#i removed the e y’all

[gingerjolover]

she had a makeover!

#new pfp #i removed the e y’all #gingerjolover now :)

[chrollohearttags]

UNDER THE INFLUENCE | e. jaeger

content + themes: our fav sluts being sluts, spit play, drunk sex, possessive eren, makeup sex if you squint, very vocal eren, he’s kinda a switch, oral sex, mentions of pregnancy/breeding, foot play, lots of praise, dirty talk, squirting, (daddy, princess, baby used) overstimulation..I mean, the ask says it all…there’s so much more though.

📝: shoutouts to you, anon. 🤞🏾🤍 (couldn’t find this in my inbox but I surely screenshotted it a while ago and decided to circle back!). Consider this my consolation for putting y’all through it. 😁

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

addiction. A word with negative connotations almost every time it was uttered. A word that signified the need, the craving and desire for one thing..for some, it was drugs. For others, it was alcohol and for EJ? It was you… “Mmph!—okayyy, Eren! Baby, please…at least let us get through the door.”

“Nah…need you so bad right now. ‘Don’t know what to do..” although, he wouldn’t exactly consider it a bad thing! After all, you drew him in and he never wanted you to release the grip that was your love. But just as it was with any vice, when someone faces withdrawals, their next hit was going to be the best one. And for Eren, he was determined to get his fill! Making your way back to the hotel room where you had been residing during you guys’ stay in Los Angeles. It wasn’t a city that either of you visited often but you had gotten quite the opportunity to work with a large brand and wasn’t about to turn it down for anything. Of course, your doting husband was right by your side. Which came as a surprise to those who were on social media, feeding into the never ending rumor mill that swore you guys were splitting up. Allegations of cheating, fighting…it had caused quite the rift between you two but now, he was planning to rectify any mistakes or confusion..

“C’mon, mama..don’t hold it from me right now. Lemme eat that pussy.” Pleading in a whiny huff, he’d steady you against the wall, hands scouring your frame as he peeled those articles of clothing away from your body. Sliding that silk dress down far enough to expose your perfect tits. His lips, fresh with the scent of liquor still on them. A result of the copious amounts he had been drinking all night. Once your appearance was over, a lively after party was hosted at a nightclub and you both indulged in the amenities offered..him a lot more than you! Hennessy, Ace of Spades and vodka, he had been mixing it all and with that combination coursing his veins, he was much more lecherous than usual. He’d suckle on those erect nipples, sloppily lapping at those brown buds as he groped your breasts. Meanwhile, he was rolling the hem of your dress up and propping one of those toned legs on his shoulder. He was ravenous..craving you with all he had and was going to show you just how much! “Take it!..yes, baby—“ a finger slid between your teeth as you observed him sinking to his knees and spreading you open. “Imma fuck the shit ‘out you, I swear..” That heat was slathered in glistening slick; only partially covered by that lacy garment. He didn’t even bother to remove them when he began his rapid ascent into your juicy cunt. “You can have all this dick…just lemme taste you first, baby..” Slurping loudly with that swollen clit puckered between his lips. Nose brushing against your covered mound; folds making contact with his tongue, especially when your fingers were coiled around his thick, dark locks. Grinding your slit against his face. And he’d devour it..in his drunken haze, Eren smacked, sucked and licked at your sex vigorously. Not worried about the mess trickling down to his chin or diamond chain. Even when you shook violently from your first orgasm. He wanted all that you had..

“Put that shit in my face, mama. Use me..you deserve it.” Continuing his feasting assault. He was enjoying touching, kissing and peppering your most sensitive areas with affection. “Y’know how much I missed you? Missed kissing on this pretty pussy…” He couldn’t help himself, truly. Watching you strut about in that dress, dance and shake your ass with a drink in hand…it drove him crazy so when he got behind closed doors, you were all his. So much so, he’d become as freaky and fluid with you as he desired…. “Matter of fact…spit in my fucking mouth. Lemme taste that shit.” Lobbing a long string down to his lips where he’d graciously swallow and continue devouring you. Squeezing at your breasts, (y/n) rolled your hips and rode his face with all you had. “Oh God, it feels so good!—eating this shit so good, baby..” He’d slap and spank your ass, squeezing those plump cheeks..getting more than his fill of his beautiful wife. In a moment of haste, he’d rise from his knees and cradle you in one fell swoop. Sweeping you from your feet to carry you over to the bed, where he’d toss you to finish stripping you from your clothes and eventually, doing the same of his own.

“Eren…”

“Yeah, princess? Tell me what you need..tell me everything you want..”

huffing as he tore off his shirt and unbuckled his pants..whilst he did so, he’d watch you spread your legs slightly; revealing that line of slick he had drawn up. He couldn’t wait to sink his cock in between those fat pussy lips..feel that tight warmth once again and reclaim your body as his own. Whilst he’d do so, you were rubbing and massaging your clit; curling your legs up in the air..

“..Need you to fuck me..want that dick so bad…”

whilst listening to your demands, he’d stroke himself from the base to the tip, getting his already stiff hard on even more erect. Chewing at his lower lip as he watched you toy with that plump cunt. It looked so good, he put in his mind right then and there that he may never pull out. You were going to be stuffed full of his cum.

“Then open them legs, baby..hold ‘em open..” traipsing straight up to you; placing a knee in the center of the bed as you spread yourself to his desire. That slit was overflowing with arousal and waiting for him to sink his cock in between those walls. You were already pulsating, recollecting the last time he had truly made love to you. With his entire being…fucking you slowly and relentlessly until you screamed out his name. Clawing your nails into his back until sharp red marks were left and every last droplet of his nut was housed inside of you after emptying those giant balls of his. You needed it and he craved you all the same. So without another moment of hesitation, after tapping himself against you..he’d glide right in.

“Oh my—fuuuck, baby. You feel so good. That pussy’s so tight..”

howling out as if it were the first time all over again. Regardless of how many times he took claim of you, the ever so familiar clutch and grip of your hole remained. Almost as if it were perfectly designed for him. He didn’t waste another second in trying to adjust or acclimate but rather, feeding you rhythmic, fluid strokes. Clawing a hand through his chocolate locks, Eren honed in on you and ensured that you felt every single thrust. “..goddamn…look at that shit. She’s creaming on me…you missed me too, baby? You missed daddy?” Cooing to both you and your needy cunt..referring to the milky sheath dripping all down shaft and balls. “Yes, daddy! Fuck!…I missed you so much. Missed the way you fucked me…” Although he was still gaining his stride, it took no time for your bodies to become reconnected. Housing him like that of a glove after each stroke. Regardless of his lack of sobriety, he was love drunk on you any day of the week and that would never change. With your quivering legs resting on his shoulders, he’d grab and position your foot to the center of his chest and kept a hold onto it. Suddenly, his lips would make home on the instep and ankle, ravaging it with soft and tender kisses. By then, his pace had begun to speed up and his opposite hand was circulating near your clit; massaging the sensitive bud with his thumb pad. Once he heard your response, he’d started to throb inside of you, loving how desperate you were for him..time and distance regardless.

“I know, princess…I’m so sorry I was away from you..” just then, you’d feel the sensation of your white painted toes gliding in and out of his mouth. Suckling and licking on them as faint growls arose from his throat. He was like a man unhinged, needing and craving you carnally. “That’s okay..because I swear imma make it up to you…” vowing through heavy pants as the feeling of you wrapped around his member had begun to take its toll. “Imma make you come until you can’t anymore. I’m yours..all night. Use me to get that nut. As many as you want..” That fat mushroom tip had swollen to its capacity..seeping precum as it pecked the inner corner of your cervix. Because of it, you had begun to emit splashes of squirt. “Fuuuck yes! Right there…right there, you’re stretching this fucking pussy, baby.” He’d slow down as not too catch them all at once because he wanted to take his time enjoying the onslaught of it. You had never heard him so vocal and primal, taking his time to ensure that your body was well and satisfied. Still thrashing around inside of you, Eren left one final kiss on your foot before bending those legs back behind your head; folding you into that of a quintessential pretzel shape. Either way, each movement of his thick cock was visible..down to the bulge in the lower part of your belly.

“..Nngh! ‘S too much, daddy! Need you take some out..”

whimpering for him with your fingers pawing at his abs, tapping because not even he realized how deep he was in it. Buried to the base with balls smacking your asshole. The bed was rattling around and the headboard slamming against the walls of the suite. Luckily, you had no guests nearby..otherwise, they were in for an earful. But that was neither of your concern. Even so, he couldn’t grant your request until you did something in return for him. Halting, he’d allow that dick to rest idly inside of you as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, working them in and out. “You gone squirt for me, mama? Nut all over this dick?” And naturally, he’d received a prompt nod back. He seemed satisfied with your answer so he’d slowly ease that throbbing cock out; a stream of his cum absentmindedly spraying across your torso and as promised, you’d spray his entire abdomen and cock up with those sweet, warm juices. He was pleased with the little display of waterworks, regardless of your whimpers. “There we go…good girl.” Praising you as you pushed out more of that nectar. Your legs were left in a trembling mess but he gave you no time to recover..

“Save some f’r me..” chuckling as he lowered his head and lapped up every drop of it, even latching into your clit despite the sensitivity. He was insatiable and hungrier for you, now more than ever! With your entire body left in shambles, he’d work his way back up from your thighs to your neck with that trailing tongue..wrapping a hand around your throat as he whispered into your ear. “I love you, fuck I swear..I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that..” whilst doing so..lingering on his every word, he’d ease himself back inside and resume his movements. Each one felt so much better than the last and you were hooked, on his every word and embrace. “I love you too, ‘Ren! I love you too..please, don’t stop..” He truly meant it and you never doubted for a second, even if that liquor was making the feelings more intense. He was yours and nothing could keep you two apart ever again. Peppering your temple with kisses, he’d persist and pound your core until you were leaking yet again. Almost without missing a beat, he’d spout a small loud into your womb and continued going..

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m not going nowhere…I’m right here wit’ you. You opening up so good f’r me…gonna make me give you all this nut..you want it? Want me to get you pregnant tonight?”

questioning in a high pitched coo as he were reaching his second peak so soon. Running on what seemed to be fumes but he had far more in the tank. You were throbbing; smiling with a fucked out expression on your face at the thought of him breeding you. Whatever he wanted to do…you were more than happy to go along with. As long as he kept making love to you like this.

“Please..come in me. Come in this pussy…it’s yours, always been yours..”

Glaring into his eye and encouraging that cum out of him. Low and behold, it didn’t take long before that he’d halt yet again and release not only a loud, ear shattering moan but a warm load as well. Right in the depth of your womb. Your nails dragged into his back, signifying just how good he was making you feel. But this was only the beginning of your drunken..steamy stupor. The best was yet to come!..

“Fuck..need you to take more of that, baby..need you to empty me.”

#aot x black reader #musician x influencer au #eren x black fem!reader #black reader smut #eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot au #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan au #black fem reader #black reader #black fanfiction #eren yeager #cherry’s asks 🍒 #anon ask #snk smut #snk au #snk x black reader #eren headcanons #eren drabble #eren jaeger headcanons #eren jaeger imagines #cw smut #cw alcohol #cw breeding

[lessbienlesbian]

mizu x fem!reader nsfw a-z relationship headcanons

i’m sorry this took so long for me to write, but i hope y’all enjoy!

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

after both you and mizu have reached your peak, she is honestly quite clingy, although she would never admit this to anyone else. she would hold you protectively and press gentle kisses to your forehead and hairline, all while whispering about how well you did and asking if she can get you anything.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

mizu loves her hands. she loves what they look like, how they feel, and most importantly what she can do with them. she is proud of the calluses that cover them and she is proud of the skill and nimbleness with which she can use her sword and make you come undone. her favorite part of your body is your eyes, more specifically the fact that she can look into them and see so clearly that your intentions and love for her are genuine.

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

mizu loves to eat you out. she genuinely thinks that you taste so good, and will bury her face in your pussy until your juices are dripping down her chin as she looks up at you with that stupid adorable cocky smirk. sometimes she will even hold a glistening finger up to the light for you to see.

“look at this baby, is this all for me?”

“god, you smell so good. stay still sweetheart, let me taste you.”

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory)

honestly, mizu’s dirty secret is just how horny and absolutely whipped she is for you. she’s got it so bad and she would do absolutely anything for you. i know that’s not really dirty per say, but she’s pretty open about most other things.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

mizu is not very experienced at all. her only partner before you was mikio, and the sex she had with him was pleasing to her but not particularly outstanding. it also didn’t involve much action or movement on her part, so she would have a lot to learn when first being intimate with you. however, mizu is a very quick and eager learner. it is almost frustrating how naturally good she is at knowing how to touch you in just the right way.

f = favorite position 

mizu is a fan of any position where she gets to be as close to you as possible. she really values the closeness and physical intimacy that goes along with having sex. bonus points if she can easily hide her face because she gets hella shy. 

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

mizu can actually be pretty lighthearted in the moment. i wouldn’t go as far as calling her humorous, but the playful and teasing side to her personality is definitely present. she also enjoys a playful “fight” for dominance at times, she just can’t help it with her competitive nature. 

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

mizu has very dark brown pubic hair that matches the hair on her head. she has a full bush and doesn’t do anything along the lines of hair removal.

i = intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment)

oh dear god mizu is so romantic. she’ll hold your hand while you fuck her, make eye contact for as long as she can, and whisper sweet nothings and intimate confessions into your ear. like by day mizu is slicing people up on the hunt to kill her potential father, and by night she’s blushing and trying to hide her face while you gently kiss her cute little pink nose. like damn, get you a girl that can do both.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

it is my personal opinion that mizu does not masturbate outside of a brief period of self discovery as an adolescent and then maybe after getting together with you if the two of you are separated for a lengthy period for whatever reason.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

i am a firm believer that mizu is very into praise, both when it comes to you and her. she LOVES to be told that she’s doing a good job and that she’s pretty because let’s face it, this girl does not hear that kinda shit very often (or at all). god she’s just so cute, shyly hiding her face in your shoulder so you can’t see how much she is blushing, biting her lip to silence the small whimpers she’s letting out, tentatively reaching over to interlace her fingers with yours. and those shy little “shut ups” mumbled in your ear are just the icing on the cake.

l = location (favorite places to do the deed)

mizu doesn’t really have a preferred location. as long as the two of you are safe and not in the view of other people, she’s good to go. 

m = motivation (what turns them on)

she gets very turned on when/if the two of you spar together. the combination of competition, physical closeness, and playfulness just does it for her.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i’ll just list some off. blood, bondage (her receiving), intense degradation, exhibitionism, cnc, threesomes, intense humiliation, and breeding kink (i’ll explain this one at the end of this section). basically, she is pretty opposed to anything that makes her feel unsafe or like she doesn’t have control over what’s happening to her. that is not to say that she would be unwilling to submit if she really trusted you, she just greatly fears being taken advantage of. okay now to explain the breeding kink. i know this may be an unpopular opinion and while i do think our girl has MAD strap game, i do not think she would be into the idea of breeding. at her core, mizu feels resentment towards those who conceived her because of her hatred for and the stigma towards being mixed race. it is because of this that i believe that anything suggesting the idea of creating more people like her (even if it couldn’t actually happen) would be a major mood killer.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

mizu can be a bit sloppy when she eats you out, but she definitely prefers to give. her lack of experience combined with her tendency to just get fully pussy drunk leads to her eagerly lapping up your cum for as long as you’ll let her.

“mizu please” you groan with your hands tangled in her hair. “my clit, i need you on my clit”

p = pace

the pace at which you have sex with mizu really depends on how much time you have on your hands. she prefers to take her time with you, spending as long as possible worshipping every inch of your body. if mizu is feeling frustrated or stressed, her pace becomes more frantic and desperate as she seeks her and your release.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

if necessary, mizu will have a quickie with you, but she much prefers proper sex. realistically though, quickies are often all that there is time/proper security for, so she makes the best of the circumstances.

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

honestly, after everything that she has been through, mizu is not a risk taker when it comes to her sex life. she would be pretty vanilla when it comes to physical safety.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

when mizu is on top she can go for a very long time. she takes pride in how good she can make you feel; teasing you, edging you, and making you cum over and over until you’re a quivering mess beneath her. however, she is a different story entirely. despite her incredible physical strength and stamina, mizu is so incredibly sensitive and it does not take very much stimulation or very long for her to cum.

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

mizu does not own any toys when you first meet her, as pleasure was not necessarily a priority. however, if you suggest it to her, she would DEFINITELY be open to using a harigata (dildo/strap on) and maybe even a tagaigata (double sided dildo). wearing a strap would boost her confidence an insane amount, and she’d take great pride in how well she can fuck you.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

mizu loves to tease you but is not a fan of being teased. she relishes in the way that you squirm beneath her and beg for more as that cocky little grin spreads over her smug face. but when it comes to her pleasure, as much as she is embarrassed to admit it, mizu is quite desperate and impatient.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

as evidenced by that one scene with mikio, mizu is actually pretty loud. her voice is high, feminine, and desperate. when she is trying her best to be quiet, she will express her pleasure through whimpers, gasps, and soft whispers. when volume is not a concern, the room will be flooded with loud moans and cries.

w = wild card (a random headcanon)

i think that mizu has incredibly sensitive nipples and if she let you touch them for long enough, she could cum from nipple stimulation alone. the first time this happens she is absolutely mortified, but you reassure her that it is perfectly alright.

