and Sanji, all collapsed to the ground, clutching at their chests at your cuteness.

-After Garp left and all the damage caused by Aqua Laguna was fixed, everyone celebrated! There was a huge party with drinking, eating lots of barbeque, and you got to run around with Chimney in the water, being a normal kid for one, wearing your starfish shaped water wings that Franky gave you over your wet suit.

-Franky was confused why you were wearing a wet suit as he was your lifeguard, letting you sit on his leg, asking you and you pulled your arms in close, looking down at your hands, “There’s…” you couldn’t speak, instead pulling your sleeve up, showing him the scars, at least some of them, on your arms.

-His eyes were wide, seeing his as he held your hand gently, before a hand on his head pulled him out of his shock, and you both saw Luffy there who kneeled down, seeing you showing Franky your scars, “Someone hurt Y/N- badly. We don’t know much, but all we know is that he will never touch her again.”

-You gave Luffy a small nod before you all decided to head to the ship for a private party, having a bath with Robin and Nami while the boys started up a barbeque.

-You ran out to Luffy, grabbing his hand, pulling him away from the fire, looking excited as Nami grinned, walking out with Ace’s DenDen Mushi, “Nami and I are gonna call Ace and grandpa!”

-You sat on Luffy’s lap while he continued to eat, not bothering you heard it ringing before you heard Ace, “Is this my most favorite little sister~?” you giggled warmly, “Hi Ace!”

-Aboard the Moby Dick, their own drinking party, because it was Wednesday, everything went quiet as most everyone huddled around Ace, hearing the voice of their adorable little sister and granddaughter.

-You and Ace talked about your most recent adventures, including where Robin was kidnapped and then you were taken too. Ace was furious, flames surrounding him as they all heard that Spandam hurt you- and Whitebeard was ready to call for an attack before Nami had to tell Ace that you took care of Spandam yourself, taking out his family jewels.

-It was silent on the other side, all their anger instantly leaving before you flinched back into Luffy’s arms, hearing the roar of laughter from the other side.

-Once Ace was able to breathe again, he spoke, “What else happened?” you beamed brightly, “I met another grandpa- his name is Garp!”

-Ace shivered deeply, recalling his own memories of Garp before he managed to force a smile, “Oh? And how was he?” you thought for a moment, “Kinda loud- and he cried when I told him that Whitebeard is my first grandpa, while he was my second.”

-Whitebeard beamed warmly, hearing that he was your first, but he couldn’t help but imagine Garp lamenting over the fact that he was the second.

-The following day, you woke up to loud shouting and you wandered out of your room, a little delirous as you wandered over, rubbing your eyes as you grabbed Zoro’s pants, “Why is everyone yelling?”

-He kneeled down, putting his hand on your head and your eyes went wide as everyone showed you their new bounties, your eyes immediately sparkling brightly.

-Robin then smiled, “Here Y/N- this one is yours.” You looked exited, taking it while Luffy was pouting lightly, seeing your 400,000,000 beri bounty while you were gawking, “So many zeros!”

-You quickly ran to put it up on your wall, showing the other bounties as well and you beamed, feeling proud of yourself.

-You then noticed Sanji looked sad when you came back out and you quickly found out why, because the marines didn’t have a good photo, so they used a crudely drawn one by Luffy instead and Sanji was upset because it didn’t look a thing like him!

-You quickly ran back to your room, coming out with your drawing materials Usopp had given you and you got to work, making a new bounty poster to make your big brother happy!

-It took you over an hour to draw, everyone who had seen you saw the focus on your face before you ran to Sanji, “I made it better!”

-You drew your own bounty poster, including ‘bounty’ being spelled wrong, and a children’s drawing in the middle, showing Sanji making food with hearts surrounding him.

-Sanji fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he held it up to the sky, overwhelmed with happiness before he cried into his elbow, thanking you warmly, making you beam before your smile grew as he put it on the fridge, “So I can see it every day!”

-You celebrated with your crew, having a big feast to celebrate the new bounties, unaware of the, literal, darkness on the horizon.

#one piece x reader #eri reader #luffy #zoro #nami #sanji #usopp #chopper #nico robin #franky

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Bradley thing where he goes in to get a tattoo and reader does his tattoo and he’s just super love stricken. Next thing he knows he’s going to get tattooed just to see reader till he finally asks her to go on a date??? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Honest to God, if Bradley knew that you were going to be the girl doing his tattoo today, he would've pretended to be sick to get out of the appointment. He would've just gone to a different tattoo place entirely. But it's too late now--he's here, sitting in your little cubicle with its potted plants and hand-drawn posters and knick-knacks and bluetooth speaker, and you're quietly humming as you look over his paperwork.

It isn't that he thinks you're incapable of doing his tattoo--God, no. You were the name that kept popping up when he asked around for artist recommendations, the highest rated artist in his area (and the surrounding three--but who's counting?). And he knows you'll do a good job because he's seen your work on other people and even if he hadn't, the posters on your wall are evidence alone. Bradley can draw a crude stick figure on a good day--so he is endlessly impressed with your skill.

It's just that you are the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. No, not just pretty--something above that. Beautiful, gorgeous. Fuck, you're ethereal even and Bradley hates people that say ethereal.

Everyone he talked to failed to mention that you are simply the prettiest person in every room you walk into and, Bradley knows just by looking at you, that you're probably the coolest person at every party you've ever been to.

You have big eyes that you wear bright colors on, which look almost too good against your skin and those pretty irises. Just looking at you legit makes Bradley want to bite his knuckle. You have a cool haircut, one that is polar opposite of all the Navy-issued chop-jobs he's so used to seeing, and your voice is raspy and lovely. You're wearing authentic vintage Levi's and a smooth bodysuit, one that hugs your body, one that shows the hills of your breasts so well.

Simply put--you're fucking perfect.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that you're so fucking nice. From the moment he walked through the door, you were all smiles, leading him back to your little area and talking him through everything without making him feel like an idiot. You were offering him drinks and asking what his ideas were and then complimenting his ideas. You were making all the little tweaks he wanted and not complaining about it even a little bit.

And now, as he sits on your table with his foot tapping incessantly on the tile, he's just watching your throat vibrate as you hum. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he does, it makes him want to rake his hands through his hair.

"Leather and Lace?" He asks you, perching a brow.

And the way you laugh, looking up at him with a bright grin as the sun kisses your face, should be illegal. You're about to put a needle to his skin and watch him cower in pain--he wishes you would take that into account and look less Goddess-like, for the sake of his ego.

"Stevie is my idol," you sigh, pointing casually to the portrait of her on your arm. He inspects it with a smile tugging at his lips, hoping his ears aren't as red as they feel. "You're a big music guy, then?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed. Isn't everyone a big music person? Who the fuck doesn't like music?