“w-wait, y/n!” mizu whimpers, her back arching in desperation. her slender body writhes under your unrelenting touch, small gasps leaving her lips as you tug on her aching nipples.

x = x-ray

mizu is slender, toned, and lean. she is incredibly muscular and slim because of the intensity with which she trains and she is about 5’6 or 5’7. she has firm a-cup breasts with average sized pink nipples, but they are typically hidden under the fabric she uses to bind her chest. her pussy is an innie, and unless her legs are fully spread, you can only see her outer lips. when she opens herself up to you, her small clit is hidden beneath its dusky pink hood. her glistening hole is tight and small, and much to her chagrin, clenches and flutters desperately at even the slightest bit of stimulation. the poor girl is just so sensitive and needy.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

as much as she hates to admit it, mizu has a very high sex drive. she gets turned on super easily, especially when it comes to anything involving you. you could literally brush your fingertips against her hip and she would become a flustered mess.

z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

mizu can fall asleep pretty quickly, but she prefers to stay awake until you are asleep. if you catch onto this habit and decide to question her about it, she will deny it. watching over you to make sure that your sleep is restful and you are under her protection for as long as possible doesn’t exactly fit her image in the beginning. then, by the time you’ve gotten to see her softer side, she will deny it more for your sake. she doesn’t want you to know how much she worries about you for fear of teasing, being a smothering presence, and being admonished for sacrificing her own basic needs to make sure that yours are met. as much as mizu fronts as a combative, snarky, and abrasive person, she is also deathly afraid of conflict and abandonment with/from those she truly loves and cares about. that is to say, she wouldn’t want to get into an argument with you about how she needs to take care of herself better. she prefers to close her eyes and just listen to your breathing as it slowly evens out, leaving you unaware of her ploy. unbeknownst to her, you are aware of this “secret” scheme, and you let her get away with it. after all, it’s just another way that she tells you that she loves you, without expecting anything in return.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu #mizu x you #bes mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #mizu smut #mizu x y/n

[milesmolasses]

SKATER BOI (e-1610 miles x blk! reader)

— miles is a skater boy and u can’t tell me i’m wrong

— felt bad cause the beach fic was supposed to be up today, but instead y’all can have this

— alexa, play feels like summer by childish gambino

— ⚠️: fluff, gn black reader, miles + reader being cute, cursing

standing outside of your door, miles stood with his duffel bag over his right shoulder, and his board wedged between his right arm and torso. ever since you agreed to skate with him, even going as far as to buy your own board, he wanted to surprise you with a little date/gift he had prepared.

you opened your door to the sight of a bubbly presence and a big smile on miles face. "whatchu smiling for?" you questioned with a confused smile on your face.

"get ready, i’m taking you out. oh, and grab your board too," he stated quite matter of factly. before you could even open your mouth, he was already booking it towards the stairs to wait for you at the front of your building.

"damn… now I don’t gotta choice," you mumbled to yourself in the now empty hallway.

closing the door to your house, you changed into more appropriate clothing than the ones you had on now. that clothing consisted of a pair of baggy jeans and an even baggier t-shirt, as well as a beanie to keep your locs from flying into your face. grabbing your board along with the wallet you stuffed in your jeans, you were off downstairs to meet miles.

walking out of the building and on to the street, you turned to look at miles and asked, "so you gonna tell me what’s in the bag?"

rolling his eyes he told you that telling you what was in the bag would ruin the surprise, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

miles had a tendency for surprising you with little things. it wasn’t like he was loaded, but he figured that the little things he gave you were much more personal and meaningful than any expensive gift he could have ever given you; like his art. small photos of you along with other drawings were plastered all over your wall, curtesy of your boyfriend.

after about fifteen minutes of walking, you reached the skate park. you were met with a bunch of brooklyn kids from around your neighborhood either smoking weed, hanging out and skating with their friends, or both simultaneously.

following miles to a set of stairs with a bunch of skid marks on the rail, he set down his bag and his board and motioned for you to hand him yours.

"c’mon it’s part of the surprise," he laughed as he shook his hand out asking for the skate board.

giving him the board, you watched as he set it down wheels facing up, and he opened the duffel bag he brought with him. "of course," you thought.

in the bag was a solar system of different spray paints and paint markers to choose from. you should have known that this would be something miles would do. "you wanna paint my board?"

"I mean, kinda?" he flipped his board so the wheels were facing up alongside with mine. what you didn’t expect was a clean slate. miles board wasn’t painted like it was before, no, this was an entirely new, clean skate board.

"I want to paint your board, while you paint mine," he stated looking up at you and smiling.

"you bought a clean board for me?" you said in a high pitch voice in disbelief.

"don’t flatter yourself now, if it turns out trash i’m goin' back to the old one," he joked. you knew he was joking— miles was in love with everything you made, it was all beautiful to him.

your knees bent down next to miles, squatting with him on the concrete. you grabbed his board and rolled your eyes at his previous statement.

grabbing the screw driver, miles removed the trucks on both of your boards in preparation of painting. once he was finished, you got to work with grabbing the board and going to the other end of the stairs. when he asked why you were "leaving him all lonely" you simply replied with, "you seeing my work of art would ruin the surprise, duh.”

you grabbed the few colors you wanted to use on the board and went back to your side of the stairs. getting to work with spray painting his entire board light green, an image flooded your mind on what you wanted to do with his board.

after thirty minutes (give or take) of working, miles glanced to your side and spoke loudly, "yo, you almost done over there?"

"uh nooo— wait are you already done??" you questioned in disbelief, seeing miles dust himself off and stand up.

"yeah, all I gotta do is shine it," he shrugged his shoulder back and stretched out his arms. you sighed in disbelief at how quickly he was able to finish his freestyle painting. you could practically hear him saying, "i’m just that good" with a goofy smug look in his face.

turning back to your- or his board, you were able to get it done about 10 minutes after miles had finished spraying a clear coat on your board.

adding some finishing touches, his board was finally done. you walked back over to miles with the board flesh behind your back, with the painted side facing away from miles view.

"you ready to see my masterpiece morales?"

"your masterpiece huh?" he questioned feigning an impressed look on his face.

"mmhm, i’m pretty sure I seen this in a renaissance painting before," you said with a nonchalant shrug. miles raised an eyebrow at you.

“sooo you copied a renaissance paining?”

"nah," you whispered, leaning in closer to miles to tell him your big secret. "them renaissance niggas copied me," you said proudly pointing to your chest.

miles rolled his eyes as he backed away from you. “shut the hell up and show me the board,” he laughed.

you huffed as you brought the board into his view from behind your back. it was spray painted light green as it’s base, and what decorated the shade was a large yellow sunflower with the word "MILES" painted dark green and growing out of the sunflower like a stem. surrounding the sun flower were doodles of even more multi colored flowers and hearts.

miles nose flared as he laughed through this nose. he couldn’t help the loving smile that creeped onto his lips as he walked closer to you and grabbed the board out of your hands. he placed a chaste kiss to you lips as he mumbled, "I love it baby, thank you."

you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, placing kisses all over his face. you pulled back suddenly and asked, "hmm so where’s MY board morales?"

"don’t worry I gotchu," he said as he pulled away. he walked a couple steps backwards and grabbed the board showing you the absolute masterpiece he made with nothing but his hands and his amazing brain.

it was a horizontal painting of you facing a wall, and on that wall was a collection of graffiti you had painted across brooklyn with miles throughout the years you knew each other. it looked like water color art with the way all of the light colors dripped down together at the bottom of the board.

"okay… so maybe I am a little blown away," you admitted as you looked at the board shocked. turning your head to look at miles, you gently placed the board down on the ground and you ran up to miles with the biggest smile on your face.

you basically threw yourself at him as you buried your face into his neck, mumbling a small "thank you" and "I love you."

as he squeezed you back, he mumbled into your beanie with a smirk, “so am I the best boyfriend ever or what?”

— made this super quick

— bought a skateboard last summer and barely used it

— but TRUST, this year it will be in use

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman miles morales #earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x gn reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spider verse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles g #prowler miles #earth42 miles #e 42 miles x reader #42 miles morales #miles g x reader #e-42 miles x reader

[whiskeynwriting]

The Babymoon

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Brief mention of reader’s hair (Jack just brushing it aside), established relationship/marriage, pregnant reader, dirty talk, aggressively passionate Jack (I’m W E T), degradation/teasing, breeding kink, daddy kink (ofc), spit kink, rough sex, choking, biting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, and some fluffies

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A/N: I apologize for the late post but ya girl has the stomach flu y’all 

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Daddycember ‘23 Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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Every small grunt forces a ping of guilt through your husband’s gut, both hands working tirelessly to relieve your pain. Truly, he didn’t know the walk would be so rigorous for you, but he should’ve known, should’ve researched more before coming out. But he does his best to make the situation better; he carried all of the bags, both yours and his, set them down in their appropriate rooms and then rushed back to tend to you. Jack led you over to the couch, letting you lay out while he removed your socks and shoes.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” He mumbled, removing his hat while kneeling down. “Didn’t realize it was such a long hike.”

“It’s okay.” Came your sigh of reassurance, head tilted back. “It was worth it.”

And that made him incredibly happy, forcing that handsome smile right across his face. What you said was true, too, coming here was definitely worth it. With Jack’s busy work schedule, and you constantly prepping for the baby, the two of you needed a break, especially before your newborn gets here. And that’s exactly what this trip was intended for. Some time away to relax, reset, and enjoy each other’s presence. 

Jack’s lips find their way to your ankles and calves, fingers massaging your sore feet. He didn’t mind doing this for you, did it almost every night, in fact. It became routine for him quite quickly; he could never not care for you. But thankfully, most of the more aggressive symptoms have subsided alongside the beginning of your third trimester. No more intense nausea or bloating, no more awful heartburn. The worst of your troubles have been general muscle aches and pelvic pain, but you’d take that over vomit any day.

“I can feel him kicking.” A sudden laugh comes from your throat, both hands falling to your belly. 

Jack grins, reaching up with one of his own hands. “He’s a wild one, in there.” 

“You… you think it’ll really change?” All Jack does is look up with confused concern. “Our lives, the way we are, when he comes.” 

His casual shrug serves as minimal reassurance. Glancing back down at your feet, Jack clears his throat. “Sure it will, babycakes. But not in a bad way.”

“How do you know it won’t be in a bad way?”

“Because I won't let it be that way.” Chocolate eyes meet yours once again, full of warmth and kindness. “Don’t worry so much, honey. We’re on vacation.” And with that, he’s standing, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Let me go make you a drink.” 

And in this brief lull, you let out a relaxed breath, feeling at ease in Jack’s care. He’d always been such an attentive man, an attentive partner, able to identify and tend to your wants and needs before you even knew what they were. Being observant was in his nature, and branched into every area of his life, even now. 

“Here you go, sugar.” Handing you the drink with a smile on his face, Jack turns toward the fireplace, taking it upon himself to light it. 

It’s easy to admire him, not only for his incredibly handsome features, but for his wonderfully doting personality. He takes care of you, in every sense of the word. You’ve never felt safe before, like you do with him. 

Although the walk up to the cabin was laborious, he’s still glad he chose it. Perfectly secluded and quiet, up in the Kentucky mountains. The entire estate is surrounded by woodland brush and gentle creatures, deers and rabbits and birds. The surrounding peace is everything the two of you have been craving, a place to relax and reconnect. Your travels happened later in the evening, though, the night sky already beginning to grow. And with the stars peeking out from behind the clouds, and Jack lighting the fireplace, the entire situation seemed all too familiar. 

“You know…” Looking over at Jack, he stands, briefly clapping the dust from his hands. “This kind of reminds me of our honeymoon.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, flashing you that dazzling grin. And then he shrugs, walking over to you. “That was kinda the point.” 

Romantic, warm, and beautiful, qualities that mirror both your relationship and post-wedding vacation. It still makes you grin, still makes butterflies erupt inside your belly that Jack is willing to do all of this for you. 

“Wanna spoil you, angel.” Jack then hums, brushing aside some hair so he can get to your neck. And then he’s placing a single, sweet kiss, smiling. “How’re you feelin’, hm? Sore? Anything I can do?” 

The mention of your honeymoon has his insides stirring, his mischievous nature growing. Alongside these playful emotions comes the presence of Jack’s hand on your thigh, warm even through the material of your pants. He rubs you firmly, giving the plush fat of your legs a slow squeeze. 

Spoiling you is genuinely Jack’s pleasure, and he does it because he loves you; and this trait grew tenfold when you decided to carry his baby. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use these situations for his own satisfaction, too. Watching your body grow makes his entire body run hot, your soft and squishy thighs, your round belly and perfectly plump backside. And Jesus Christ, your tits, he never thought they could get any more enticing before you got pregnant. But now? So swollen with your nipples all sensitive and red… he can’t keep himself away. He just can’t, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to on your private getaway. 

The slightest, most timid smirk forms on your face, eyes choosing to look away. “Well… you already took care of my feet.” Something in you says that Jack is looking for an excuse, for any simple reason to touch your body, massage it and just feel every inch of it that he can.

“Yeah?” He responds, chestnut orbs traveling down your figure. “What about your legs?”

“They’re fine, not too sore.” Shrugging, you do your best to suppress your laugh. Sometimes, teasing Jack was fun. 

Raising a brow, he then asks, “Your hips? Stomach?” Now, he’s running his palm over your swollen belly, chest inhaling a deep breath. Nothing about pregnancy turned him on before, not until he saw you carrying his child. Who knew Jack Daniels had a breeding kink? 

“Nope.” Finally turning to face him, you smile innocently. “I’m okay, baby.” 

The look on your face is kind and calm, but the twinkle in your eye tells him you’re only playing. And his own expression is growing stern, contemplating his next move. 

“You don’t seem to get it, do you?” 

“Get what?”

And in one quick motion, Jack’s hand rises to grab harshly at your chest, squeezing one breast in hand. It makes you gasp, makes your body jump with surprise. 

“Daddy wants to touch you, sugar.” In an instant, he’s closer, breathing heavier against you. “Daddy wants to touch your sweet body and watch you fall apart in his arms.” 

With an exasperated sigh, he’s then falling to your neck, sucking on it with wet lips. His sudden advance has your jaw dropping, lips curling up at the ends. Keeping his hand on your chest, his fingers press into your skin, massaging your tit before collecting his fingers so he can toy with your nipple.

“Jack,” Comes your simple sigh, head falling back.

“I know,” He says, mouthing at your neck. “It feels so good for you, honey.”

His mouth moves to your jawline, licking it, nipping at it, while brushing his thumb across the point of your breast. Even the slightest bit of friction made them hard, whether it be a small breeze or the soft fabric of your shirt. They’d never been more sensitive, and Jack had never been more interested. 

“You know I wanna touch you,” Jack mumbles over your skin, hand dropping to your legs. “Fuckin’ tease.” 

Cupping you between your thighs pulls a full moan from your throat, head lifting just in time to see him lean into your chest. Jack buries his face into you, right between your smooth mounds while his tongue dips into your cleavage. 

“Oh, god, I want this, sugar.” Though, you can barely hear him with his face stuffed between your tits. Lifting both hands, you encourage him, holding him there by the back of his head. 

“Daddy,” Two fingers rub firm circles over your covered center, your husband groaning quietly when you grab onto his hair. 

“Let me do this, baby doll.” 

Nodding rapidly, you gulp. “Okay, daddy. Okay…” 

Moving away from you with a swift inhale, Jack lifts himself from your body. Already, his pupils are blown, his pants tented firmly against your thigh. And for a brief second, you laugh. The two of you haven’t even been here for more than thirty minutes and he’s already trying to get into your pants. 

“Gorgeous fuckin’ thing.” The praise makes you flush and he knows it, making his way down so he can kneel between your legs. “Get these off, sugar.” And even though he says it like a command, he does it for you, undoing your jeans and yanking them down your legs. The help you offer is brief, a simple lift of your hips. But then you’re falling back down and watching him spread your legs. 

“Yeah… this is what I wanna see.” With his gaze focused on your center, Jack groans, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip. “Already leakin’ through your panties…”

In an experimental act, he reaches out, finger swiping over the very center of the delicate cloth. It’s damp, the middle darkened from your wetness. And that makes him grin, makes him fucking throb in his pants. 

“You know it, don’t you?” He asks before leaning forward and stuffing his face between your thighs. Again, it takes you by surprise, forcing your legs wider while that curved nose of his nuzzles its way into your crotch. And then, he’s inhaling, hot mouth opening to taste you through your panties.

“D-Daddy,” This time, it comes out as a whine, one hand fisting his hair while the other grabs hold of the couch. 

“Ugh,” Lifting himself just enough for you to hear, he says, “Know just how fuckin’ good you taste.” Reaching forward, Jack hooks two fingers around your panties before pulling them aside. And then his tongue is laying out, flattening it to give your cunt one firm, wet swipe. 

“Fuck,” Puffing out a harsh breath, your eyes are fluttering shut, feeling the firm shove of his tongue. 

“Get so goddamn wet like this, babycakes.” He notes, mouthing at your clit. Lifting a hand, he grabs onto your hip, urging you to sit back and lift your pelvis up a bit. It gives him better access, after all. “Been a goddamn fountain since I got you pregnant.”

And that makes you laugh, hands lowering to brush kindly through his hair. Both of those broad palms then move beneath your thighs, holding them with a secure grip while sucking on your core. It’s already on his face, on his lips and chin and cheeks. And lord, does he love that. He’d willingly drown in this if he could. Getting his face wet with your slick made him the happiest man on earth, made him harder than he ever thought he could be. 

“Pretty little whore, aren’t you?” Jack chuckles, leaning back to spit on your folds. “Sittin’ here with my baby inside you, and your body’s still beggin’ for more.” The devil truly came out when he was like this, nothing but offensive praise and aggressive passion.

Running his tongue up and down through your lips, he groans, wrapping his mouth around your sensitive bud. And when he gives the tiniest succession of sucks, pulsing his lips around that tiny pearl, you feel like you’re going to come undone. Every part of you feels light and airy, like you could float away at any second. It’s like you’re buzzing with it, with euphoria and happiness. And he just keeps going, just keeps his head between your legs and his mouth on your throbbing cunt. 

Jack knows when to hold you down, he’s done this too many times to not be aware. The grip he gives your hips is bruising, digging in with ferocity while shoving you onto his mouth. Your hips grind against him, head forcing itself back while you cry out for him. It’s a sweet whine, a gasping moan, fingers tightening on those dark brown strands while he fucks his tongue into you over and over again. He did that every time he ate you out, sucked on your clit until he made you unravel and then dove down to collect what he’d worked so hard for.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” He’s out of breath, reaching for your jaw before smashing his mouth to your own. Instantly, the combination of his spit and your slick is running down your chin, legs shaking gently while Jack consumes you from above. 

“I’m, I - baby.”

“Get up,” Jack grunts, hauling you up by your arms. “Gonna get you in bed so I can see the mess you made for me.” 

Keeping his grip on your bicep, he pulls you alongside him, hurrying down the hall. The master bedroom isn’t far, which your shaky legs are thankful for. His demanding words and actions make everything seem so quick, like you don’t have a choice in anything that’s going on. And truthfully, you want it that way. You want Jack to make the decisions, you want to lie down and do whatever he wants you to. 

Shoving you forward, he watches you stumble onto the bed, a bright grin on your beautiful face. Taking a beat, he pauses, standing above you before beginning to remove his shirt. And while keeping that deadly gaze, you move backward on the covers, shimmying out of your panties. 

Eyes dipping down, he nods toward your chest. “Take off your bra.” 

While unbuttoning his shirt, he watches you complete his task, tossing the last bit of your clothing onto the floor beside your bed. And just in time for him to shove his pants down, too. 

“Mine,” He suddenly says, crawling over you on the bed. “Mine - all mine.”

Again, he’s obsessing over your breasts, shoving his face between them while his hands work the rest. His body rubs against you, cock wet and leaking on your thigh. It makes your insides burn bright, seeing his overt attraction for you. He gets so passionate when he’s like this, so vulnerable yet assertive, confident. 

“Let me get my fingers inside you.” That breathy voice says, licking two of them before dragging them down your chest. 

While his tongue lays out, toying with your nipples, Jack’s fingers dip inside your entrance, already loose from your orgasm. So sweet and welcoming, velvety and warm. And all you can do is writhe beneath the weight of his body, turning your head to kiss his cheek and neck. The curl of his fingers practically makes you shriek, feeling your body react on its own accord. 

“So sensitive like this, baby.” It’s lazy, the way he licks your nipples, teeth dragging over the red and puffy peaks. And then he’s sucking on them, sucking on the swollen swell of your tits and groaning like he’d just cum in his goddamn pants.

“Tell me you want more.”

“I want it,” Nodding, you gasp, swallowing dryly. “I want more.”

Your hips cant upwards in time with his fingers’ movement, hands grasping for his bicep and back. But it’s not enough, not for him.

“Tell daddy you need him, c’mon.”

“Daddy, please.”

“Nuh-uh,” Breathily, he chuckles. “Use your big girl words, sweet pea.” 

“I need you, I need you, daddy. Please, please.” In an attempt to convince him, you lower your hand, finding him laying heavy over your thigh. The firm grip you give his cock makes everything slow down for him, his eyes shutting alongside a small hiss. Even his fingers fall slack, chest dropping against your own. 

“Touch me, baby.” It’s a quiet command, one said while he nods. “Touch daddy.”

Knowing that he’s happy with this, you grin, running your fist up and down his length. Glancing down between your bodies, Jack watches, eyeing the way your thumb swipes over his tip.

“Oh, fuck.” Shaking his head, Jack sighs, hips rocking into your grip. “Always need you like this, sugar, always…” 

You can’t deny that it’s been hard these past few weeks, hell, these past few months. Being intimate hasn’t been a priority for the two of you, unfortunately; stress just took control of your lives. Jack’s career was becoming incredibly demanding, leaving you to care for the house and your unborn baby all on your own. Setting up the nursery, going to doctor’s appointments by yourself, feeling the baby kick without your husband there to experience it, somedays, it was just heartbreaking for you. But you’re here now, you’re together, without a single distraction in sight. You’re his, and he’s mine. That fact is always in your mind.

Taking himself from your hand, he settles between your legs with a relieved breath. Jack’s love for you consumes him, his entire body and mind. He just wants to wrap himself around you, looping his arms around your back while burying his face in your hair. 

“Jack,” It’s said quietly while you hold him, stroking his hair. 

Lifting one hand, it rests on your left breast, Jack’s hips moving to push into you slowly. The way you open up for him is an absolute dream, a breathless laugh spilling from his mouth as it happens. And when he pinches your nipple, you whine, forcing a jump from his cock as it rests inside. 

“You just need a lil’ extra somethin’, don’t you, sweetheart?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but you’re not sure what he means. 

Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, Jack smiles brightly, lips dragging over the skin as he begins to move. So he doesn’t hurt you, the hand on your chest moves to the bed, placing all of his weight onto it. 

“Puttin’ my dick inside you just ain’t enough anymore. Was it ever?”

“Daddy, what…” The steady pump of his cock between your legs is making you feel delirious, flooding your body with a sense of euphoria you’ve never felt before your pregnancy. “What do you mean?” 

“Remember what we used to do, sugar? You remember?” Heat creeps onto your cheeks as he says it, legs lifting to his waist as the arousal in your body heightens. “You remember what you did in my office?” 

“B-Baby,” He knows this gets to you, knows it hits right to your core.

“I remember,” Jack continues, licking at your neck. “Bendin’ you over my desk, fuckin’ you dumb over my paperwork. Or how ‘bout the times you sucked me off while I talked to Champ, huh? What about that?” 

Every firm shove forces the tip of his cock against your most sensitive spot, the thin tissue that just begs for his presence. And that, alongside those devilish words, is making you drip around him.

“Crawling on your knees for me in my jet,” He’s throbbing inside you, words becoming airy as he reconnects with your body. “Shit,” Hissing harshly, his eyes pinch shut. “Fuck me, honey. You remember rubbing yourself over me? Over my new goddamn boots because you were so horny?”

“Fuck, yes.” Exposing your neck even more, you toss your head back, feeling Jack’s teeth make their own special imprint. 

The memory is all too erotic, something you honestly can’t believe you did. Jack made you stupid; he was so goddamn attractive, so goddamn charming, that you’d do anything just to please him. Even if it meant humiliating yourself, you’d do it just to get off. 

“Hm…” You sigh out, placing your chin on his knee and closing your eyes in contentment.

“How’s that feel, honey?” He asks, reaching down to tilt your chin up to him.

Your eyes open, lids already heavy with adoration and lust. Jack’s smiling down at you, his expression soft and caring.

“So good,” Comes your contented hum, more than happy to finally have contact with your lover.

“Yeah?” He whispers, “Then keep goin’. Make ‘em all wet and shiny for me, honey.”  

You whimper quietly at his words, moaning lightly as you lean forward to begin moving your hips. The movement of your soft skin, your folds brushing over the smoothness of the material, only furthers the waves of heat that begin flowing through your core.  

“Go on,” He urges, “entertain me, sweet pea.”

“God, do I miss that. Havin’ my own little slut on tap.”

“Daddy, I’m, I’m still here.” It sounds pathetic, like you’re begging, trying your damnedest to prove to him that that part of you hasn’t left. 

“Oh, I know you are.” Lifting himself from your body, Jack glares down at you, one hand lifting to grab your jaw. “I know you’re there, babycakes. Comes out every time I’m inside you, every time I give you a demand. Why don’t you show me?”

At this, your brows raise innocently, unable to speak from the grip he has on your jaw and chin. And amidst your silence, he says, “Show me how well you still listen to me… and open that mouth.”

As soon as his grip allows you to, your lips are parting. That strong hand drops to your throat then, Jack’s face coming down to drip a cool trail of spit onto your tongue. But he’s not done then, not until spitting forcefully onto your mouth. And the moan you exude is nothing short of whorish and erotic, the liquid sliding over your tongue. 

“Yeah…” The word is said with a cocky sense of power, that gorgeous half-smirk crawling onto his face. “You just can’t get off to that vanilla shit anymore, can you, babycakes? You need it rough, don’t you?”

That hand is still on your throat, and only tightens as he speaks. With every thrust, his pelvis slaps against you, forcing your legs wider, and forcing himself deeper.

“Need daddy to manhandle you? Choke you? Hold you down and bruise you?”

Burying himself inside your cunt, you can’t help but feel so perfectly full, the veins along his shaft rubbing delightfully against your inner skin. It feels so natural, this connection, so natural and sensual. But nothing about it is sweet; everything about this encounter screams salacious and indecent. 

“Yes,” Comes your little plea, nodding. “Yes.”

Each shove rocks your body against the mattress, the strength of Jack’s body surrounding your entire presence. He feels so warm and strong, soft when he needs to be and mean when he wants to be. 

“I love this,” Jack admits, “Love nothing more than this; connecting with you. Look at you, just look at you.”

Lowering himself with a flurry of rapid breaths, he presses his mouth to your cheek, expressing his adoration for you. “You’re so good for me, my pretty baby. So pretty like this, sugar. Fuckin’ gorgeous when you take me.”

“I need you, can’t, can’t live without you.”

“Never, sugar.” Gasping against the side of your head, Jack’s chest stutters, a deep groan slipping from his lips. “Always here for you, with you.” 

When he gets like this, you can’t help but wrap your legs around him, tightening every muscle and pulling him in. And he lets you, falling into your embrace with a deep moan of gratification. It consumes him, the pleasure of it all, of releasing inside your wonderfully welcoming body. Jolting slightly above your beautiful and giving form, Jack moans helplessly, feeling his release wash over your walls. Every spurt is accompanied with a sharp shudder, arms moving to encircle you fully. Humid grunts pass over your ear, his mouth hanging open as he experiences the sensation of it. 

“My sweet girl.” Your husband finally says, his body tingling with every ounce of happiness that he has. His hold is full of pure, unwavering love, full of absolute worship and adoration. And beneath him, you relax, wanting nothing more than to rest with him in this peace. 

Kissing your head, Jack whispers sweetly, “Perfect little thing.” 

It’s in this moment that you feel every single worry melt away, every anxious thought about Statesman and the baby. Those negative notions serve absolutely no purpose to you, not when Jack is here, not when he cares for you so consistently and so openly. With Jack, you’re safe, you’ve never known otherwise. And nothing could ever take him away from you.

#daddyyy YESSSSS #YES #Daddy Whiskey #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey x you #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x female reader #Agent Whiskey smut #Daddycember #Daddycember 2023 #Daddycember '23

[hoodie-buck]

—author!buck is here y’all! thanks to everyone who didn’t let me give up on her, especially my wife april who never shut up about it jfjrjs. thanks for loving the idea and helping me make it come true, and ofc for the sexy cover art 😏 mwah ily 🫶🏼 hope y’all enjoy!

rated: e | words: 24.7k | chapters: 3 | read on ao3

summary:

“So,” Maddie started, “I have some good news, and some…bad news.”

“Mads, I literally can’t take any more bad news.”

“Well, the good news is that the bad news can be fixed by the good news.”

He was so confused.

“Remember I told you one of the models had to cancel?” Buck nodded. “Well Hen found another last-minute replacement, but they—well they also had to cancel…last minute.”

“Anyway, Hen was able to find another replacement, for the replacement.”

“Ok. Fine, whatever. Why are you telling me all of this anyway if you’ve already found another replacement?”

“Well, Chim and I were talking, and we thought—who better to model for the covers than the one who wrote them?”

“Mads, no way! I’m already way in over my head with all these bonus chapters. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about modeling.”

“Well, that’s perfect, seeing as our other model doesn’t have any prior experience either.

One look at the guy had Buck asking what they needed him for.

—or—

Buck’s an author who writes smutty hallmark books. He needs new covers for his holiday editions. Who better to model for them than himself and the hot dad who likes to be called eight pack?

tagging squad below, just lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @loveyourownsmiilee @monsterrae1 @buddierights @swiftiebuckleyhan @honestlydarkprincess @barbiediaz @spotsandsocks @justsmilestuffhappens @santadiazz @djdangerlove @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @wh0re-behavi0r @ronordmann @spaceprincessem @arthursdent @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @wildlife4life @betty-boom @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @nmcggg @theotherbuckley @louis-tenn @the-gayest-wug @buckley-diaz-rules @muppetbuddie @gamer-kai @blorbodiaz @heartshapedvows @trashbaget @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @wikiangela @hobbitnarwhal @shortsighted-owl @pirrusstuff @goldencherrymooon @murder-trio @daffi-990 @greenfairrryy @mattsire

#buddie #buddie fic #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #henrietta wilson #chimney han #christopher diaz #ravi panikkar #911 #author!buck #christmas fic #enimies to lovers #smut #getting together #different first meeting

[tieronecrush]

water in your hands

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)

word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)

summary:

You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…

Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish

author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3

PART II HERE

dividers from @saradika

Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.

Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.

Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him. 

A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.

The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.

Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.

“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like -- 

Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”

A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.

“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”

“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.

“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.

Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”

Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.

“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.

Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy. 

“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”

Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.

The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.

He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:

You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..

The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).

It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.

“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm. 

He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”

Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.

“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”

He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.

“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”

“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”

That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.

“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”

“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.

Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.

Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.

So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.

You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.

The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.

But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?

You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.

Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.

Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.

Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.

“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”

“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”

“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”

Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”

He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.

“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”

You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”

The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.

“Any spot in particular?”

As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.

Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”

Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”

“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”

He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.

“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”

“Astrology?”

“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”

Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.

Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”

Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”

“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”

“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”

You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.

Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”

Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”

His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.

Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.

His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.

His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.

Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.

You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.

His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.

Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”

He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.

“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”

Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.

His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.

There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.

His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.

“Joel, please…”

His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.

“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.

Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.

“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”

With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.

His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.

He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.

“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”

“I know, baby. Let it happen.”

His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.

Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.

“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”

You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.

“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.

Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch. 

He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”

His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.

“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”

“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”

Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.

They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.

Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.

He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.

“You okay?”

Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”

His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.

He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.

Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.

So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.

He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.

He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.

A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.

Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.

He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.

Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.

The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.

“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.

He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.

“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.

“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”

The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”

You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.

 “What do you need to talk about?”

“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”

“Do you regret it?”

He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.

“No. I could never regret it.”

“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”

He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”

After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.

“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”

All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.

He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.

He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.

Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.

All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.

Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”

You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.

It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.

“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”

Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”

“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.

Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.

When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.

“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.

He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.

He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”

“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.

That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.

Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.

“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.

“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”

“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.

You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”

He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.

Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.

Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.

You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.

Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:

Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl

You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.

Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.

You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.

Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.

But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.

And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.

Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.

It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.

Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.

Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.

“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.

You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.

His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.

He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.

“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”

“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.

His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”

He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.

“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”

His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.

“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”

“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.

Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.

“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”

A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.

You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.

He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.

The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”

The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.

“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.

“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.

“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.” 

Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.

Joel.

He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.

At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.

Tommy asked him to wait outside.

Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”

He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.

Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.

Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.

“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”

Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.

“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.

He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”

That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.

His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”

Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.

He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.

“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.

“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”

He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.

Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.

“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.

You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”

You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.” 

You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.