You like this guy--this guy that told you to call him Rooster for some reason. This guy who's wearing the ugliest vintage Hawaiian shirt you've ever seen. This guy who has a lewd pornstache, the one who somehow pulls off the lewd pornstache. God, this guy is still wearing his sunglasses inside, but he's just so goddamn cute. He has one of those infectious laughs and a headful of nice, sandy hair. He looks like California has kissed him--pretty. He just looks pretty.

But you can tell that he's nervous. Most people are before getting under the needle--you totally get it. Sometimes you still get nervous about it, too, despite having your arms almost all the way filled in. but you have a hard time imagining this hunk of a Navy man is nervous about a tattoo on his peck. Even just based on the scars littering his face and throat, you're certain he's been through worse.

"So," you sigh, moving your chair closer to him so he can see the paper in your hands that has the mock-up of his tattoo. He leans in and you get a whiff of sea salt and vetiver--God, he smells good. "I scaled down the legs just a bit. I was thinking some light shading through here and filling in here and here--is that okay with you?"

Rooster nods, swallowing hard, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It looks good," he tells you. "Like really, really good."

You beam at him.

"Well, thank you," you say softly. "I'm a big art girl."

It makes something come loose in his chest--some breath he's had bated releases through his smiling lips. You're teasing him, you're joking with him. It feels good--natural.

"So, with this detail, I'm gonna put us at three hours. Does that sound good?"

Rooster nods immediately--his afternoon is entirely clear. But the prospect of getting to be with you for three hours is exciting--so exciting that it makes his throat tight. Needle be damned, he's going to get to listen to that laugh for three hours. Three!

"Sounds great," he tells you.

You grin, clapping your hands together.

"Well, I bet we're gonna be good friends by the end of this, huh?"

He grins. He already aches to kiss you and he doesn't even know you. Rooster does consider himself a hopeless romantic--but this is a whole new line he's crossing.

You point to his shirt, a slight blush covering your cheeks.

"You can go ahead and take that off now. I'm gonna prep the area."

As he obliges, he watches as you grab a little plastic razor and some paper towels. You're putting gloves on and still humming along to music that isn't playing, mentally cataloguing everything you're gonna need presently.

"Prepping the area includes--?"

You smile, standing up. He still hasn't taken his tank-top off yet, but you can tell already that this guy is fucking ripped. Not even in the usual California way--no, this guy is like movie-star ripped. He looks like he's been plucked out of a blockbuster.

"Shaving and disinfecting," you tell him, gesturing to the razor.

He nods, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he finally shrugs his tank and lets it fall into the chair he was sitting in.

"At least let me buy you dinner first," he teases.

Then you laugh--it's the first time he's really heard you laugh. He likes the sound, likes that you laugh with your mouth closed and your eyes wide.

"We'll see how the tattoo goes," you wink.

You're very careful as you shave and disinfect him, humming Stevie Nicks and Don Henley still. And you can feel his eyes lingering on your face as you work, but it doesn't bother you. He has pretty eyes--you're glad he's looking at you.

"Wanna be the DJ?" You ask with a grin, nodding towards the speaker.

Rooster feels like his heart is about to fall out of his ass. If he'd have known that he was going to be DJing this three-hour tattoos session with you--the prettiest girl he has ever seen--he would've made a playlist. Like, a proper playlist. One that is carefully curated and accounts for all possible avenues of this appointment. His dad used to make his mom mixed tapes--he still listens to them. Even though he thinks that making playlists is only a fraction as romantic, he understands that it's the modern mixed tape.

"Sure," he says softly, connecting his phone. "Are you exclusively a Fleetwood Mac girl?"

You shake your head, making sure all your ink is set out on their stabilizing beds of petroleum jelly and your gloves are intact. You pat the bed and he takes the hint, laying down while you adjust the light above you. Jesus, his muscles are practically rippling and he's not even doing anything.

"Mainly," you tell him, running your fingers along his peck and trying not to drool. "But I'm pretty diverse with my music. Hit me with your best shot."

Bradley suddenly feels nervous--put on the spot. It isn't even that he is about to have a needle against his skin. No, he was in Afghanistan, he doesn't really give a fuck about three hours of needle pricks. He cares about picking a song you think is lame. God, he'd just die of embarrassment if you didn't like what he chose.

As if you can sense his sudden nervousness, you grin up at him--it has the ability to completely relax his shoulders.

"C'mon, flyboy," you smile at him, readying your tattoo gun, "give it to me."

And suddenly Bradley can't breathe. You know that--it's why you said it. You watch him suck in a breath, watch him flounder for words, watch his pupils blow. Now he knows what it feels like for you to stare at his upsettingly beautiful midsection.

So Bradley gives it to you--very subtly turning on Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. It makes the both of you laugh--you even dance a little bit for him, in a silly and unserious way that makes his heart warm.

"Bet you're a good time at the bars," he tells you with a grin.

You nod rapidly, biting your lip.

"Oh, I'm the best to go to bars with," you tell him with a grin. "I dance and I sing and I drink."

"Triple threat," Bradley grins.

You nod again, chewing on your lip again. This guy is cute--like too cute for his own good.

"Few and far in between," you say, sighing. "I'm really a spectacle."

His heart is sitting in his throat. He loves the way you blush when you're being mockingly egotistical--he thinks that makes you genuine. Genuine and confident.

"I'd gladly spectate you at any bar," he says. You smile at him, the blush in your cheeks darkening as you narrow your eyes slightly. "You know, if you're up for it."

Your answer is a resounding yes--you know that already. But you can't just give it to him like that--you like to keep guys on their toes. Especially Navy boys.

"Actually, I have a two-tattoo minimum dating requirement," you sigh, shrugging.

He smirks at you. He can do this--he can do the chase.

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"Unfortunately," you say.

"What's your availability look like tomorrow?"

There's that sweet laugh again--it's bigger this time. God, Bradley loves to make you laugh. You just look so fucking happy. Happiness looks really, really good on you.

It isn't hard for him to imagine that you really are the best person to go to the bars with. He can imagine you in a pretty little skirt, sweat dampening your hairline as you twirl on the dance floor, the golden lights above you reflecting off the glitter on your eyelids. He can imagine that your warmth would be enough to heat the entire place. You seem like someone who is just down--down for anything and everything. He likes that.

"Ready?" You ask sweetly not a moment after, still laughing quietly.

He just nods, blinking rapidly at you.