As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”

if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.

taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)

#why am i more nervous to post this than submitting my dissertation #thank you to all who read! #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us hbo fanfic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #me #writing

[bisexualiteaa]

Ghoulish Kinda Love

John Hancock x Ghoul!Fem Reader (SMUT!! and some fluff!)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! ghoul reader, chem usage, alcohol use, talks of discrimination, p in v, p0rn w/ some plot, slow burn, FEELINGS! Fingering, oral, (fem receiving) short handjob, unprotected sex, ghoul sex, riding, irradiated cream pie, cursing, fluffy ending, potential spelling/grammar errors, slight deviance from game

AN: I’m back partying people! Thank you to those who have put requests in regarding our charismatic ghoul companion Hancock! Been itching to write something for him and give him a little more love because there isn’t a lot out there for my boy Hancock, and he deserves all the love. ❤️ We won’t talk about the way I’d go to write this and each time I would, a sign telling me I need to “repent for my sins” would come up along the road lmao. 😭 Anyway, enjoy some fluffy smutty action with our man Hancock! Please go easy, I’m still relatively new to all things Fallout so if I goof up some stuff from the game, I do apologize, I’m still learning! But otherwise I do hope y’all enjoy! 🥰

Also I don’t own the rights to any music here, but there are a few songs if you’d like to enjoy them along with the moment for a more immersive experience!

You didn’t remember much from your life before the bombs dropped on that horrifically fateful day. You vaguely remember the taste of pie when you would bake it, or Mac ‘n cheese back when it was made with clean water and fresh hot off the burner. You even more vaguely remember the days of dressing really nice, now it was all you could to find something that was concealing enough to hide who you had become wandering along the commonwealth aimlessly. There was once purpose in your journey, once meaning behind it but not anymore, at least not one you could remember. Two hundred years is a long time to live, a lot of memories to hold, and when you’re spending a lot of that time trying to keep from turning feral it’s even harder to remember the trivial things like life without radiation exposure. It pained your heart to think about, to look at yourself in a mirror or your reflection in a passing puddle of radiated water. One thing you do remember is looking beautiful once upon a time, your once E/C eyes having turned a hazy black, your H/L, H/C having long since fallen out. Hell, the most noticeable part was that your nose was completely missing now, your leathery marred skin a sickly grey making you look like a walking corpse. You hated looking upon yourself now that you were a ghoul, you had been for a little over a century now, but it still always caught you by surprise.

t was one day upon your blind stumbling that you had entered a town called Goodneighbor, your bandana covering your face and large hat on to keep the fact that you were a ghoul slightly harder to point out lest it be anything like Diamond City was. You found out the hard way that day that a lot of places don’t take kindly to ghouls, and whether you were feral or not they tended not to want to chance it. You were just going to stroll through, minding your own business when a man stopped you on your way in. “Hey, hold up there. First time in Goodneighbor? Can’t go walkin’ around without insurance” spoke the gruff voice of a man who had just lit a cigarette in front of you, speaking with it sticking from the corner of his mouth before removing it and blowing the smoke in your direction. Asshole. “Unless it’s keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me insurance, I’m not interested” you stated, and he didn’t quite like the tone you were catching. “Now don’t be like that, I think you’re gonna like what I have on offer” he replied, making you roll your eyes at his persistence. Here we go. “You hand over everything you got in them pockets or “accidents” start happening to ya. Big, bloody, accidents” he threatened, and you didn’t take too kindly to it but by now, you were used to the casual threat being thrown your way, especially as a ghoul. You heard a gravely voice from off in the distance, almost as if he had just appeared from the alleyway between the buildings in behind the man haggling you. “Woah woah, now time out” the man spoke, wearing a black tri-corn hat and a stark red jacket with a white dress shirt underneath. What really caught you by surprise? He was a ghoul. “someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a guest. You lay off the extortion crap” he finished, walking towards the man haggling you and the man almost seemed to meet him halfway as if he knew him. All you could do was stand there in awe. Holy shit, he was defending you, no one ever did that. “What’d you care? She ain’t one of us” the man spoke, his cigarette smoke still lingering in your nostrils from when he’d blown it in your face. “No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let her go” the ghoul said, standing his ground. Wait…did he say mayor? He was the mayor of this town? As a ghoul?? You were so flabbergasted to imagine such a thing, your kind were so hated, you could never have thought of a town being accepting enough to be run by a ghoul. Although you could tell by the body language this man in particular didn’t really care for the mayor, they looked as if they were getting ready to have a stand off. “You’re soft Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor” the man, Finn countered. “Come on man, this is me we’re talkin about. Let me tell ya somethin’…” the ghoul, Hancock said, walking closer to Finn, looking as if he was stretching his hand out to place it on Finn’s shoulder but instead, reached for a knife, stabbing your haggler repeatedly in the stomach until he dropped to the ground at his feet. You were in shock, you’d seen people killed before, heck you’ve killed people yourself before because it was a kill or be killed kinda world out here, but never in the time you spent as a ghoul had anyone ever killed for you.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Breakin’ my heart here” Hancock said to the man before looking to you. “You alright, sister?” He asked. “Your face…it’s like mine” was unfortunately all you could say, bringing your bandana down to show him. “Ya like it? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies” he said flirtatiously, his voice dipping a little lower, bringing out the gravely rasp to his tone and if you could blush still, you would have. You gave a smile and a giggle, enjoying his take on ghoulification. “I’m a ghoul, something I see we share. Lot of walkin’ rad freaks like us around here” he said, and you felt guilty for pointing it out and not thanking him first, but his next words put a warmth in your heart to hear. “Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome” he said, and that made you smile because never had you been some place where you felt so welcome for being who you were. “Of the people, for the people? Oh brother…” you joked sarcastically, making him laugh. “I can tell I’m gonna like you already. Just consider this town your home away from home…so long as you remember who’s in charge” he said before starting to walk off, but you were so curious, had so many questions needing answers to, so you bothered and stopped him.

“What can I do for ya, newcomer?” He asked happily, making you almost clam up when you went to speak but you cleared your throat, working through your anxiety. “What’s your story, Hancock?” You asked kindly yet curiously. “My favorite subject. I came into this town about…a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of the community, I would go on these…like…wild tears. I was young; any chems I could find, the more exotic the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug, only one of its kind left, and only one hit” he said, and his story had you intrigued. “Oh man, the high was so worth it. Yeah I’m livin’ with the side effects but hey, what’s not to love about immortality?” He asked, making you chuckle. “Got its perks, its downsides too but hey, glad to finally see someone enjoyin’ it” you said, making him chuckle. “All that chem use definitely prepared you for a career in politics…” you quipped wittily, making him chuckle. “People respect me because I don’t put myself above them. I sling and shoot up just like the next guy” he said, and you respected that. “Hey, no judgement! I respect that” you replied. “Can you tell me more about this town of yours, Goodneighbor?” You asked. “It’s all about the people, understand? They’re freaks, misfits, and troublemakers and that’s why I love ‘em. Everyone here lives their own life, their own way. No judgements” he said proudly, making you smile happily to find yourself welcomed to such a wonderful place. It wasn’t anything crazy big or crazy busy, it was quaint and sweet, felt like home and that was a hard feeling to come by these days. This was the first time you’d ever been anywhere so accepting, so care free of looks or who you were or what you did. It felt good. Maybe this was what you’d been searching for all this time.

“I have a feeling you’ll fit in well here” he said with a warm and inviting smile to match his tone, making you smile hopefully, and it made him happy to see such a look on your face, to know he had helped someone who seemed to really need it. “Thank you, it’s so nice to finally be welcomed somewhere rather than forced out” you said, and he felt that pain, knew that a lot of other people who stayed in his town felt the same way. It warmed his heart to know that he could be a helping hand. You seemed really sweet, he hoped you’d settle in and stay a while, newcomers were always interesting around here but you piqued his interest just a little bit more than most others did.

So as you settled in over time, he got to know you a little bit more. You would often venture down to the bar, and you’d found Hancock there quite often, there you exchanged life stories, dreams, aspirations, regrets. It was nice, finally having human interaction for once with someone, someone who understood and someone who wouldn’t cringe or push you away when you spoke. Some nights, he’d put something on from the jukebox and ask you to dance with him, not caring about how bad either of you were in your drunken/high states. Did I mention you were chem buddies? Oh yeah. When night time came, or you’d find some chems while out scavenging the commonwealth for more supplies to help yourself, Hancock and the town, he was inviting you to his room on the state house to do them with him. For that time, you could just forget the world in its entirety, forget being a ghoul, forget it all. You would smile and laugh amongst each other as you told wild stories, flirted with one another, it was always a good time with him. You never had to worry, and you loved that. He was a safe place to just be yourself and he did the same, with absolutely no shame or judgement in sight.

There was one night in particular that you’d remember for the rest of your days, no matter how long you lived until. You were at the bar, talking and enjoying a few drinks with Hancock as you both typically spent your evenings, before you watched him saunter his way over to the jukebox, picking a song to play to dance with you to. As much as Fehr claimed she wanted no part in, or held any care in your growing relationship with the mayor, she couldn’t help but feel a little warmth and happiness deep down that Hancock had finally managed to find someone that made him happy. It was good to see him happy and well, to be carefree in the positive kind of way rather than just getting high in his room all the time. Of course he was still getting high, but it was with you, someone who kept him company, someone who he could confide in. You smirked as you recognized the song that was playing as he leaned against the jukebox, his eyes raking your figure as Oh, Pretty Woman began to play, urging you over to him to dance with him. How could you say no to a man with such charisma?

Pretty woman walkin’ down the street

Pretty woman, the kind I’d like to meet

Pretty woman, I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth

No one could look as good as you

Mercy

He’d softly sang along with the song, his arm sliding around your waist to your back, swiftly and effectively pulling you against him, your hands resting against the ruffles along his white under shirt. You smiled up at him, knowing this was once again one of those times that if you could blush, you would. You’d never felt this way before, never felt so cared for, so wanted since you’d become a ghoul.

Pretty woman, won’t you pardon me?

Pretty woman, I couldn’t help but see

Pretty woman, that you look lovely as can be

Are you lonely just like me?

He continued to sing, just loud enough for you to hear, grabbing your hand and spinning you in front of him suavely before dipping you, unphased by anyone who could be looking on. You smiled as people clapped and stomped their feet to the beat as a way to hype you both up. You couldn’t help the fury of giggles leaving you as he did so, absolutely stunned by such a display.

Grrrow

He imitated right by your ear with a grin, making a shiver run down your spine at the way his raspy voice dropped in octave a little bit as he did. You gave an intrigued sound in response before a laugh bubbled up from your throat as you pulled his signature black, tri-corn hat off from his head in the process of standing back up, placing it on your own with a mischievous grin up at him that he mirrored back. He was good and he knew it, but you couldn’t just let him have this that easily, as much as you were down bad for him, you wanted to see him chase you a little bit. Needed to see if he was all talk or if his words and actions held meaning to them like you hoped they would.

Pretty woman, stop awhile

Pretty woman, talk awhile

Pretty woman, give your smile to me

Pretty woman, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pretty woman, look my way

Pretty woman, say you’ll stay with me

‘Cause I need you, I’ll treat you right

Come with me, baby, be mine tonight

He sang as you danced once more, grabbing your hands and twirling you to where your back pressed to his front for a moment before twirling you back, his fingers beneath your chin as you looked up at him at the end of the verse with a teasing grin. You sauntered away to the doorway towards the rooms before stopping there, turning to look over your shoulder at him as an invitation but stayed as you watched him sing.

Pretty woman, don’t walk on by

Pretty woman, don’t make me cry

Pretty woman, don’t walk away, hey

Okay

If that’s the way it must be, okay

I guess I’ll go on home, it’s late

There’ll be tomorrow night, but wait

What do I see?

Is she walkin’ back to me?

He sang as he watched your hand as it slid down from the doorway you propped up against before making your way back to him, getting just as excited to see you come back as the man singing the song claimed to be. He smirked, watching the sway of your hips as you walked towards him, giving a whistle as you did, his eyes roaming your body.

Yeah, she’s walkin’ back to me

Oh, oh, pretty woman

He finished, watching you loop your arms around his neck as his hands came to rest against your hips and god he’d never been more scared than fucking up this moment with you. Does he just hold you? Does he kiss you? Fuck, do you even feel that way about him? He figured with the way you two flirted, with the way you gave him bedroom eyes just a minute ago that you did, but he didn’t want to be an asshole and just assume either. Maybe he’d let you make the first move, place it in your hands to do with what you wish. That look in your eyes made him never want to look away, you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. God how he adored you, he wanted you so badly, and not even in just the sexual way that he normally felt for women who piqued his interest now and again. You were really and truly different in his eyes. As people clapped and cheered on for you both, the tension in the air was broken momentarily, making you laugh happily as you looked out at everyone then back up at him. You smiled up at him, your heart racing as he looked at you with a smile that told him this was the moment. So he took the leap of faith, pulling his hat from your head and leaning down to kiss you, his hat concealing your lips that locked together softly. The on lookers gave a whistle and a cheer as they knew exactly what was happening, and you placed your hands on either sides of his face, pulling him to you to keep him there for just a little bit longer. He grinned into your kiss, his free hand coming to rest on your hip as all worries flew out the window the moment you enthusiastically pulled him in. There couldn’t have been a happier man to exist in that moment other than him, watching as he looked down at you with the most star struck look on his face. “What do you say you and me sneak off for the night, Mr. Mayor?” You asked, placing his hat back on his head and adjusting it for him with a smile. He gave a raspy chuckle at you using his title and what you were insinuating from your question. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t send an excited twitch straight to his cock. “I’d say I like the way you think, sunshine” he replied, making you smile and giggle at his enthusiasm. “Good answer” you replied. Guess it was a good thing you’d paid for your drinks already after all.

You followed him upstairs, to his room in the state house, closing the door behind you both as you walked in after him. You could still hear the jukebox playing music loudly, you smiled as you heard the next song playing from it. Coincidentally enough, it was perfect for a slow dance. His hand boldly came to rest on your waist as his free hand grabbed yours, your fingers intertwined together. “I know it might be cheesy but…now that we’re away from all the pryin’ eyes, I wanna do this right” he said, making you smile softly at him, doing your best to hide the giddy excitement bubbling inside of you that you hadn’t felt in centuries. “Would you…dance with me?” He asked, making you smile brightly as your arms looped around his neck and you looked up at him with a dreamy smile. “I’d be delighted to” you replied, making him smile back down at you. You hummed along with the opening of the song, knowing the melody that was being played.

Crazy, I’m crazy for feelin’ so lonely

I’m crazy, crazy for feelin’ so blue.

I knew, you’d love me as long as you wanted

And then someday, you’d leave me for somebody new.

You sang as you rest your head against his chest as you both swayed to the rhythm of the song. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of him against you and the feel of his embrace. He gave a contented hum, getting to hear your lovely voice so close, and only for him in this moment. In this moment you weren’t the newcomer that everyone felt the need to gawk at every time you entered a room with him, as selfish as it made him feel but at the same time, in this moment he wasn’t the people’s either. He was yours, and you were his. For a moment the world felt at peace. For a moment, all time seemed to stop around you and it was just the two of you here. It was calming, intimate even. Intimate in a way that for the first time, wasn’t sexual for a change. The closest he’d really ever gotten to intimacy without sex was aftercare, and even then, it came after sex so therefore it was still involved. But this? This was nice. Having you in his embrace, your head against his chest, not a wrinkle of worry evident on your face, and his only worry being if his heart was racing too harshly or too loud for you to be able to withstand.

Worry, why do I let myself worry?

Wonderin’ what in the world did I do?

Crazy, for thinkin’ that my love could hold you.

I’m crazy for tryin’, and crazy for cryin’

And I’m crazy for lovin’ you.

You supposed the song wasn’t wrong in a way, most people would call you crazy for falling in love with a ghoul, or trying to fall in love period as a ghoul. Most people knew them by the characteristic lack of smooth skin, sunken in and marred skin, missing noses and the potential that they turn feral at any moment. You would never listen to that though, as a ghoul you knew you came with ups and downs, but you never let that stop you from seeing the best in others just as you’d hope they would some day do for you in return. After all, you and John both have had your fair share of run ins with feral ghouls in your time traveling together, you both knew what to look out for. John wasn’t one of them, and he knew neither were you. It never mattered to you what someone looked like, you only cared whether they would care for you in return the same way you care for them. How big their heart is, how they treat you and others around them. John was a good man, you knew this from the first moment you met him. Sure, the first moment you’d met him he killed someone, but he killed someone who was trying to harm and haggle you the moment you first step foot into what you’d learned to be his town. He did it to protect you. He looks out for his people, wanting, and doing only what is best for them, helping them any way he can. Of the people, for the people he’d always say. It was that drive, that selflessness that attracted you to him, but also that he didn’t discriminate like the rest of the world seemed to. You couldn’t care less about how his skin was marred from the years of radiation exposure, how a deep hole sits where his nose once did. You saw John for the man he is, the heart he has, not just as the ghoul everyone else does. That’s what made you so likable in his eyes, you never judged. You never held a distaste for the fact that you were a ghoul, that he was one, or that you were surrounded by your fellow people of Goodneighbor who were also mostly ghouls. You had a good outlook on things but weren’t too gullible to be taken advantage of, something that not many people had these days. He also appreciated the way you never judged his habits. Never once in the amount of times that he would take a hit of jet, or pop a couple of mentats, hell even on the rare occasional use of psycho, did you ever once judge him. You didn’t have to partake with him, he’d never force you to, but the fact that you didn’t cringe when he would, the fact that you would never chew him out for it as if he didn’t know the consequences of his own actions. You respected him, respected his way of living, just as he respected you and yours.

He looked down at you, seeing your eyes light up as they met his with a smile spread across your lovely, maybe slightly chapped, lips. He smiled down at you, his hand leaving yours to cradle your cheek as he looked upon you with astonishment. How could someone like you, so loving, so caring, choose him? In a world full of people, granted he knew from experience that the pickings amongst those of the surface were less than stellar, yet you still chose him. A ghoul, when there are people out there that are still far more human looking. Hell, he was sure you could make a synth even grow a heart if you wanted it to and looked upon one the way you looked at him. Sure he would tease you for liking him, for befriending him, but it warmed his heart to know that out of anyone out there, you chose him as your battle partner, him to adventure with. He only hoped deep down that that friendship could be more.

And almost as if someone out there was listening to his thoughts, had heard his silent prayers, he watched as your eyes flickered between his hazy black ones and then to his thin, marred lips, with a look he recognized well. This was the moment that would lead to it all, the moment he’d been waiting for, dreaming about since starting to travel with you and partake in your company. It was truly all or nothing now.

Crazy, for thinkin’ that my love could hold you.

I’m crazy for tryin’, and crazy for cryin’

And I’m crazy for lovin’…

You.

He smiled a little wider when your hand came to cradle his cheek like he was doing with you as you were singing, pulling him even closer to you, if it was possible. Before he knew it, as you sang the last word of the song, your lips found their way to his once more, pressing gently against his own but with confidence and passion that showed him you wanted this. That you wanted him. His hand that was on your cheek soon came to rest against the back of the one you had on his, keeping you as close as he could get but also ensuring that this was real. He needed to know that this wasn’t a dream or some jet fueled fantasy he was in. And to his surprise and delight, it was in fact real. He reciprocated the kiss, finally breaking out of his momentary shock to pull you against him, your chests flush together as his other hand gripped your hip. You smiled into it as his tongue prodded at your lower lip, asking kindly to deepen the kiss into something more passionate. You opened, allowing it and allowing the moment to carry you both to wherever it may lead. Your free hand came to rest against his chest, fingers toying with the ruffles of his undershirt beneath the red jacket he always wore, earning a low, gravely groan from him that rattled his chest. As you both parted for air, he looked down to see that beautiful half lidded expression as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Tell me I’m not dreamin’” he said, breathlessly, almost as if he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. His response made you chuckle. “I’d be really pissed if I was, that or damn impressed by what the chems you have can do” you quipped, making him laugh. “Me too. You feel real…real nice too” he complimented, his head ducking down to place small chaste kisses against your neck, always the charmer. You giggled. “Then I’d say it’s real” you replied, and those were the words he wanted to hear. He chuckled softly as he exhaled, relieved to know it was real.

He smiled but you could tell there was something eating at him, something he hadn’t said yet. You’d known Hancock long enough in the time you’d spent getting high with him and traveling the commonwealth with him to know his cues. Part of him hated the way that you could tell something was off, after all, he always wanted to keep this aloof front, like nothing ever bugged him but you knew that wasn’t true. Something was bugging him now. “There’s uhh…there’s something I need you to hear” he started, making you part enough to give him space, but not too far to make him feel like you weren’t there for him or put off by what he’d said. “Is everything alright?” You asked, concern in your tone that maybe you might have overstepped a boundary or assumed something incorrectly. “Oh yeah, better than that. This is just…tricky” he replied before giving a sigh, as if trying to get the tension to release from him with one breath. “It’s just, being out there with you, it’s made me realize. Most of my life to this point, I’ve been runnin’ out on the good things I got” he answered, but you could tell he wasn’t done yet, he had more to get off of his chest. “I skipped out on my family, my life in Diamond City. Took up with you just to get outta Goodneighbor. Hell, runnin’ from myself is what made me into…into a damn ghoul” he added, sounding upset at himself, and you wanted so badly in that moment to reach out and take his hand, do something to comfort him, but you wanted him to finish as to not overstep or rudely cut him off. “But bein’ here with you, for the first time in my life, things have just felt…right” he added, making you smile softly at that. You were happy you could be help and a good friend to him, even if you deep down wanted more than that. “And running? It’s the furthest thing from my mind. I mean, I left Goodneighbor thinkin’ I was just gonna sharpen up the ol’ killer instinct. But whether it’s fate, or destiny, or just god damn coincidence, I ended up with someone like you” he continued, making you smile once again, even brighter this time at him as you imagined a soft pink would have flushed to your cheeks had you had a smoother set of skin. “I turned one of the nastiest settlements in the commonwealth into a refuge for the lost. I thought I’d done something I could hang my hat on. But being out there with you, it’s made me realize just how small time I’d been thinkin’. And that maybe all my running, from my life, myself…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all” he confessed, making you look slightly confused as to what he’d said.

“Running from yourself? What do you mean?” You asked, making him chuckle a bit as he thought of what to say to both be honest but also lighten the slightly damper mood up a little bit. He needed to see that smile back on your lips, when you smiled at him, it was like the world was no longer in shambles. He needed that, right now and until the end of his days because he swore no high from any chem out there compared to the one you’d give him. “Well, I didn’t always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a ghoul, I knew what it was going to do. I just couldn’t stand lookin’ at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore” he replied, making your heart break for him that he felt that way about himself, under all that confidence. “The coward who’d let all those ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys. If I took it, I’d never have to look at him again. I could put all that behind me. I’d be free. Didn’t seem like a choice at all” he added. “Turns out it was just me runnin’ from somethin’ else in my life” he continued, sounding ashamed for his actions and his past, and you understood better than anyone what that felt like. You stepped a little closer to him to grab his hand in yours, an offering of comfort. “Hey, it doesn’t matter what you did. All that matters is what you do from here on out” you said confidently, something you always told yourself to keep your head high and keep going, making him chuckle. “I know a lotta bookies that’d disagree with you. But I feel what you’re gettin’ at. So let me get to the point” he said, grabbing your other hand in his as he looked at you, eye to eye now to show you what he was about to say next was very important to him.

“Throwin’ in with you, has been the best decision I ever made. It’s like I found a part of myself I never realized was missing…which happens sometimes when you’re a ghoul” he started, making you chuckle as you too knew that feeling all too well by now. “If I hadn’t taken up with you, I’d probably be in the gutter somewhere, getting gnawed on by radroaches. You’ve been one hell of a friend” he said, making you smile and chuckle at that, before you looked down at your hands held together, working up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing your mind for ages now. This was it, this was the moment. “Have you…ever thought about us as maybe more than just friends?” You asked skittishly almost, hoping he’d say yes, praying he felt the same way. A part of you felt deep down like he did, call it hope, call it whatever, but you were never fully sure where you guys stood. You two flirted like he held interest, he looked out for you, invited you along for things that he’d really never invite anyone else to other than maybe Fehr, but it felt different when it was with you. There was a connection between you, that was undeniable, but what type of connection you were never sure of. He gave a chuckle at your question. “It that obvious? But c’mon, you don’t wanna wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for” he replied, joking in that self deprecating manner he always did but answering your question nonetheless. “Hey, who I fall for is my decision, and I’ve fallen for you” you replied softly but with confidence, showing him that you meant it. “Wouldn’t expect that kinda lapse in judgement from you. But I guess that works out for me then, doesn’t it?” He asked with a happy smile, chuckling once more but you could tell that that comment did wonders to help him feel more at ease. “Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky” he added, making you chuckle in response as you came closer, looping your arms around his neck once again. “Sure you do. You deserve the world in my eyes, John” you said softly, genuinely as you looked up at him, your eyes promising nothing but love and support for his any and every endeavor. “I don’t need the world sunshine. I got you, what else could I need?” He replied, making you giggle as you rest your head against his chest. “So everything is okay between us then?” You asked, making him give a raspy huff in amusement. “I got you, everything else is just details and drug paraphernalia” he said, making you smile warmly as you chuckled once again at his corny line before leaning up and kissing him once more.

It wasn’t long before silence fell over the room long enough to hear the music playing from the jukebox once more. Once again, as if someone had been listening, it was a rather slow, very romantic song playing through the speakers.

Blue moon you saw me standing alone.

Without a dream in my heart,

Without a love of my own.

Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for.

You heard me saying a prayer for,

Someone I really could care for.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold.

I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me”

You smiled into it as you both very quickly got swept back up into the moment with each other, his hands traveling the expanse of your curves slowly and softly, mapping out the valleys and plains of your body and to feel you against him. A mischievous grin took the place of the more innocent smile as you pulled away, gently pushing Hancock back to sit on his bed. He gave an equally mischievous grin and chuckle at your actions as you separated enough to take his hands and use them to slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders, allowing it to begin to fall down your frame. He gave a chuckle before whistling once it slipped from you, sitting in a red pool on the floor, leaving you in just your underwear as you stepped out of the discarded dress and straddled his lap on the bed.

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold!

Blue moon!

Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

He grinned, his hands resting on your hips as yours sat on his collarbones, pulling him into another heated kiss. “Fuck…” was all he could manage to mutter into it, making you giggle as your hands wandered his frame. You smiled as you pulled back to enjoy the almost drunk look on his face as he drank you in. It was as if he didn’t know where to look or touch first, he was normally smooth and suave when it came to this sort of thing, but you were different than the rest. “You’ve got a wonderful way of making this ol’ ghoul feel like her old self again with that look” you replied, making him chuckle before clearing his throat. “What’s not to like there, sunshine? All I see is a badass, very beautiful woman sitting in front of me” he said, moving his hips against you and that told you all you needed to know as you chuckled before littering kisses down his scarred neck. “It ain’t exactly pretty underneath all this, you sure you still wanna do this?” He asked, making you look back up at him. “You kidding? Of course I do. Looks ain’t everything ya know” you said, making him laugh. “Says the model” he quipped, and you had to admit that it was sweet that he regarded you that way, but you knew you were no model. What you were though was true to your words when you undid the buttons to his undershirt and coat. You gave a laugh at his flirtation. “Yeah, maybe if a model spent too much time in a tanning bed” You replied, making him chuckle as you continued to litter your kisses down his chest after disposing of his top and coat, then down his stomach, and soon to where his pants sat at his hips. “Still gorgeous all the same to me” he said, and that made your heart flutter in your chest to hear. You couldn’t help the smile that painted your lips as you situated yourself on your knees between his legs.

Damn what a sight it was he’d thought to himself, seeing you on your knees before him, eagerly undoing the flag he used as a belt to free him from them and his briefs. You grinned up at him, getting them down and off, doing the same with your underwear, then happily taking your seat back on his lap. He gave a playful tap against your ass as you got situated, enjoying the nice handful that most ghouls weren’t blessed to still have once they’d reached this point. “I think you’re very handsome, John” you said genuinely, and god he could just melt from your compliments and tone. A moan rips from both of your throats as you grind against him, your slick cunt gliding along his length. “Fuck, oh no sweet cheeks, we’re doing this the right way” he said, making you cock your head to the side confused before he picked you up and put you on your back on the bed. You gave a playful yelp as he did before giggling as your back hit the mattress. “Wanna feel you and taste you first, get you all worked up. Somethin’ tells me you’re a sight to see when you’re all crazy for me” he said, making you swear you could actually blush for once as you let out a way louder moan than you meant to when one of his fingers grazed up and down your slit and found your clit almost immediately, drawing tight circles. Your hand clasped to your mouth immediately, knowing the walls were likely paper thin, but John seemed to have a better solution. He moved your hand away, leaning down to pull you into a heated kiss once more, muffling your moans to where they were just loud enough for him and him alone. It had been so long since you’d felt the touch of another, your scars usually keeping you from finding someone to help scratch that itch. There was the occasional crazy you’d run into that were hell-bent on trying to sleep with a ghoul to find out what it was like. You avoided those people the best you could because something told you that necrophilia didn’t exactly sit very highly on their never to do lists.

Soon his fingers moved down to prod at your entrance, pushing in slowly to allow you the chance to accommodate the intrusion. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his roughly textured fingers began to piston in and out of you in a steady rhythm, sure to graze your walls to find that spongy bundle of nerves that would leave you crying his name. “Fuck, John…” you moaned, earning a low gravely groan from him. The way you said his name so salaciously went straight to his cock and made his head swim with all the ideas of how he could get you to say his name like that more. Soon his lips mimicked what you’d started earlier on him, trailing down your neck, stopping to tease and nip at your sensitive spots before moving down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your arms flew to cling around him, nails digging small crescent shapes into his back as you bit your lip so hard you were scared it would bleed. You were far more sensitive than you thought you’d be, even after ghoulification, apparently the loss of touch still left you as needy as before. “So good for me” he praised, making you whimper as his kisses dipped lower and lower. “Wanna taste you. Gotta know if you taste as sweet as you sound” he said, shifting in between your legs, kissing the insides of one of your thighs leading up to your sex before skipping to your other one, leaving you on edge. “John, don’t tease…” you mewled, making him chuckle at how eager you were. “You’re so cute, hard not to when you sound like that, sunshine” he replied before seeing just how wet you were for him. A sound of intrigue left him as he looked at his fingers once he withdrew them from you. “Tell me, this all for me?” He asked, pulling his fingers out and showing you your slick that clung to his fingers as he separated them, making you whine as you shake your head. “Yes, all for you John, please…” you begged, making him smirk as his fingers slid back inside of you with little resistance, and his tongue finally making contact against your sensitive clit. Your body arched off the bed for a moment, biting back another loud cry as his tongue started to circle your clit. “Fuck! Oh my god” you let out, making him chuckle as the pads of his fingers found your g-spot, rubbing it as his tongue drew all sorts of letters and shapes along your sensitive bud. Your breathing started to turn ragged, your mind blank, you could hardly think of anything other than the whispered expletives and cries of his name that left your lips like a mantra. “Keep sayin’ my name sweetheart, tell ‘em who makes you feel this good” he said with a cocky grin as he dove back into you like a man starved. To think, he could’ve had this the entire time you’d been traveling together, he was at least lucky to have it now.

“Just like that, just like that! Fuck…” you moaned, feeling the ache in your lower stomach start to burn and grow taut. It had been so long since you’d been with someone, and even longer since you’d been with someone who actually could help you reach your peak. Your hips began to buck selfishly against his fingers and tongue, making him moan into you as you used him. “That’s it baby, use me. Wanna hear that pretty mouth moan my name when you cum” he said, making you focus on chasing that high, god you were so fucking close, you could feel it. He peered up at you, watching as your face contorted with pleasure, calculating and changing his movements based on your expressions and sounds. You gasped as he started to draw tight circles around your clit with his tongue, curling his fingers inside of you to rub your g spot once more. “John I…fuck, I think I’m gonna- John!” You moan in warning the best you could before your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, sending your back arching off the bed and your thighs squeezing and trapping his head between your legs. He moaned into you as your body was savaged by what felt like every nerve ending lighting on fire all at once. He couldn’t care less if you suffocated him like this, even with no nose to get caught or crushed, he’d consider it an honorable way to go out. You tried to steady your breathing as best you could, finding it hard to open your eyes even, but when you did, you realized he was still trapped between your legs. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry!” You apologized, opening your legs to let him free and breathe, whining as his fingers left you with that disappointingly empty feeling. “Don’t you dare apologize, being crushed between these is one hell of a dream come true” he said, making you roll your eyes playfully and laugh at his response. Your hand reached out to yank him back up onto the bed, finding your spot once again straddling him. He groaned low in his throat as your hands stroked him, his one hand resting on your hip, squeezing every now and again. “Drivin’ me crazy here sunshine, might just be enough to make me turn feral if you’re not careful” he said, making you chuckle as you kissed him once more, your taste still heavy on his tongue but you didn’t care. You delighted in the moans coming from him as your tongues fought for dominance over each other. Your head dipped into the crook of his neck, peppering kisses along his neck and collarbone. “Need you so bad, John” you said, voice no louder than a breathless whisper as he chuckled. “I dunno, judging by your reaction I figured my mouth was enough. I’m just kiddin’. Think you can handle it, sweet cheeks?” He asked, making you grin as you lined him up to your entrance, slowly working your way down onto his member. “You tell me” you challenged in response as he stretched you open, fuck it’s really been a long time. “Touché- fuuucckk. Goddamn baby…” he groaned as your needy cunt slowly sucked him in, careful to stop once he’d fully sheathed inside of you. “Fuck…” you panted, feeling him fill you entirely, his tip nudging the apex of your cervix.