The three hours honestly flies by. The pain really isn't all that bad, not when you're making conversation the entire time. By the end of the tattoo session, he knows where you grew up and that you don't have a boyfriend and that you have a cat named Strawberry and that you don't have a boyfriend and that your favorite food is street tacos and that you don't have a boyfriend and your first concert was Neil Young. Oh, and that you don't have a boyfriend.

And by the end of the tattoo, you know that Bradley is getting the tattoo in memory of his father, who was also in the Navy. You know that he has an affinity for Jerry Lee Lewis. You know that he has a vintage car and an endless collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts. You know he's gonna be stationed here indefinitely and that he hangs out at the local Navy bar--The Hard Deck. And you know that he is endlessly pleased that you don't have a boyfriend.

"Careful sitting up," you warn softly as you take your gloves off. "You've been laying down for a while. Want a hand?"

Bradley feels totally fine. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pushed his body to the brink in his life. Laying down for three hours having a conversation with the prettiest girl he's ever seen is like a luxury for him. But he wants to touch you--so he lets you grab his hand, lets you help him sit up.

And then the two of you are close--like close enough that he can smell that sweet, flowery musk on your skin. He can see the little flecks of his favorite color in your eyes and the way your lashes fan out over your cheeks.

And you can see his scars when you're this close, these pretty white lines that roll over his skin like ridges on a map. You like scars--as an artist, you think they're part of what make bodies art. They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge.

He doesn't move for a moment, just looking down at you with that sweet smile, just letting his eyes wash over you. And you don't move from his gaze--you feel totally comfortable in it. You haven't known Bradley for long, but you're a good people reader. You can tell that this man, intrinsically, is a good person.

"Don't you wanna check out your new ink?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He makes a show of glancing down at his chest with his eyebrow perched. Then he hums and nods in approval. When he looks back up at you, you're biting a grin of your own.

"So," he starts softly. "Your availability tomorrow?"

eeeeek fun fact about me: I have eighteen tattoos! so it would by me greatest HONOR to write this little fic!!

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locker42 · 1 year

Text

“I don’t know why it affects me like this when you’re not even mine to consider.”

- Pedestrian at Best, Courtney Barnett.

Warnings: swearing, masturbation, explicit talks of sex, angst, cheating, use of drugs. (Let me know if I missed anything🥰).

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader.

Words count: 5424.

The first time JJ had met her she didn’t leave quite the good impression on him, considering the only thing that covered her body from his eyes was one of John B’s Hawaiian shirts. He thought she was just a hook up, noting serious. Although he did think she was a little bit out of John B’s legue, to the better though. The next morning when he saw her sitting at the table eating breakfast with his best friend, he knew it was something more serious. John B kept her around for a long while, introducing her to the gang. She hit it off pretty quickly with the rest however JJ kept his distance. It wasn’t until one night when he came out of his room and saw her on the porch that he really made an effort to talk to her.

She was sitting on the couch, a joint held between her fingers as she exhaled the smoke, tilting her head slightly upward. He walked out of the opened door, drawing her attention to him. Now that he was outside he saw her full figure decorated with a shirt that no doubt belonged to John B.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He asked, still standing awkwardly beside her, hesitant to sit next to her.

“Just needed a smoke.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What about you? What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He answered simply, deciding to put his doubts aside and sat down next to her. She put out her hand as an offer for a hit from her joint, he accepted with a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He took two long drags, enjoying the light-headed feeling it provided him.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He said as he handed her the joint.

She took a hit before responding. “I mostly take my smoke breaks on the hammock in the back.”

He nodded, taking the joint from her as she offered it again. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and JJ felt his tiredness slowly slip away from him as he thought of what to say. He felt nervous for some reason, not knowing if striking up a conversation would the appropriate thing to do or maybe she just wanted to sit in silence. Before he could make his decision she made it for him.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice that you are the only one who I didn’t get the chance to speak to.” She said, however her tone wasn’t accusing, she was just stating a fact.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. At first I thought you were just a hook up but then John B decided to keep you around.” He didn’t know what exactly in his words was the cause to her scoff.

“John B decided to keep me around?” She asked, and he knew he had opened his big mouth in the wrong time, again.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly defended himself. “It’s just that he usually doesn’t really have girlfriends, so it surprised me a little to see you stick around.”

“It’s okay, you’re good.” She dismissed him, a smile playing on her lips as she took another hit off the joint. “Oh, look, it’s finished.”

He turned his attention to the joint, only the butt of it left. She pouted before putting it out on the ashtray.

“I hate when that happens.”

“Don’t we all?”

For the first time since he met her, they shared a real smile rather than the polite one the sent the other’s way in the form of greeting. Just now he noticed how the corner of her mouth was tugged to the side and how she pressed her lips together and looked away as he kept his gaze on her. However he couldn’t figure out if she was shy or just uncomfortable. And, god, he wouldn’t forgive himself if it was the latter.

“So, how did you and John B meet?” She asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“We’ve been friends since the third grade and just kept in touch throughout that years.” He explained. She adjusted her position on the couch, turning her body to fully face him as she talked.

“That’s amazing, I don’t think I ever had a friend who stuck around for that long. You two must be very close.” She stated as she leaned her head in her elbow.

Although her first words made him think them over, he chose not to pry and instead commented on the latter of her words.

“Yeah, we’re all very close. Pope and Kie, too.”

“Are any of you dating?”

Her question made him chuckle. “Well, you are dating John B, and I’m pretty sure Pope has a thing for Kiara but he will die before he makes a move.”

She nodded her head, her hand coming to the back of her neck, moving her hair away. Her noticed the start of a small hickey on the collarbone, and something inside him twisted. It didn’t feel good.

“What about you? Any girl who caught your attention?”

Her voice made him return his eyes back to her own, feeling his face heat up in fear that he was caught staring. But she didn’t mention anything. “No, not anyone in particular.”

She nodded her head again, eyes darting from him to the room and he suddenly felt guilty for her visible boredom.

“So, where are you from?” He asked her, a small feeling of satisfaction resting on us heart as she turned back to him.

“Well, I’m originally from Michigan but I moved foster homes all the time so my childhood was kind of spread across the county.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re an orphan?”

“Not exactly. My father was a piece of shit and my mother was never around. One day the neighbors called the police and I was sent away.” She explained, and he was surprised at how casually she said that.

“Some life story you have.” He commented, relieved when he heard her chuckle. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“Wow, so you’ve been in the system for ten years now.”

“Yes.” She tucked a stray of her hair behind her ear and something in him was jealous, wanting to do that himself. “It wasn’t that bad, not until I moved here, anyway.”

“Is it that bad here?” He teased her, a fake hurt look on his face.

She laughed. “No, I like it here. It’s just that no family has ever adopted me, and I got used to being in the orphanage. I had a friend there, Max. He is the funniest guy I have ever met, he really helped me go through everything.”

“That’s good. God, I can’t even imagine going through that.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, wait, what family adopted you here?”

“Do you know the Tedfords?”

“Yeah, they live not too far from here.”

“That’s me.”

That he didn’t know. He was sure she was just a touron John B has met at some party.

“How much time have you been living here? I never saw saw you around the island before you and John B started dating.”

“Almost a year, actually.”

“I have no idea how I never saw you.”

“Well, I don’t around that much, I met John B in the grocery store, nothing special.” She said smiling, and her smile did something to him. It didn’t turn him on but he did feel his heartbeat in his ears, the warmth spreading from his neck to his face again.

“What about you?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. “I’ve only seen you here but I’m pretty sure you don’t live here.”

“Yeah, I don’t. It’s just that most of the time I’m here so it’s easier to just sleep, eat and basically live here as well.” He explained, his body now turned to her. Usually, he’d hate when the part of his father or living situation would come up, but something in her made him want to spill all his secrets, but yet he still kept a straight mind.

“That’s cool, your whole dynamic of the group is really cool.” She said, however there was something in her voice that he quickly picked up on.

“Well, since your dating John B I think we’re officially your friends.” He told her with a reading smile. “Cause we all know what a pain it is to not get along with your boyfriend’s friends.”

She chuckled, pulling her knees to her chest. “Yeah, but gladly John B has some great friends.”

“I’m great, I know.” He said with a cocky smile, sending her a wink.

“I guess you’re okay.” She said with a small giggle, however she had no clue of what that giggle did to his heart. I’m fact, she had no idea of what would become of that innocent, late-night conversation, neither of them knew.

They kept on a good friendship, however JJ’s image of her became further and further from being a friend. He thought of her in all the ways he shouldn’t, all the ways John B thought of her. He cursed himself for feeling that, however that didn’t keep him away from her. He wanted to be near her all day long, to talk to her and to make her laugh. He was well aware of the fact that it wasn’t his job or place to do that. He wanted to stay away from her, but he couldn’t. She was like this drug he couldn’t get enough of, like the best joint he had ever smoked - but better.

They had met a couple more times late at night, smoking together became a habit he learned to love and appreciate. He could listen to her talking all day long. She was different from the other girls he dated in the past, she was much more interesting, and much more like him. Their bond was noticed by the whole group, including John B. JJ was worried that he’d suspected something was going on but he claimed he was just happy she was getting along with the group.

As time passed, JJ and Y/N became closer and closer, however instead of focusing on that, all he though of was how long it’s been since she and John B has started dating. It uncanny for him to keep a girl around for that long, which only meant that they were getting serious, and that only made things harder on JJ. Every time they talked, every time he saw her, all he wanted was to grab her and kiss her - but he couldn’t. Not as long as she was dating his best friend. And even if things were to end between the two, it would be immoral and overall just a dick move to get together with her.

So he kept his distance. Part of him was feeling guilty, seeing as they were becoming good friends with the time, however he knew the temptation was too hard for him to resist.

His self control was put to the test when he had just gotten to the Chateau after a long day of work, only to hear the moans of what he guessed was his best friend and his girlfriend, whom he liked. At first, he thought that they were just having sex, which made him want to run away from the house and curl in a hole for the rest of his life. However after a few seconds, he realized he could only hear Y/N’s moans. His eyes widened at the realization, jaw clenching as he listened to her soft moans, some higher, some breathier, and some so fucking sexy he swore a porn video was playing. But no, it was just Y/N, just the girl he was pretty much in love with, just the girl who dated his best friend. With that, he turned around to leave. He had no right intruding on her privacy or to listen in on her touching herself like some pervert.

But just as he was about to take his first step toward the door, he heard her say something he had grown to love and to cherish the sound of - his name.

“JJ..”

He heard her moan breathlessly, making him take a step closer to John B’s bedroom, rather than to walk out of the house before he does something that he’ll regret. All of his built up self control vanished as once again he heard her moan his name, louder this time.

“Oh, god, JJ, please..”

He felt his pants tighten as a series of moans followed her statement. As she got louder and louder, the only thing JJ could think about was what was going on in her head, what was she imagining as she moaned his name is such a sultry way. Did she imagine him pinning her down on the bed as he took her, leaving marks all over her perfect chest? Or was she imagining herself riding him, breasts bouncing in his face as she used him to get herself off. Or perhaps she imagined laying on her stomach, letting him use her, letting him slap her juicy ass as he rammed his dick into her over and over again until she was so cock drunk she couldn’t even utter a word.

He then realized he was picturing her in every position imaginable for men, however there was only one detail missing - her body. God, what he would do for her little slutty, red bikini to just fall off, and to reveal what he longed to see - what he thought of every night while he stroked himself. He wanted nothing more than to see her beautiful breasts, or her pussy, all dripping for him. As his thoughts carried away he had to physically restrain himself from taking his cock out and cumming all over the wooden floor. Before he could, he shook his head violently and walked out of the Chateau, heading to the dock where his fishing gear was already set up from the day before.

After a few minutes of him trying to clean his mind from the dirty thoughts that had possessed it only moments ago, he turned around to see her walking out of the Chateau, a tank top and jeans shorts adoring her defined figure. She sent him a smile which he returned as she walked over to him, leaning her back on the rail he was leaning his elbows on.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked, and god, he was angry. He was angry that she had the nerve to just come out of there like she didn’t do these slutty actions - like she wasn’t touching herself in a house that wasn’t hers where anyone could walk in. How she dared to look at him with what she probably thought were innocent eyes, however he knew she was far from that.

“All good, where’s John B?”

He cursed himself at the mention of his friend, but he knew that the thought of him was the only thing keeping him from pressing the girl against the railing and slamming hip lips onto hers, whether she wanted it or not. And judging by what he heard, there was a very slim chance that she didn’t.

“He’s working today, told me to spend the day here since all of you are supposed to come by sooner or later.” She answered him, crossing her arms over chest, her breasts slightly pushing upwards, drawing his attention for only one mere second before his looked away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I just got back from work, figured I’ll fish something for dinner.” He said and put his hand on the fishing rod.

“Oh, good. There are new groceries so I can make some salad or something. If anyone else coming as well?”

“Yeah, Pope is supposed to pick Kie up from work so they’ll be here in a few.” He said, not moving his eyes from the water.

“Okay.” She said, and he felt her eyes on him, but he didn’t turn. “Is everything okay?”

He shook his head mentally, why in the hell would she ask that? Did she really care?

“Yeah, just tired.” He responded with a shrug of him shoulders, sending a small smile her way.