“It’s uhh…it’s been quite a while since the last time I did this, but I wanna make you feel good” you said, and that ruined him entirely. How could someone so sweet be speared on his cock right now? He’d never know but he’d thank every god out there until the end of his days for it. “That’s alright baby, just not sure I have it in me to be gentle or stop once I’ve started there sugar” he said, grabbing your hips to help you start a good pace, leaving you to moan loudly as his cock nudged your cervix. “Don’t care, gentle can come some other time. Fuck, you feel so good…” you moaned as you met his hips with your own thrusts, taking over and setting the pace as you bounced up and down on his lap. “Love the way you think babe. Shit… tell me what you need sunshine” he said between pants and the sounds of your hips slapping together. “Need you, need you so bad John, please” you begged, trying your best to keep quiet but you both knew that ship sailed a while ago. Whenever your legs grew tired, he was there to grip your hips and help you move, making your eyes roll once again to the back of your head as you’d moan. When you would tip your head back, he’d lean his forward to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking at it to pull you closer to the edge.

He pistoned his hips up into you, all sense of restraint and control lost in the feeling of your gummy walls wrapped tightly around him. You gasped as you felt that sensation in your lower stomach again, getting tighter and tighter as he worked you both to your peak. “Yes! Fuck, so close, don’t stop!” You moaned, making him chuckle deviously. “Wouldn’t dream of it sugar, feel too good to stop” he replied through gruff grunts and soft moans into your shoulder before parting to look down to where your bodies were connected and watch as he disappeared inside of you. “Look at that, that’s a pretty sight” he said, praising the way you’d take all of him with ease and the way your thighs would jiggle as you hungrily bounced on his dick. His eyes raked up your frame to rest on your face, delighted to find your eyes rolled back once your were seated on him, then half lidded when you’d come up, and that happily little cock-drunk smile on your lips before it’d drop to let out a blissful moan. You were music to his ruined ears, and like the chems he took before this, he just couldn’t get enough. His thumb found your clit once more, earning a surprised jump and moan from you as he rubbed it to help you tip over the edge. He couldn’t just let himself cum before his girl did, what kind of man would that make him? Not a very good one at all, he reasoned. Before you knew it, you were toppling over that edge again, holding tightly onto him as your walls spasmed and fluttered around him before squeezing him tightly, making him moan as your release sparked his own. He moaned into your neck as you threw your head back with a lascivious moan, enjoying the pleasant sensation of him filling you up whilst his hands held you seated in his lap. You gave a contented hum, enjoying the feeling of being so full of love, of him. You smiled as he looked back up at you, kissing you sweetly and gently as if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you with his cum leaking down your thighs. He was a man of many capabilities, and certainly was one capable of making you happy in many different ways.

“And to think, I’d been missin’ out on all this this whole time” he joked, making you laugh as you got up to fetch a wet rag to clean yourself and him off with. “Well, now you know” you teased, a grin resting on your face as he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind. He rested his chin along your shoulder as you stood in the connected bathroom, debating on whether you wanted to have a nice bath, or if you just wanted to lay in bed and cuddle with him to bask in the after glow. “Don’t know which is more addicting; you, or the chems” he said, knowing damn well that you were far more addicting to him but he enjoyed the playful way it’d get you to respond. “Tough competition, guess I’ll have to let you do me as often as the chems” you said, looking at him from over your shoulder and making him laugh at your dirty comment. “Don’t threaten me with a good time” he said, mischief evident in his tone as you felt something press against your rear. With the devious glint in his eyes and a grin to match, he led you back to his bed. Clearly he needed to test your offer.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout smut #fallout x reader #fallout 4 companions #john hancock x reader #john hancock #John Hancock x reader smut #john hancock smut #asks #Spotify

[sweet-dreams-internal-screams]

Anniversary💕

EthanxFemreader

Y’all are fiends💀 (it’s me I’m y’all)

Warnings⚠️ swearing mean/insecure!reader kinda, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk sub!ethan, praise

Ethan followed Y/N into her apartment as she stormed into her bedroom not saying a word to the curly haired boy. He grimaced as a shut the door behind him, still unsure of what he did wrong but by tension that filled the room as Y/N walked back in her Pjs Ethan didn’t want to know.

He tried to recall his day to the best of his abilities. He’d texted Y/N when he first woke up, gone to his classes for the day and then back to his dorm to hang with Chad. Ethan was stumped and he hated nothing more than to see her upset with him.

Y/n however was a silent as a rock, making little movements around her apartment. She had cleaned up out of frustration, not wanting to look Ethan in the eyes. She then stepped into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of popcorn and plopped onto the couch, turning on the television, still not acknowledging the boy.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently sitting close to her, he was in fear that she’d get up and leave but she stayed still focused on the TV as her arm extended out to the calendar on the wall, today’s date marked in a Purple Heart: 3 month anniversary w E.

Oh god

Ethan groaned at this sight knowing he’d forgotten the date they were planned to go on. He could almost kick himself as he turned back to Y/n, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. Ethan turned to face her and placed his hand on her knee. “It’s our anniversary.” “Sure is! How’d you know?” “Y/n, baby I’m so sorry it slipped my mind completely!” “That’s what every girl LOVES to hear Ethan!” She said rolling her eyes. Ethan sputtered out more apologies then Y/N turned to face him. “I’m not trying to be insecure but how am I not supposed to feel like that if you forget things like this? I really care about you and to not hear from you all day and because you forgot about something really important to me…E, it fucking sucks.” She said turning away from the boy. Ethan sighed as she stood and announced to was going to bed. Y/n walked into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. Ethan stuck his head in his hands as he stood, knowing he’d fucked up.

Y/n was opening up the blankets as Ethan walked in, he grabbed her hands and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her against his chest. “M’ so so sorry baby, there’s no excuse but I really am, I love you Y/n and never want you to feel like this ever again.” He murmured into her chest. Y/n looked up at him with softened gaze and nodded. “I love you baby I really do.” He said. Y/n stood on her tiptoes to reach the tall boy and softly pecked his lips. “I love you too Eth.” She said. Ethan wrapped his hands around her face and began placing longing kisses on her lips. His hands sliding down to her hips, gripping them tightly. He the hoisted Y/N up, as her legs wrapped around his midsection as they continued to kiss, slightly pulling on her lower lip to open her mouth up to him.

Ethan moaned ever so slightly as he kissed Y/n, backing up onto the bed he moved his hands onto Y/Ns ass as he attacked her neck, sucking on the patch right behind her ear, causing her hips to buck up into him. He continued to mark her until he turned so Y/N on the bed now and he was in front of her. “Please let me make it up to you baby.” He whispered, playing with the waistband of her pants. She nodded and began to remove her pants, earning a small push from Ethan as he did it himself, then using his teeth to remove her underwear. The cold hitting Y/N’s middle section as Ethan traced her body with a finger. He muttered small praises to her. Ethan trailed all they way right before the opening of Y/n stopping to hold her knees open. He then began to kiss and suck on her thighs leaving marks that would only be visible to someone with access to Y/Ns lower half, which no one did, except Ethan.

After his explicit teasing, which was not necessary in said situation, Ethan finally aligned his mouth with Y/n, sucking and licking lines as moans leave her lips. Keeping his eyes hooked on Y/n as he continues to rave across her, taking any opportunity to lick inside her. “M’sorry, m’so sorry my perfect girl, I love you, so pretty and wet for me baby.” He hummed into her as Y/Ns hips bucked into Ethan, his nose aligning with her clit. “Fuck Ethan!” She yelled, her legs locking around Ethan’s shoulders as she gripped the bedsheets in any attempt to hold onto her anticipation. Just as the familiar feeling started to burning in her stomach, Ethan slid two fingers into Y/n as he locked his lips onto her clit, flicking his tongue against her. Y/Ns back arched as her moans got louder and more aggressive mixed with pants, finally coming and falling back into the pile of pillows behind her.

“Fuck baby, forget our anniversary more often.” “Absolutely not, I’ll be gray and old and celebrate our 100th.” “If it makes you feel any better I forgive you.” “Im glad, but if I ever fuck up again, I’ll know what to do.”

Ethan kissed up her thighs again, reminiscing about the marks he’d left on her earlier while he licked up the mess he made on Y/n. He then went into her bathroom and let the faucet run while he wet a washcloth, returning to clean Y/n a bit more before sliding a new pair of underwear he’d gotten from her drawer. She stared at this boy who just looked back at her with the sweetest smile and soft eyes. Ethan the crawled up into bed spooning his girl.

“You’re telling me you’re not going feral right now?” “I never said that but tonight and tomorrow are about you baby.”

Ethan then rested his face in the crook of her neck wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep.

A/N: I’m so kind for releasing this early since it’s my birthday but here it is! Charlie will be out on Thursday and Chad on Next Tuesday !!

#ethan landry #scream 6 #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 2023 #charlie walker #chad meeks martin #ethan landry smut

[ofbreathandflame]

will delete later but imma gonna rant bc i can and yall be sending me these things knowing im gonna snap but HEY i guess ill take over hate.💀

you know, when we said that cassian was abusive in acosf, and that his behavior was not only unromantic, but very much parallel to the way tamlin treated feyre in maf -- we were met with contention. it was ‘cassian is the best bat boy!” “how can you hate cassian” and “you guys always find problems” 

but if when the conversation becomes something like nessian >>> feysand or cassian >>> rhysand then suddenly all of the red flags that cassian showed in sf and even in acowar become apparent. then you guys can point out the problems in the hike, how cassian treated nesta horribly, wasn’t attentive. how cassian sexualized her body, and used her body, how he wouldn’t even give nesta sugar even though she was literally suffering through something adjacent to an eating disorder, where she wasn’t eating or practicing self-hygiene. now you see how he doesn’t tell nesta that she is loved, how he calls her out of her name, how he repeatedly disrespects her boundaries.

it is abuse. say it with me: a b u s e. 

it was easy for y’all to blame the 25 y/o and not the 530+ y/o who personally saw himself in charge of her mental health journey, against her wishes, locked in her in the house with him, and then made sexual comments about her while continually isolating every part of her life, and having her do things on behalf of the court and the library with no money. 

and then y’all argued that more responsibility should be placed on nesta and not the immortal man who literally put himself in charge of every aspect of her life. that nesta somehow deserved that bc she was difficult. that argument is deranged. i don’t give a shit how ‘difficult’ nesta was,’ she is still the victim. that you guys believe other wise belies a fundamental understanding of abuse and domestic violence 

and it wasn’t like writing a 2000+ words of textual evidence, scene by scene parallels was enough -- nah. all we have to do is realign the conversation a character v. character debate and suddenly it becomes very clear. 

and as i said, i always fucking knew y’all saw the problems, even when y’all called them ridiculous. but if the conversation was removed of y’all hate for nesta and recontextualized as a feysand v. nessian argument all of a sudden you guys can see the abuse. its absolutely disgusting. 

and even then, the acknowledgement of these issues is only because you want to laugh at nesta for being in that abusive predicament. because of course these issues only matters when your trying to prove a tit-for-tat point about what batboy is better. cassian was abusive. the hike was one of the most disgusting act of abuse in that book.

and this matters bc literally we watched a man -- a famous actor -- sue the woman who he abused, and then have the whole world argue that she deserved the abuse because she was a difficult woman. we saw her sa be mocked, her trauma dubbed ‘not realistic enough bc thats not how real victims act, we saw people fandomize a grown real life man (a HASBEEN) and it has now set a trend where abusers are suing their victims arguing the SAME argument, it matters. we watched as  RAPE threats were suddenly ‘okay’ bc the victim was ‘difficult’ that the 20 something y/o somehow how more power and money than the the man twice her age, with triple the funds. 

 y’all are absolutely disgusting and i will NEVER take any of u anti nesta people seriously like y’all are nasty people. 

y’all tried. 

#anti cassian #not a safe place for him and his ppl #anti acosf #anti sjm: nesta archeron #anti sjm: pro nesta

[reveluving]

hold me closely ; rick flag x reader

summary: 'cool, calm & collected' is how many describe the Flags, and they're right. to a certain degree, at least. (a.k.a some of your & Rick's favourite convos in the family group chat)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff & humour (ft twin sons Ethan & Richie, daughter Irene & Tofu the cat!)

a/n: made sumn for my rick babes (+ s/o to my girl @lacontroller1991​ for the cutest hubby rick ask??? ily) so enjoyed imagining what it’s like to be his wifey and mother of kids eeee <33 love y’all!! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

disclaimer!! despite the face claims (joy from rv btw) & running theme here, you are highly encouraged to imagine yourself or your oc as the MC however you see fit!

» wanna read more rick flag fics or anyone by joel kinnaman? check out my j.k. m.list!

↳ january 19th ༉‧₊˚✧

me 🌸 : how's Tofu, kids?

richie : [ sent 3 photos ]

mister e : pretty gud mom

me 🌸 : ??? the last photo??

my beloved ❤️ : @.mister e what did we tell you about putting Tofu on your head

mister e : i told richie it was a bad idea but he didn’t listen 😔

richie : ??? u literally suggested the idea??? 🤨

↳ march 21st ༉‧₊˚✧

me 🌸 : have u guys seen the package i brought in this morning? i ordered a pillow for your sister

richie : [ sent 3 photos ]

richie : dw we gave it to her already

mister e : Tofu also conquered the box just so you guys know

↳ june 5th ༉‧₊˚✧

my beloved ❤️ : store’s got vanilla ice cream but it’s not the one you asked for. is it still okay @.me 🌸?

me 🌸 : more than okay! tq ❤❤

mister e : nvm we bought like, 9 different kinds

mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]

me 🌸 : ? how???

richie : dad drove us to four different stores lol

my beloved ❤️ : i still don't think it's enough

↳ july 4th ༉‧₊˚✧

richie: [ sent 3 photos ]

[ my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]

[ mister e reacted with a ‘ 🎉 ’ ]

[ you reacted with a ‘ 🥰 ’ ]

↳ july 22nd ༉‧₊˚✧

richie : what do you guys call a fake noodle?

me 🌸 : what?

richie : an impasta

[ my beloved ❤️ has removed richie from the group ]

me 🌸 : RICK

my beloved ❤️ : it’s a little funny, i admit

mister e : heh

my beloved ❤️ : you wanna join your brother, too?

mister e : no sir 🚶

↳ august 6th ༉‧₊˚✧

mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]

mister e : richie, irene and i @ the aquarium + ice-cream and bookstore after

[ you and my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]

richie : hope the dinner’s going well!

me 🌸 : [ sent 2 photos ]

my beloved ❤️ : [ sent 2 photos ]

my beloved ❤️ : it's going amazing. thank you boys 😌

» juuust in case you're still confused: 'my beloved ❤' is Rick, 'mr e' is Ethan & 'richie' is, well, Richie!

» ❛ fun lil’ trivia about the flags ༉‧₊˚

Irene and the twins have an eight-year age gap!

Richie’s full name is Richard Flag the Third.

Although identical, Richie has certain mannerisms that resemble his father. The same case applies to Ethan, the younger twin, who picks up more of your quirks. Despite that, Richie, usually the photographer of the group, encourages (and even adds to) Ethan’s odd photo ideas.

Sporty ahh kids. All three of them. Need I say more?

» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #not just hubby rick #but PAPA rick #AKA HUBBY + FATHER!RICK IF I HAVEN'T MADE MYSELF CLEAR #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x you #colonel rick flag x reader #colonel rick flag #rick flag #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fluff #colonel flag #tss 2021 #tss #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman x reader #reveluving #also; its titled after an exo lyric 🚶🏻‍♀️ iykyk

[skzeuphoria-blog]

Okay okay okay so what about like pussy drunk Jisung who absolutely w r e c k s you when you’re too incoherent to do anything, or he’s the first person to ever finger/eat you out and it’s in his studio (the fingering/eating you out) bc you’re just the tiniest bit needy and too tempting for him to focus on his work. Or the most dominant lee know with a pain kink that becomes a problem bc like a paper cut is bad news and the two of you try to keep it a secret from the members as to why you go missing for a bit after he stubs his toe or hits his hand on smt, until he ends up somehow cutting his hand while chopping vegetables (which isn’t supposed to happen bc it’s Minho), and it’s a HUGE problem bc he gets so incredibly horny that you’ve barely pulled out the Bandai’s before he’s fingering the hell out of you and the members find out bc they hear y’all banging I’m sorry this is so long😭

omg first of all tysm for requesting this!! you're legit the first person to do so and im so sorry if i'm late to answering this. i deleted the app and i had stuff going on and completely forgot to check tumblr... also fair warning this is my second time EVER writing something like this so i have ZERO experience but keep the ideas coming tyty!! this is very rushed because I wanted to get something out to you and i had no idea in what style to write so i just put something together quickly and you can always request something else anyway....

I absolutely love the idea of going over to Jisung's apartment to "study" (you had a wet dream the night before and was kind of needy) and to get some "help" (you want to get touched sexually) by Jisung.

You'd open up your textbooks and computer but within 10 minutes you were already staring at Jisung, imagining your dirty fantasies that you didn't even know you had before.

You weren't a prude but you've never had the opportunity to act out any fantasies even small ones due to a lack of boyfriends.