She returned the smile with one of her own. “It’s been a while since we had a smoking session, I gotta be honest I’m starting to miss them.”

For the first time since seeing her today, a real smile creeped up on his face. “Yeah, me too.”

He didn’t t bother making up an excuse to why he wasn’t coming out of his room anymore, he knew she deserved better than that.

“Maybe I’ll see you tonight? I got some things to tell you.” She suggested, and he could see the hope in her eyes, and god knew he could never say no to them.

“Maybe you will, and maybe I just got a new stack to try out, some weird combination my cousin made.”

She giggled. With most girls he had met, when they giggled it was the fakest sound he ever heard, most horrible coming in second. He knew it was only a way for them to flirt with him. However with Y/N, he knew it was real and he wanted nothing more than to make her laugh all the time, just to hear it.

“Well, you know I’m always up for a challenge.”

Everything went smooth after what happened, although the sound of her moans never left his mind. She never left his mind. It was bad enough that she was basically living with John B, making him a constant witness to their sex life. JJ tried to remember that it was his name she moaned as she touched herself, not John B’s, however after he heard her scream his best friend’s name, he couldn’t help the jealousy burning in him. God, what he would do to have her.

He started to ignore her again, not completely but he didn’t show up to their mid-night smoking sessions and all the other times he saw her she was with John B so he just kept quiet and let her converse with him or the others. He noticed the confused looks she sent his way, and it hurt him to know that even though they didn’t know each other for that long, she still missed him. He wished he could sit beside her, wrap his arm around her shoulders or hold her hand - but he couldn’t. She wasn’t his, she was with John B.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He turned his head around, only now taking notice of the girl walking his way. He just got back from a ride on the HMS Pouge after a date. It wasn’t anything special - well, not to him anyway - just a distraction. Since he was trying to get over his feelings for her he’s been seeing a lot of girls. Well, hooking up would be the right term. But nothing helped, every time he was in bed with a girl the only thing he could think of was Y/N. His mind instantly went to the sound of her moans, he imagined how her face would look like when she was cumming.

“I haven’t, just been busy.” He replied, turning away to finish tying the boat to the dock.

“Busy? With what?” She asked and cocked her head to the side, taking a step closer to him.

“Just working.” He shrugged.

“Did I do something?” She asked, all hint of playfulness gone, her tone now completely serious.

“No,” he said quickly, “you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” She pressed on, her voice more stern.

“I’m not fucking avoiding you.” He raised his voice, only realizing he did so until he saw her slightly flinch. Guilt immediately consumed him but she already snapped back at him.

“What is your problem? Do you not like me or something?” She asked, and he just shook his head and opened his mouth to deny her suspicions but she wasn’t done. “I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me, I thought we got along-“

She sounded more disappointed and hurt than angry, and that only made him feel even more guilty. He never meant to hurt her, all he wanted was to get rid of the feelings he had for her.

“Y/N, stop.” He said before she could ramble on and on. She glared at him but stopped talking. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you, I do. I mean, in like a friend way. You’re cool. But I’ve just been busy, I’ve got work and I-“

He wanted to tell her the truth - he wanted to tell her how he felt in great hope she’ll return his feelings. But he couldn’t. Because doing that meant losing his best friend, and he didn’t think he could ever be okay with that.

“I have a girlfriend.” He blurted out, however he regretted it immediately after seeing her reaction. She looked hurt - sad even.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She said and dropped her gaze to the floor before quickly looking up at him with a smile, but he knew better than to believe it was real. “I’m so happy for you. Who is she?”

“Just some touron I met at the bonfire.” He said quietly, hoping she didn’t ask any further questions.

“That’s great.” She said and nodded her head. “Sorry I attacked you, obviously I’m not the center of your life.” She added with a chuckle. If only she knew.

“It’s cool, I get it.” He shrugged it off, hoping she didn’t think he was mad. She should be mad at him, for avoiding her with. I explanation whatsoever.

“Good.” She said and stared at him for a few moments before looking away. “I’m gonna go, John B and I are going out for dinner.”

He tried to hide his jealousy and disappointment and smiled at her. “Have fun. But not too much fun.” He teased her with a wink, although his heart was aching for her.

“Thanks. And have fun with your girlfriend, whenever you see her.” She said with a smile of her own - similar to his.

“Thanks.”

As he watched the girl walk away the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to be the one to take her out. He could just imagine it; he’d dress up in a white button up and bring her a bouquet of flowers and take her out on a romantic dinner - just the two of them. Then after the date he would kiss her goodnight and walk her to her door. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t do any of it. And that hurt him more than anything.

_________

This was officially JJ’s worst day ever. He went to work only to be yelled at by his boss and then had to deal with spoiled Kooks all day long. When he finally got home his dad decided to pick on him, leaving him bruised and with a bloody nose. After storming out of the house he walked straight to the Chateau. The sky was already dark but he had no trouble remembering the way to John B’s - he had been taking the same route since he was a little boy. As he got closer to the house he saw that the lights on the porch were on, indicating that he was still up. However as he reached the top stair to the porch he saw her, sitting on one of the couches, smoking a joint. He couldn’t help the guilt that built in him as he looked at her, he didn’t know she kept coming out there at night. Then he reminded himself that she had been doing this a while before he joined her. Then ditched her.

His former footsteps seemed to catch her attention as she turned towards him. The smile that first rose to her face at the sight of him disappeared as she observed his rough condition. She quickly put her joint on the ashtray that was placed on the coffee table and stood up, a concerned look on her face.

“JJ, what happened? Are you okay?” She asked as she rushed over to him.

As much as he missed her, she was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. He didn’t want her to see him that way - all beaten up by the hands of his father, tears threatening to fall and an anxiety attack just waiting to break through. He was a mess, and the exact opposite of what she wanted, what she deserved.

“It’s nothing, I’m okay.” He brushed her questions off. “Where’s John B?”

“What do you mean you’re okay?” She asked, ignoring his question. “JJ, your nose is all bloody and your face is-“

She cut herself off, taking a deep breath and looking away from his for a second.

“JJ, please, tell me what happened.” She begged, and he could see the tears forming in her eyes. That’s that last thing he wanted.

“Hey, hey.” He said softly, aching to touch her to calm her down but he restrained himself. “I’m okay, really. Just got into a fight.”

She didn’t answer him, all she did was take his hand in hers and examine it. After huffing, she dropped his hand down.

“Your knuckles are fine. And before you tell me you punch with your other hand, I’ve seen you punch.”

He clenched his jaw. Of course she noticed, how wouldn’t she? He was basically living with John B when he had a place of his own, he avoided talking about his home life and now he showed up in the middle of the night sporting one too many bruises. How could she not notice?