You noticed your cheeks burning up and looked away quickly trying to open another textbook but as you were doing that you knocked a glass full of water over, causing it to spill all over the floor. You'd gasped and say, "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! It was an accident I swear" Jisung would laugh in response saying that it was okay and he knew you were clumsy. You'd hurry to the kitchen to get paper towels and run back. As you would bend over, wiping the floor dry Jisung could catch a glimpse of your ass (and the wet spot that was starting to form).

He'd soon, too, would start to imagine you bending over and him fucking you raw, telling you to focus on your task but the feeling of Jisung being in you raw would be too much and you'd start telling me to go faster and harder.

Jisung would inevitably get uncomfortable by the growing tent in his pants and trying to cover it up with a pillow from the couch.

You'd look over at him and wondered why he looked so flustered and red.

Jisung would groan, throwing his head back "Ah Y/N, I can't take it anymore, this is too much." Jisung would definitely be cocky towards you and very straightforward. No beating around the bus with Jisung. Direct is the way to go.

He'd reveal his bulge he's been hiding under a pillow and you'll look at him with the most innocent angel eyes that always drove him crazy.

He'd tell you to come over and sit next to him. At that point, you were like putty, willing to do anything for Jisung. He had you (and your pussy soon) wrapped around his finger.

He would tell you to remove your clothes and in less than 5 seconds they would be off of you and on his floor.

He'd maintain eye contact as he would tease the entrance to your pussy, making you gasp. You'd quietly ask for more but he'd tell you to speak up like a good girl. Saying it louder, he'd oblige and put his whole finger in slowly, making you gasp even louder.

He'd look at you intensely, his finger going in out, exploring every inch of your insides making you moan.

To Jisung, your moans were the prettiest music he's ever heard. He'd love to hear them on repeat.

Begging him to go faster, gripping his body, he would oblige and go faster. You'd moan and say a curse of strings that Jisung would get turned on by. He loves it when your pretty mouth curses.

You'd finally cum on finger, shaking all over.

THERE IDK WHAT I WROTE SORRY ALSO IT WASNT TOO LONG IT'S JUST LATE AND IM TIRED BUT I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS ASAP

#skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #jisung scenarios #han jisung #han jisung smut #jisung smut #stray kids #han jisung x you #han jisung skz #jisung x reader #jisung imagines

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Summary: an episode taking place after “Three Way Script”

Warnings: talks of still born children, suggestions of threesomes, consensual infidelity and polyamory

Notes: gosh I’ve been off here so long and yet I’m still clogged with love notes! How’d i get so lucky? This fandom truly is the sweetest, most gushing and loving imaginable and each of you are dear to me and I miss you all. Europe has seemed to swallow me as I’m over for another month I had not anticipated. That’s ok. It’s that’s great in fact but I’m whooped and tired and missing the chance to make believe with y’all. Here’s a little resurgence in that, thanks for your patience and please, please, please keep spamming me all you want in my inbox and dms as I adore it and it helps me feel included even as I’m a little preoccupied with work right now. Xoxo🌹

Cautions: this was written and not edited a bit, wahooo

Anne’s The Name

Ann-Margret was rather used to being ambushed outside her dressing room by the occasional stray autograph seeker, an entitled producer or five anticipating more, or co-stars looking for a drink after shooting to wind down the chemistry of the day.

As of yet, she’d never been met by a wife.

But there she was, Elaine. Never having met her before didn’t afford Ann even a split second of ignorance. She knew who she was. Mrs. Presley was unmistakable, even when playing at being inconspicuous. Leaning against the stage wall in a somehow more provocatively natural stance than even her husband could manage, those long legs freshly tanned against a pink shift skirt and the elegant length of her -she was slimmer than the papers showed her, what with this baby making hiatus- topped off by chocolate curls getting whipped around her like the studio’s wind tunnel was a paid employee. More deadly still was when the opened door attracted her attention and that pretty pearl adorned neck turned to face Ann, that stunner of a face entirely full of curiosity and maybe…mischief?

Ann was too startled to be certain.

Startled by her sudden appearance, startled by the prettiness of her, startled by the lack of venom anywhere to be found on that compelling face, the lips of which were quirking up in a undeniable smirk of teasing enjoyment. She was enjoying Ann’s dumbfounded, half cocked, partway out the door, frozen in place shock. Somehow this was neither the self sacrificing Saint not irate Madonna that Ann anticipated maybe one day being confronted by.

Instead she was being warmly appraised by heavily fringed eyes that glimmered gold in the late day’s sun. Like her merits for lover or playmate were being gauged. Ann wondered if the rumors were true, if Elvis had really taken a lump of clay and fashioned himself a wife in his own image, more identical and fitting than any rib shaped lady could aspire. That sense of danger and intrigue and knowing that had filled her on meeting Elvis came flooding over Ann again, unable to do more than curiously inspect Elaine as she turns towards her.

“Thumper?” Elaine’s voice is as soft and hopeful as it was coming across the telephone receiver weeks ago, “You are Ann, I believe?” she presses when Ann’s manner can’t play catch up with her overwhelming emotions and she remains frozen, halfway out her open door.

“Ela- Mrs. Presley!” she corrects, wincing at the fumble, utterly unsure now that she’s not being met with open hostility.

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elaine straightens up from the wall and click clacks over in her heels to stand opposite Ann, just an arms reach removed from each other and Ann thinks of what a pretty scene they’d make if this were scripted, one red and one brown, a flavor for each taste, matching in height and complimentary in build, facing off in a tunnel. “It’s just I managed to give Esposita the slip and E’s gonna be busy with the studio dubbing and I’m no use at all. I thought I’d wrestle up a friend while I was free.” Elaine’s beaming smile dims the longer Ann stalls for time and etiquette, “Or-or if you’re not free, I understand, I at least wanted to say hello. I’m going to be in the city for a little while and didn’t want to be bumping along into you some day without having sought you out.”

Ann wondered if Elvis asked her to come, if Ann and her inventive ways to have sex without having sex wasn’t quite cutting it and he had caved and called the wife. Or if Elaine had heard Ann’s voice over the telephone and gathered from the whole sleepwalking debacle that it was high time to reel him and his affairs in. Or maybe the colonel had seen the papers, Heda Hopper’s column in particular stating that Elvis was taking a shine to his red headed mirror, and sent the wife down for damage control. The only thing is, Ann was sure that the Colonel was thick as thieves with Hedda, much to Elaine’s distress no doubt, and he loved every bit of publicity that Elvis’ wayward eyes could drum up.

Family men didn’t sell, after all. Ann had certainly played her part in his playboy reconstruction with convincing aplomb.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog of Ann’s concerns and suddenly she’s able to find her voice as she starts to tip over,

“No, I-I’m a little dizzy.” Ann admits, just as Elaine’s arms and a wall barely manage to keep her from face planting on the cement.

-I’m a little dizzy and I love your husband and you’re here to distract him and I’m awful aren't I?! but I couldn’t help it, if you love him as much as you say you’ll understand I couldn’t help it, I can’t help loving him-

“Woah, woah, have you eaten?” Elaine asks solicitously as she keeps Ann standing upright against the wall by an iron grip around her waist and under her arm. Anne winces at what she knows is the tacky feel of her sticky underarm pit cradled by Elaine Presley’s perfectly manicured hand. Why did she have to wear a yellow shift dress today of all days? She can feel Elaine’s fingers rubbing at the tassel on the waist, soothing her the same way Elvis does. By touch, gentle in a way that belies the ease with which she holds her upright. The woman is terribly strong for looking so delicate and there’s suddenly a great deal of logic to Elvis’ starry eyed submissiveness regarding his doll faced wife -Elaine is imposing when she gets her hands on you.

Embarrassment floods Ann next, blushing hot and dewy at being caught so weak in front of a woman the world would say she’s wronged. Heat replaces the cold and clammy dizziness of before and she struggles upright against the wall, getting her feet to work for her, stamping the heels a little to get a strong footing. Elaine doesn't budge in her grip on her, still looking concerned and gentle -god, she’s as comfortable with closeness as he is.

“Matter of fact I have neglected eating.” Ann chuckles weakly, puffing at the hair that’s fallen over her forehead and into her eyes, Elaine swipes it away when the directed huff proves ineffective against hairspray laden locks. “It’s been so hot and -and we had a dance scene, kept having to repeat it and -and so many takes. I got a little nauseous from the heat. I forgot to have lunch.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, poor thing.” Elaine tsks, “Makes folks sick and then they don’t want what they actually need. Happens to the kids on the beach all the time, it’s like bargaining with Castro trying to get Jesse out of the ocean to hydrate.” Ann finds herself chuckling at the mental image of this familial anecdote before she realizes she is chuckling at stories about Elvis’ kids. Should she say her condolences for Joe now? Should she even admit she knows as much as she does? “We should get some meat in you. Water, too.” Elaine decides her course for her, “Do you wanna go back in there to rest for a minute?” she points at the dressing room Ann just exited, “Or we can make a dash for my car and find ourselves a bite?”

What either of these options unspokenly state is that Ann will be spending her evening with Elaine, one way or another. If she’s gonna get throttled for being an adulteress she'd rather it be in a drive-in-diner and not some stuffy back-lot dressing room.

“I think I can manage the dash.” she answers agreeably because that’s what Elaine seems to illicit in her -agreeableness.

And as she finds herself tugged by the hand across the mostly empty parking lot, Ann wonders where that ornery streak she’s made her fame on has gone to. Maybe it’s the dehydration that has tuckered her out. Maybe it’s how Elaine acts like she’s her mother in a way that not even her own mother could make so charming.

Elaine is going to get her burgers and water and make her head less fuzzy. It’s been such a while since anyone met her needs so eagerly that Ann finds herself giggling as they race across the wavering hot asphalt, their heels echoing like clopping tattletales and Ann thinks it’s such a lark right as she tips over the convertible caddy’s door into the plush leather passenger seat.

The convertible is pink, because Elvis bought it for his wife and didn’t bother to ask her what her favored color would be, it was just understood that Mrs. Presley would like a pink Cadillac.

Ann is positive that’s how it went, she doesn’t even need to ask Elaine for the story as Elaine cranks the engine up while flipping the visor forward to tip out a pair of cat-eye shades in what strikes Ann as a strangely masculine getsure of proficiency. It makes Ann want to fan herself at the subtext of this woman having hung around Elvis Presley long enough to have picked up his impossibly cool mannerisms by osmosis.

That right there is intimacy. That right there is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. That’s a wife.

Ann doesn't know what to do with the rush of appreciation she feels towards what ought to be a nemesis as this cool gal who shields her knowing brown eyes behind tortoise rimmed glasses and flicks on the radios right as a crowd of studio workers begins to swamp the strange duo in their flashy ride.

The song choice by the DJ is downright unfortunate. Surrounded as they are by photographing fans and coworkers, there is nothing for them to do after Elaine’s manicured finger flicks the switch and the mournful rockabilly of Runaround Sue blasts as a ironically perfect soundtrack for the missus taking the side chick out for burgers.

Elaine’s gutsy laugh of recognition at the intro wailing “woaaaah woaaaah woaaaah” tells Ann she appreciates the irony just as much but the woman just waves at the crowd and revs the motor in a fake threat of running over a few studio heartthrobs who are draped over her caddy front trying to get a closer shot.

“If I change it now they’ll read into it more.” Elaine remarks to Ann out the side of her unwavering smile and Ann thinks that’s a talent she wants to learn, damned useful looking like you’re grinning while making conversation.

-‘ask any man that she ever knew, he’ll say keep away from a runaround sue, oh yeah, woaaaaaah”-

Elaine’s french tipped fingers thump out a corresponding rhythm on the pink lacquered steering wheel while surveying the mess of attraction they’ve brought down on themselves in the sweltering parking lot before playfully reaching for the wipers and flicking on the spray with bemused cruelty.

It’s strangely attractive, this distanced bemusement of hers and it fills Ann with notions of thanking Elaine for being a little nasty, something she never felt before for another soul. Suddenly those idiots who degrade themselves and get off in it make a little more sense as she watches the young bucks scramble off of Elaine’s shiny hood with soaked shirts and tented trousers.

“Sorry fellas, y’all were lookin’ overheated.” Elaine quips before the rest of the verbal sparring gets lost in the revv of the engine and they’re peeling out of the studio lot in a move that even Elvis would have found satisfyingly risky.

As it is, Ann lays her burning head back on the white leather seat and enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping her hair off her forehead as Elaine speeds them down Las Vegas roads that don’t tolerate a 75 mile an hour pace most times.

-“well I shoulda known it from the very start, that girl would leave me with a broken heart-“

The strip is truly lovely in the daylight and there’s a charm to it when viewed in the blur of a fast car and the veil of chocolate curls whipping around red painted lips.

“Was- that- did- did Robert Redford just wave you through his red light?” Ann splutters in disbelief at a lightning fast interaction at a four way stop that has Elaine’s head swiveling dangerously and a shark-like grin taking over her face.

“I think he did.” she replies with a guilty giggle and Ann wonders when the last time this woman got to be naughty without it being smothered right out of her the next second by a unfathomably possessive husband.

“A real good looking fella in the bright of day.” she ventures.

“He’s very blonde.” Elaine rejoins and Ann can’t help but laugh at that, at her partiality for dark haired men.

“Yes of course, you like yours so black they’re nearly blue.”

Elaine manages to swivel into their parking space in the drive-in diner with easy grace, the same sorta slide and swivel Ann imagines she’d use to scoot her body into a restaurant booth. “You’re forgetting who applies his hair dye.” she says with faux gravity that has Ann faltering for a moment until she sees her smirking, “And Jack’s not darkening up despite everyone’s predictions. I’m only saying that Redford is -“ Elaine doesn’t finish, she just shrugs and pulls the gear to park.

Noticing a star’s ride at first glance, an eager young waitress in her short skirt and rollerblades flys over and Elaine handles her and the order of five cheeseburgers and as many shakes with the same cooing authority she handled Ann with against the wall.

It sends Ann back to fidgeting, even more so when the girl takes off to plug in the order and Elaine turns the full weight of those perfectly lined eyes back at her and flicks up her sun glasses into her hair to study her closer. It lasts long enough that a blush burns Ann’s face and Elaine herself wonders if Elvis enjoys this girl’s charming unawareness of her own appeal.

Seemingly satisfied with her inspection for now, Elaine turns back in her seat and tilts the rear view mirror downwards to inspect the damage the wind did to her curls and upon catching sight of her face mutters,

“That man…” in a resigned drawl while dabbing away at a smudge of red lipstick out of her lip lines that could’ve only come about by a rather impassioned smooch. Ann figures Redford is not the man in question this time.

It makes Ann feel funny, the thought of having woken up in Elvis’ bed this morning and between then and seeing him again he’s already necked his wife. Necked her thoroughly by the looks of that finger fluffed hair. Anne recalls reading an article in the Whisper about Elaine’s perpetual state of tousled hair and bitten lips, a constant innuendo to what happens to the woman the minute the curtain drops on her picture perfect, wholesome and southern, utterly above reproach little family life. Elaine gets mauled by Elvis Presley, that’s what happens. Elvis who can play the gentleman all he wants during the mating dance but in the act itself promises nothing less than a full, thorough, beastly claiming of his woman.

“Wanna go in?” His wife is asking and it shouldn’t jar Ann as much as it does but she’s so lost in her head that it spooks her all the same and she ends up nodding mindlessly, trying to think about optics and failing to see how this could be anything but tragic for herself. “Alright but use the door handle this time, it’s got one.” Elaine snarks with a pretty little snarl of those red lips and Ann bashfully opens the caddy door properly this time instead of spilling over the side like a tomboy.

She’s still learning how to be what Hollywood wants her to be. Shedding her wholesome girl next door image for a sex kitten verve that hasn’t been entirely unnatural. But it takes a bit of balance as even sex kittens need some glamor, some poise and grace, even as they’re promisingly feral. It’s like tousled curls that hint at obscene amounts of public fuckery without being remotely indecent in itself. She watches Elaine swing open the diner door and wait with charming annoyance at Ann’s preoccupied dawdling. Being billed the “female Elvis” brought about the challenge of having to figure out what Elvis’ appeal even consisted of.

Getting to know the man…intimately…hadn’t made that any clearer. There was a mystique about him that she feared her own shy and frank nature could never manage to do more than a cheap imitation of. Now she was beginning to fear half of his appeal was the promise of his capability that was shown in Elaine Presley’s every move and smirk.

Asking his exquisitely poised and deliciously no-nonsense wife about it didn’t seem a smart move. Recovering from tripping over the curb like an awkward preteen, Ann ducks her head appreciatively for Elaine still holding the damn door open and slips inside the checkered diner.

It was teeth chattering cold in the leather booths after the heat of the ride and both Ann and Elaine found themselves shrinking from settling back into their seats, leaned forward instead with elbows on the table in a cozy pose but no topic of conversation to break the ice as they hovered in such close proximity.