“JJ.” She whispered, but he kept his eyes on the floor, holding back the tears. She placed her hands on his face, careful not to touch any bruises along the way. “Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

He finally looked at her, and god did he regret that. The look she had in his eyes almost hurt him physically. It made him want to crawl into her arms and cry like a baby. It made him want to spill everything - to tell her about his father. Instead of doing the latter, he did the former. Without noticing a tear fell down his cheek, and a sob broke through him. With no sign of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him. At first he was shocked, staying still as she hugged his tightly. But then, after letting himself go, he allowed his arms to wrap around her waist and to bring his face to her neck as he let go of his tears.

It was the first time he allowed someone to hold him so soon after seeing his father. It felt good, better than he had expected. He always didn’t want to be touched after an incident with his dad, but something felt different. Instead of flinching away or shutting himself out, he found comfort in the girl’s arms. He found warmness in the smell of her hair and peace in the feeling of her heart beating as she was pressed up against him. He hugged her tight with no intention of ever letting go, he hugged her because she was his solution, his light. She was the only one who could bring lightness into a dark night like this.

“I’m sorry.” He let out, feeling slightly awkward in the hug after he had managed to calm down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She said and shook her head, pulling back just enough for her to see his face. This time, he didn’t shy away from her, just focused on the beautiful features. Goodness, she was beautiful. He though to himself.

“This isn’t your fault, J. None of it. You don’t deserve any of this.”

They were these words that seeped into his mind, feeding his hunger for her. At the moment, he no longer thought of John B, or the fact that she was John B’s girlfriend. All he could think about was how much he wanted to feel her lips against his. He started to slowly lean in, noticing how she didn’t step back or pull away from him. Instead, she brought her hand to his hair and ran her fingers through it before joining their lips.

As soon as he felt her lips on his, he was a goner. He let out a groan at the feeling, pulling her closer to him as he deepened the kiss. It was everything he imagined and more. The mixed feelings of her hands in his hair and on his neck and her lips moving with his gave him a head rush, and he never wanted it to stop. He took initiative and ran his tongue over her lips, a new feeling of excitement washing over him as she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to intertwine with hers. She pulled at his hair, making him groan into her mouth as he moved his hand up to her neck. The kiss didn’t last as long as he hoped for. After the king time he had to restrain himself from kissing her, now that he was, he didn’t want to stop.

She pulled away, her hands staying on his cheeks, thumb wiping the tears that stayed on his face.

“J-“

“Don’t.” He cut her off, Leaning his forehead against hers. “Don’t say anything, please. Just wanna stay like this for a moment.”

To his slight surprise, she didn’t object and closed her eyes. He felt her soft breathing on his face as his fingers played with the ends of her hair. He wished he could stay like this, with her in his arms. He wished he could kiss her again and to hold her again. At that moment, with her so close to him after a shared passionate kiss, he realized he was in love with her. It only made sense; he could not stop thinking about her, and not even in a solely sexual way. He wanted to do so much more than just sleep with her. He wanted to take her out on dates, to hold her hand and to hug her close in his arms. Before he could remind himself that she wasn’t his she pressed her lips to his again. It was a light kiss, unlike their first one, but it had the same effect on him.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, almost as if she didn’t want to say the next words. “But I can’t do this, I’m with John B and I-“

She took a deep breath, a pained expression on her face. He knew what she was gonna say.

“I love him, JJ. I’m sorry.”

It broke his heart, more than he could ever imagine. Hearing her say these words hurt him, because it made all of his suspicions and concerns true. She didn’t love him, she loved his best friend. It shouldn’t surprise him, really, she was in a relationship with him. But it still hurt, the rejection hurt.

“Then why are you touching yourself to me?”

He didn’t mean to say it, he didn’t mean the tone he used. But he was upset, and unfortunately for him, that manifested into anger.

“W-what?” She stuttered, clearly surprised by his question.

“You say you love him but yet you’re moaning my name when you touch yourself. So explain that.” He said and took a step closer to her.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Were you listening to me? Are you stalking me or something?”

“No, I’m just saying that you should think twice before you do something like that in a house that isn’t even yours.” He said, keeping his voice low. “Cause all I had to do was walk into the Chateau and hear you moaning for me.”

“It-it wasn’t-“

“Save it. Just go back to your boyfriend, maybe think of me once or twice when you fuck him.” And with that, he walked off, leaving her standing in the porch. A part of him hoped she would call after him, but she never did. He shouldn’t have expected her to, as she said, she loved John B, not him

#jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #jj may #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #outer banks jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Paradise: Old Army Uniform Style

A late midweek (although I suppose it’s the end of the week now) treat for everyone - finally; my fill for the prompt “Army Elvis”.

pairing: fem!reader x 1964-6 Elvis.

summary: reader walks in on Elvis trying on an old outfit in the midst of his struggles with his body image - she takes the initiative to try and convince him he’s still hot af.

I tried, i really tried. I wrote 156 words for an ‘army elvis’ fic where he’s actually in the army but I spent the whole time thinking nope I hate it I can’t get the words right, I don’t know enough…etc etc. Maybe one day I’ll finish the alternative fic I had started but for now, please enjoy how I managed to fit late 1964-6 Elvis into this prompt.

warnings: 18+, use of the term ‘fat’ as both an adjective and a derogatory term for elvis to describe himself, but briefly and very gently. Insecure Elvis, oral (p receiving).

wc: for how long this took me to get out - an embarrassingly small 3.2k

as always thank you for the help + encouragement to the girlies @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @missmaywemeetagain, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, @powerofelvis

“Fuckin’ hell.” You can hear a clamour from the dressing room off the side of the bedroom when you walk in, clothing strewn about and Elvis swearing. What the hell is he doing.

“El?” You tentatively creep around the doorframe, he’d stormed up here a little while ago, furious about something that had been said to him on the phone during a ‘business meeting’ - shouting that he was “Gettin’ ready to leave - gonna leave y’all here if you ain’t ready when I come down.”

He was meant to be getting ready for the Memphian, like he had been every evening this past week and you’d wondered what was taking him so long since, despite his warning, he’d been up here a while. Of course, you’re in no hurry - the shows don’t start until Elvis turns up whatever time of the night or morning that may be and the boys were happy (and expected) to entertain themselves downstairs until he reappeared.

You round the corner, blinking at the sight in front of you, trying to make sense of the trail of clothing, the mismatch of the fabrics surrounding Elvis in the centre. Your eyes finally manage to focus on him and you wince a little as you see what he’s found. He’s staring at himself in the large mirror, twisting and turning. You try not to draw attention to yourself, yet, wanting to try and decipher his feelings before making yourself known.

You know he’s struggling at the moment - to find the right things to wear. It hasn’t helped his confidence none being shafted by the wardrobe departments. The worst offender being that god-awful brown shirt and pants he has to wear for Hawaiian Paradise; the beige supposedly slimming but everyone seems to be aware it’s having the opposite effect. Any attempt at suggesting a different costume had been put down - arguing that the costuming reflects the character, it’s apparently integral to make it clear he's a pilot. Regardless of the fact that the plot makes it clear Rick has limited professionalism and would, therefore, as a private pilot be unlikely to wear such a thing. It’s worse than that too - you know, Elvis knows, Larry knows, wardrobe knows, hell everyone knows that that outfit, and the way he’s being purposefully shielded from the cameras topless, how even swimming they refuse to film him from the front is all on orders from on high.

Orders that revolve around ‘the state’ of him at the moment, of his ‘hefty weight’ as that one Variety reviewer referred to him. Scarcely could you read a review without some discussion of his recent weight gain or the word ‘pudgy’ being used to describe some part of him. Elvis himself has become a little preoccupied with these comments - he wouldn’t allow them to film him naked from the waist up even if they’d tried in what he felt was his ‘current condition’.

You think - just for a second, looking at him now, that he’s in that uniform although why he’d have brought it home from set and all the way to Tennessee you couldn’t imagine. Before you realise that it was in fact the tan of his summer chino uniform. One of his old army uniforms - perhaps the oldest judging from the badge on his arm. You can see, as he twists and turns in the mirror, tugging at the fabric, that the pants gape at the waist - too tight to zip closed, and the shirt buttons are closed but faintly straining. It’s immediately clear it doesn’t fit. But it’s also clear that it’s not far off, and you dread to think how you would look trying to fit in a dress from five or six years ago - the difference between your very early twenties and being basically thirty seems like quite the jump.

You can see he’s miserable. His hair’s undone and flopping forward - a relief from his recent desire to have it gelled into an unmoving coif - working to hide his face from yours in the mirror, but with every jerking pull of the fabric, accompanied by the swearing spilling out of his mouth, you can tell he’s feeling awful. You repeat yourself from before, interrupting him this time -

“El? You alright?” He stills, glancing up at you in the mirror. There’s a pause that feels longer than it probably is as he makes eye contact before looking away, a flush creeping up his neck.

“‘m fat.” He mumbles it, almost as if not wanting you to hear it, you can’t help but roll your eyes - you appreciate he feels this way but it all feels a bit ridiculous considering you’re looking at him all day every day, and sure there is a difference but hardly to the extent he’s claiming.

“You’re not fat.” He whirls around to look at you properly,

“I am.”

“You’re not. And if you are, god only knows what you’d call me.” You gesture down yourself, he winces - if there’s one thing he’s learnt it’s to never comment on a women’s weight -

“Well it’s, it’s not the same thing at all. It’s different for you - w’men are meant, meant to be soft, ‘m ‘m not. I’ve got,” he gestures to his hips, “handles” You frown, resting your hands in the soft dip of your waist on top of the swell of your own hips.

“So do I.” You flare your fingers out to illustrate your point. He throws his hands in the air, as high as he can with the shirtsleeves too tight on his armpits.

“Don’t know why I bother trying to ‘splain - you ain’t listenin’ to me -“ He sounds it out, “You’re. Meant. To.” You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that he’s just upset and that’s why he’s behaving like a bit of a dick.

“If you weren’t meant to be - You wouldn’t be.” You believe that for him and yourself - wholeheartedly. He huffs,

“Don’t know why I even tried.” He starts angrily unbuttoning the shirt and you wince at his roughness - it might be useless, and it might be impossible to wear but it still feels emblematic of a part of him. “Stupid idea. This is why all ‘m doing is them shitty films. Won’t be getting any Jimmy Dean comparisons lookin’ like this.” He starts to tug at the pants, it would be comical the way he has to attempt to wriggle them off of his, admittedly thick, ass if you couldn’t see the waistband scraping him on the way down, little red marks being left.

“You’re being overdramatic. I promise, babe, no one cares whether you can fit in your old uniform.” He lets out a hollow laugh, sitting on the occasional chair in the corner, shoving the pants to his thighs.

“No honey, they do. That’s what - what the Colonel was ringin’ about, wanted to tell me they won’t be using me as I am now on the albums for the film - gonna use, use some from Acapulco ‘stead.” He can’t get the pants down any further and you have to stifle a laugh - you feel sorry for him, you truly do, but he just looks so ridiculous sat there with his pants bunched around his thighs, shirt open, pouting.

“Babe - I, I don’t know why this bothers you so much - they’re assholes!” He shakes his head, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

“They might be, but they’re right. Soon enough no-one’s gonna want to buy anything from me. I’ll be a fat old man. ‘s just like Germany all over again, ‘m terrified everyone’s gonna move on without me.” He looks affronted when you do laugh at him this time,

“Sweetheart, you’re not anywhere near old yet, and uh, well, you might have put on a little bit of weight, but you’re not out of shape and you’re not - honestly it’s ridiculous I’m having to tell you this. You’re not unattractive.” He sighs at this, like he thinks you’re just placating him, thumping his arm on the chair like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Want me to go grab a couple of the girls from outside?” You giggle, he kicks a foot out. “Bet they’d show you how you still are.” His eyebrows are still pulled together, but you can see his frown relaxing, as if he wants to laugh but still refuses to.

“Or, you just want me to make you feel better? Show you how much I want you still?” He looks you up and down, as if assessing the offer, you smile at him when his eyes linger on your bare thighs for a second. He goes soft for a second, quiet,

“I just thought maybe, maybe I’d fit and-and it would prove that I wasn’t getting all pudgy - hefty. Like they keep puttin’ it.” You don��t know what to say, it’s not altogether untrue - it would just be untrue to say that he doesn’t look good, that the few extra pounds haven’t gone straight to his meaty thighs and stomach making you want to sink your teeth into them, haven’t rounded some of his clean lines to look even better than before; manly, rugged. Even with the hollywood styling.

“What,” You pause, worrying that this is going to be the wrong thing to say, that it will make the spiral worse, “What made you try that particular outfit though?” He huffs again, frown back on his face. Before he seems to come to some sort of decision and sits up, leaning forward,

“I dunno, I just felt real similar to how I did then, and I know I looked good bythe time I was meeting with Sinatra, I was fit and, I don’t know really. I jus’ wanted to be home the whole time I was over there… and now, now I’d do anything to go back.”

“Hmm.” You’re non-committal in your response, you know he wouldn’t like to go back to Germany, back to the army, at all. You remember vividly how homesick he was, how much he hated being away, how miserable he was for those first few months after Gladys’ death. You’re pretty sure he’s just had a bad meeting that’s weighing heavily on him - and that if you can cajole him out the door for a night of fun he’ll be, not fully okay but, at least more balanced or rational about it all by tomorrow. You take a step forward, he’s forced to tilt his chin up to maintain eye contact with you. “I think maybe I just need-ta show you how gorgeous you are?” He frowns, but this time you’re not letting him distract you again, cupping his face in your hands.

You have to bend to meet his lips, and he has to strain up a little, his hands coming up to grip your thighs. It’s like a switch has been turned on. You swear you can feel his pulse through his fingertips, spreading from where he’s gripping your skin, travelling straight up to meet your own heartbeat that’s starting to thump between your legs. By the time your lips even touch you’re openmouthed, practically begging him to lick into you. You kiss him, soundly, controlling the movement in a way he very rarely allows unless he was feeling particularly vulnerable. You can feel in the way he sinks into you that you made the right choice, the way his cheek rests heavy in your palm, the feel of his eyelashes as they flutter against your cheekbones.

“C’mon Sergeant let’s get this off of you,” You tug at his shirtsleeves, pleased when he shrugs the shirt off the rest of the way while still trying to chase your mouth. “Now these.” You push at his trousers, they’d been stuck before, only a hint of the dark thatch of hair appearing just above the open waistband, but with your insistent motion they start to come down further, he lifts his hips to allow for them to come fully off and you can’t help but smile as you’re faced with him in total nakedness. “There now. That’s better.” He looks up at you, from under his lashes, where you’re still hovering over him. “Now. Where was I.” You start to sink down, between his thighs, your hands trailing over his shoulders. He grabs a wrist,

“Don’t - you don’t gotta do this, don’t, don’t want you to pretend none, honey,” You pull your wrist out from his grip, situating yourself firmly on the floor but kneeling up far enough that your head was at chest height. You look up at him,

“I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you. I’m not pretending, I swear baby,” You brush your fingers down his chest, skimming the side of his tummy, poking a little at his waist, he jerks away, ticklish, and you giggle as you can’t help but do it again,

“No-oo! Honey, no, not,” He’s laughing himself now, unable to stop as you jab your fingers into the soft sides of him, “Not there, stop!” You ease off, stroking where you’d been prodding, at the faint flush of red from the rough contact.

“I love this.” You prod him a final time for good measure, leaning in to kiss the fat on the side. “Love this, my perfect man.”

“Don’t -“ He flinches, turning his head away from you again, tucking it into his neck.

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t tell you that I like the look of you any which way? Don’t tell you that I think anyone who says otherwise must be blind. Don’t show you,” You let your hands continue their journey down brushing over his hips, over the dimples just below before coming to rest on his thighs. “How much I love how you look?” You look up at him, sinking back onto your heels, “Let me show you Elvie baby, let me show you how much I love all of you.” You make eye contact, waiting for him to nod, before turning your full attention to what had really brought you to your knees.

He’s still only half-hard, and you pause, looking at him considering for a moment. “Watch me baby.” You take your hand under your dress, pushing into through the leg band of your panties, gathering some of the growing slick wetness onto your fingers, just enough for them to be a little slippery. You pull them out, watching Elvis track you with burning eyes, never moving from your fingers. You reach up to gently grasp his cock, your slick providing just enough lubrication. It jumps when you touch it, and he throws his head back as you move your hand gently but firmly, playing with him until he’s fully chubbed up. Only then do you remove your sticky hand, resting it on his thigh. You look up at him, determined to keep eye contact as he turns back to face you. You sink forward, lapping at his head, little kitten licks as you allow yourself to fall into the blue of his eyes. His hands are staying on the arms of the chair, as if he can tell you’re in charge right now even without you having to say it. You feel his thighs clench after a moment, and you take that as invitation to sink down properly.

The warm wet heat of your mouth causes him to swear violently, and when you glance down at his lips they’re open, parting as he pants a little. You push yourself on, taking him as deeply as you possibly could before pulling back and sinking back down. He can’t seem to still his hips completely moving then back and forth forcing you to chase him back down - to have to try to ensure he doesn’t slip all the way out. You start to pull out all of the tricks, your spare hand coming up to stroke his balls, a gentle encouragement of sorts, while you begin to hum any tune that comes into your mind, causing his hips to circle, a “Goddamn baby.” to spill out of his mouth and his hand to come to rest on your head. You open your throat, pushing all the way onto him, forcing you to break eye contact with how your nose bumps his famous pelvis once he’s fully situated. He’s making little breathy whines and moans as you rock your throat back and forth on him, swallowing occasionally to clear your mouth of his precum and because every time you do you can feel him twitch. You pull all the way off, circling his head with your tongue on the way, he whines as you do, a bereft noise, while you take a few deep, gulping, breaths.

You watch how Little Elvis is left rosy and standing at attention, how when you exhale he twitches from the force of your blow. You capture him in your mouth again, returning to the task at hand. It’s not long, with you using every trick of your tongue that you have, before his grip tightens on your head, hand fisting in your hair. You swallow, and he moves your head himself once, twice, before his hips stutter and he spills down your throat. You glance back up at him, peering past his tummy as best you could, watching his face contort as he grunts out an “Oh f-f-fuck.” His pouty lips parted, eyes shut. You pull back, licking his tip clean, before pressing a kiss to his thigh.

“That make you feel any better?” He smiles as he opens his eyes and you get to see the sparkle in them again.

“God, Jesus. How’re you so good at that.” You shrug, kneeling back,

“God-given talent for me to use on pretty men I guess.” He chuckles, stroking a finger down your face, this time he’s the one cupping your chin.

“`Thank you darlin’. You’re gorgeous baby.” You tilt your head as if conceding, lifting up a finger to poke him again.

“Even so, regardless of all of this, it’s whats on the inside that counts.” You mean it earnestly but he looks back at you, a glint in his eye as he traces a finger over your lips,

“Certainly is doll. What’s inside that counts.” He winks, and you gulp almost choking on your own spit in surprise at his double entendre. He grins, standing up to grab the pants on the back of the chair, finally actually getting ready to go out. You sit back on your heels content to simply watch him go about his routine.

You giggle a little, watching him tuck his shirt into his pants. A thought pops into your head - one that you’re not willing to say out loud and spoil his newfound good mood, remind him of his status that should, somehow, ease the human insecurities he feels, you know he’d hate it. But you can’t stop yourself from thinking it; I can’t believe I’ve just had to spend half an hour telling Elvis Presley he’s a stud still.

#elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #be-my-ally #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #writing prompt game

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