“I thought this would be easier.” Elaine finally let out with a little huff and Ann couldn’t be sure if she was annoyed at her or the situation. “I thought we'd have a lot to talk about.” she explained with a hint of sadness that bewilders Ann. In response to her nonplussed face Elaine went on, “Why, you know…about…lord, our interests! Which as I hear of it consist of many of mine, motorcycles and dancing, my husband of course, and thumb sucking -to name a few.”

Ann inhaled her shake at the mention of that particular sex act, utterly unmoored at the notion he’d told his wife the actual detail. The fact the wife would tell it back.

Elaine was smiling at her coughing fit.

“He’s got such pretty fingers.” she commiserates without pausing in the assault as Ann wheezes

in a vanilla tinged breath, “It’s ingenious really, he said it worked a little too well.”

It had, that’s true, though Ann had never expected Elvis to leave her flat and call his wife up and tell her about how his young costar had cajoled him into rubbing himself to completion as she sucked his thumb in a pantomime of both fallatio and abstinence. Ann had never felt so filthy as she had when she’d watched a married man spew over his knuckles as he hooked his other thumb into her cheek at the same time, leaving her with a knowing smile, happy to keep her revved up and hungry for him for days after until he finally caved and-

“Makes me wanna try it.” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog and Ann is faced yet again with the fact that this woman seems to wanna chat about her husband's technical infidelity like two girls at a sleepover. She’s still waiting for the seething possessiveness and or vicious cutting down to size.

“Thank you for the flowers, that was -that was much too kind.” Ann gets it out, burdened in a way she hadn’t been before the bizarre need to be liked by Elaine Presley had taken root.

“Thanks for being good to him.” Elaine replies without missing a beat but in so low and earnest a tone it seems to warm the entire diner and the leather feels cozy.

“I’m so sorry about Joe.” Ann blurts with hoarse earnestness because the grief of it is choking her as she watches this woman dazzle and smile her way through a cataclysmic tragedy, the size of which has Elvis Presley himself trying to sleep walk to his death to end the pain of it.

An emotion, something very cold initially and then frighteningly intense, almost a little ugly in its horrifying struggle flits across, then threatens to crumple, Elaine’s poised features and Ann suddenly wishes her tongue had been cut out, she oughta be locked up and never let out in polite society again. She watches helplessly as Elaine’s mouth firms into a hard line even as her eyes grow wide and wild and begin glittering madly with what Ann realizes, almost too late, are unshed tears -and then those perfectly manicured hands fly up to hide a deluge of grief that melts that serene facade.

“I-I’m so sorry, I just -I just had to say it.” Ann hears herself whimpering out condolences and excuses and her hands fumble over the linoleum table top in a helpless gesture as Elaine’s hands are too busy shielding her famous face from the entire diner’s occupants as her shoulders shake in a terrible rhythm that is peculiar to stifled sobbing. “I’m just so horribly sorry for you, for both of you, all of you. And everybody goes on like it didn’t happen but I- I can’t imagine how awful that is, the ignoring of it. I-I didn’t think before I said anything I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Elaine.”

Ann watches as the sobs seem to slow, and then they still, and eventually, this young woman leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, face still hidden by her hands, one of which boasts that stupendously gaudy wedding band. Realizing there’s one thing she can mend, Ann reaches into her purse and digs out a hanky before pressing it against Elaine’s knuckles in a silent plea for her to use it.

It’s like witchcraft the way her face is entirely composed once those hands drop and the damp and smudged hanky is balled into her dainty fist. She’s looking straight past Ann at her surroundings, clocking her audience and even twisting a little in her seat to make certain no one’s overly enthralled by her lapse in perfection, it’s exhausting watching this haunted look of hunted excellence by, Ann can’t even imagine what it’s like living it. Suddenly Ann’s hands are being gripped and the woman’s fingers are burning hot and clammy and her eyes are boring into her own, seemingly satisfied that they are still anonymous enough for a little show of emotion and Elaine is murmuring in a husky whisper,

“Thank you, Thumper -you see, nobody talks about her. I-I -there’s no one I can talk to…about her.”

The fact that her own husband can’t even manage it but had to find a stranger to spill to instead strikes Ann with a fathomless guilt for taking that from Elaine, but it’s not as if she had elicited it! He came to Ann himself and what he spoke of she couldn't control. Still, actually getting to see the cracks in his wife’s soul from the loneliness of her grief is a different thing entirely and she is moved to make amends.

“You can always talk to me -if it helps.” she whispers and Elaine gives her a wincing smile.

“I don’t think anything will help.” Elaine replies with a moodiness that is both entirely understandable, if a little off putting in just how severe it is. And, forever the barometer of moods, as if sensing Ann’s unease with her glumness, Elaine perks up in a nauseatingly convincing display of cheer. “It’s just -I think that after Mrs. Kennedy lost her baby and all that sadness, the people just don’t have it in them to find much -interest, in the sad parts. They need happiness and, and courage from us.”

Elaine’s biting her lip in a vain attempt to make it stop wobbling and Ann wishes she could smack the American public for insisting these women, one the wife of the President and the other of the King, hold up a perfect little Camelot for them to read about every Sunday. It’s real lives, real lives grieving and straining and trying their best, real infants dying and golden couples struggling to regain intimacy beyond the midnight sobbing cuddle sessions that have taken the place of making love.

No money in the world is worth such a forced display of perfection in the face of such aloneness.

“You should worry about what you need right now.” Ann tells her what she told her husband the other night.

“Ah.” Elaine clicks her tongue doubtfully, “That’s all real well but I dunno what I need. But you -are you what Elvis needs? Hmm?”

Suddenly Ann wants to bolt again, throat tight and heart skipping a beat, “I-I don’t know.”

“How old are ya?” she asks like that is a natural progression in the conversation, as if Elaine is going to be the judge of wether it is beneficial for her husband to 69 his co-star in order to forget about his dead child.

“I’m twenty two.” It feels like a confession under that earnest eyed review.

“Lord.” Elaine bites off the head of a fry and Ann wishes she was a lil soaked potato crisp herself, that bemused meanness simmering to Elaine’s smooth surface again and turning Ann into a hot mess under her nylons. “And do you wanna get married, Miss Margret? You want kids and all that? Or is it the stage life for you?”

“No, I-I’d like kids, and I’d like to marry.” she insists, “Just not now -and not Elvis, of course not Elvis!”

“Well that’s good.” Elaine drawls sardonically, “Cause he’s taken and happy to be so.”

“Yes! Yes he loves you so much.” it’s a sort of masochism for Ann to admit that yet somehow she finds she doesn’t mind it.

“I know.” is all Elaine replies with, utterly unimpressed.

“So,” Ann finds this ordeal unbearable enough she might as well ask what’s been burdening her, “why did you wanna meet with me? Is- is he through with me?” The full scale of her own unease finally surfaces and she realizes she’s got cause to suspect Elaine of more than just being jealous. “Did he send you to do it? To break it off me with me?” she can’t help the way her voice raises in outrage, it may be misplaced but her love is not false and she doesn’t deserve this, he oughta man up and do his own dirty work.

Elaine doesn’t reply for a few beats that have Ann wringing her hands around her sweaty milk shake in suspense, curious as to why the woman doesn't take the easy route and admit it, crow over her -once again the straying husband has returned to her.

“This film has only got a couple of weeks left.” Elaine says instead in so measured a tone it slices Ann to the heart quicker than any boast, “But no, no he hasn’t sent me to do anything. I’m no one’s errand boy.”

“Of course not.” Ann mumbles in apology.

“But he has-“ Elaine’s mouth twists in distress over wording and every delay hurts Ann just a little more from suspense, “-Elvis has recommenced his interest in me.” that’s a positively hilarious way to say he banged his wife and not the side piece this afternoon and Ann hates her for her delicacy, and all the pain and complications it hides, “And the thing of it is, I’ve already noticed a waning of his preoccupation with you and -I’m just an observer. It’s what I do, I watch him and then I act on what he’s gonna do or what he’s gonna want. And, Ann, can I call ya Ann? Ann, I -I think he’s gonna try to move on from ya, when the movie wraps, like he’s moved on from the others.”

Ann bites at her straw and prays her jimmying leg beneath the table isn’t painfully obvious.

“I don’t want that.” Elaine states suddenly and Ann lets go of the poor, abused straw.

“What?”

“You’re not just some other gal, Thumper.” she rolls her eyes -fondly, unless Ann is greatly mistaken. “But I think he’d treat ya like one for me. I do think it’s what he intends to do. It’s -he said as much this afternoon…during.”

Ann’s cheeks flame hot from mortification and anger, but from something else too. An electric shock zapping through her at the unintended imagining of Elvis talking about her while buried inside of Elaine. To be thought of, spoken of, made a part of that dynamic…Ann is going to hell for the way it makes her clench and breath in like a panting racehorse.

“Well that’s all -settled for you, isn’t it.” she can’t help but try her hand at being a little mean herself. It comes out petulant and she winces at the pettiness of it.

“Yes.” Elaine doesn't bother with false remorse over her surety in her husband’s return, “Which means all that’s left is to help sort you.”

“Sort me?“ Ann isn’t above mud wrestling a fellow gal on the diner floor.

“Thumper, darling,” Elaine sighs gently while her eyes stray behind Ann’s head at some gathering fans behind them, “this industry crafts an image for its stars like suits for models. What they’ve got for ya right now sure is flattering, but make no mistake, they’ll be happy to discard you and your new suit whenever it no longer makes folks gossip. I’d like us to last a lot longer than all that.” her eyes focus back on Ann’s and a sad smile lights up her face, “I think we’ve got it in us to.”

“Who’s us?”

Elaine seems to take time to consider that before answering, “The trio of us.”

Ann remains wary, it’s altogether too easy to want her to mean what she can’t possibly have intended. “Us?”

“Yeah, us.” Elaine grins, “Or at least, I think that Thumper and Naughty and Tink could manage something. Even if the adults can’t.”

It’s wicked that smile of hers and awfully persuasive, like she’s figured something out. And maybe she has, that throat closing fear that Ann was a replacement suddenly allayed by the jimmying legged beauty who acts so brave while having the ill luck of having a soulmate in a married man.

Ann’s no replacement for Elaine.

She’s Elvis’ mirror and his double and a fondness blooms in Elaine’s heart for her at that realization, along with a healthy dose of exasperation that always seems to linger when in Elvis’ presence.

“So, will you let me sort you?” she presses the young woman and doesn’t miss the way she swallows hard in the same way Elvis does when Elaine starts bossing.

Interesting.

“Arrange a little something for us that’ll outlast those hooligans at MGM? You gotta think about what you want, Ann, they’ll get ya on the treadmill and never turn the damn thing down when you burn out unless ya make them. I’d have thought you’d have learnt that these past few weeks.”

Ann knows she’s referring to Elvis and his insomnia, his hollow eyed spouting of the newest script and his mechanical jiving while his soul atrophies from grief suppressed. Ann knows there’s a damned dead end at the end of loving him too thoroughly. Too exclusively. But God! -he made her feel important. That’s all a little silly now that she’s looking at his wife with those love kiss abrasions adorning her throat and a diamond weighing down her finger.

Ann wants Elvis. Ann also wants whatever it is Elaine’s got and if she ever wants to really get that, she's gonna have to let Elaine’s husband go and find herself one of her own. “Alright.” she whispers, smudging the linoleum table top with her wrist, “I mean -I would like to remain friends. Very much.”

“We can do better than just that. But it’s a start.” Elaine clicks her tongue in a strangely cocksure way that has Ann melting as she watches as if in slow motion as Elaine’s hand comes up to her face, a manicured finger swiping at the corner of Ann’s lip before bringing the vanilla frosted finger to her own mouth and sucking nonchalantly.

Already sorting her out and Ann complies with rapt attention and a shudder. “I had the good sense to leave Jack behind for this little visit.” she admits cheerily, as if making breezy conversation and Ann realizes the crowd behind her shoulder have moved in closer, “Which means we could have a dinner party, us three, and there’d be no chaperone to set a curfew.”

Mrs. Presley wiggles her eyebrows in a way that suggests they won’t be watching movies late into the night and Ann’s heart threatens to gallop away from her at the thought of it.

Someone from the crowd asks for an autograph.

Preoccupied, Ann accidentally writes “thumper” on the bottom of a fresh Polaroid depicting her and Elaine peeling out of the studio lot.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I hope y’all enjoyed, after such a long pause I’d be astounded if any of y’all were still invested in this but I swear that while I may not be as prolific in the next few months, my gargantuan plot for this universe and others are still alive in my brain. Love y’all 😘 if you wanna be added to the taglist please comment below

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

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@heartbrake-hotel

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sarge and lil mama #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #70s elvis #elvis smut #elvis angst #Elvis x Elaine #Anne’s the Name #mine #50s elvis #elvis pictures #elvisaaronpresley #elvis one shot #elvis fandom #Elvis #elvis the king

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! (Coming Soon)

Prompt: You are Dolores Cannava, a young Italian-American nurse desperate to make her own way in the world and break free of her dysfunctional mafia-connected family and traumatic past. Elvis Presley is just returning home from his two-year stint in the Army, looking more handsome than ever, but feeling the pressure to successfully find his way back to the stratospheric career he was forced to leave behind. In a twisted turn of fate, Elvis finds himself in the hospital where your paths cross. Forced to harbor his potentially career-ending secret and needing to escape a terrifying future in New York, you are pulled into his unusual world and must endure a begrudging fake relationship with Elvis in order to protect his reputation (and his life). 

TW: Hospitals, illness, allusions to abuse. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers.

Rating: PG (ish?) (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: It’s good to be back, my lil’ darlin’s! I’ve missed y’all! Broken Glass has a decidedly different feel than Pink Scarf, and I really hope that you enjoy it. This will be more of a slow burn and not quite as smut heavy as PS, but we’ll get there eventually! The original character of Dolores can also be read as Reader, but her back story needed to be pretty specific so I decided to go the OC route. I’m excited to dive into some of my favorite tropes with this one, and hopefully I can do them justice.

Delicious 1960 Post-Army E has me in almost as much of a chokehold as ’69 E, so it was only right that I give him the attention he deserves! 

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 

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

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

I’ve used the tag list from Pink Scarf, so please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Story is cross-posted to my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences! 

Bellevue Hospital

New York City, New York

March 1960

“Nurse Cannava!”

The shrill call of Charge Nurse Irma Hunt grates on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but you don’t dare show it on your face. Instead, you take a deep breath through your nose and hurry over to the severe woman.

“Yes, Nurse Hunt?” you say as evenly as possible. You’ve only been an official Registered Nurse for a few months and cannot afford to make a wrong step with this drill sergeant of a woman. You’d rather be extra deferential and placating than looking for a new job, no matter how much you want to run in the opposite direction any time she calls your name.

She looks at you critically, peering down over her glasses with her sharp stare. “Nurse Calhoun was pulled away to surgery before she was able to finish her other duties. I need you to change the sheets for our VIP patient while he’s upstairs for x-rays. I need you to be quick. In and out, no funny business, you understand me?”

“Of course, Nurse Hunt,” you nod frantically. It’s the middle of the night, so it is strange for the patient to be doing tests at this hour. Though if they are trying to keep his identity under wraps, it makes sense that they would choose an hour where less people were involved.

“And absolutely no telling anyone about our patient. We must uphold the strictest confidentiality, now more than ever,” she adds with a glare.

The threat is clear:

Don’t mess this up.

“I understand.” Curiosity of who it could be itches at the edge of your mind, wondering about this VIP that has the woman in more of a harsh mood than usual.

Maybe it’s Ricky Nelson or Mario Lanza or Marlon Brando, your mind titters, but it’s probably just some stuffy politician. You figure it’s better to have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised than to have high ones and be disappointed.

Ever the realist.

Regardless of who might be, you don’t have time for silly schoolgirl fantasies. There is a job to do, and you best be getting to it before getting into trouble.

You scurry away to gather fresh linens, then make your way back to one of the few private rooms on the floor. Most patients are relegated to the open wards here in Manhattan’s biggest hospital, but there are special cases, such as this, it seems, where a more private setting is needed.

There’s a large man at the door, keeping watch, and he looks you up and down with narrowed eyes longer than you’d like, sending a chill into your gut. But this is nothing new. You hold your ground, straightening your spine and lifting your chin.

“Nurse Hunt asked me to change the sheets,” you say, clipped. He smiles, as if in on a joke you’re not privy to, then opens the door.

At 20, you are the youngest nurse on the ward. People, especially men, tend to underestimate you, but you have something to prove and no time for nonsense. Graduating high school early, you were thrilled to be accepted to Bellevue School of Nursing, one of the best programs in the country. The four-year experience had been grueling, but since you had to live in the dormitory, it got you out of the house and away from your damned father and his cronies.

In the process, you discovered that helping people truly is your calling. So, while young, you are good at your job and take it seriously.

This is why you hurry in and start stripping the bed as quickly as possible. As curious as you are as to who this mysterious man might be, getting the job done is much more important than snooping around the room.

You tug and pull the sheets as taut as possible, perfect hospital corners making the bed crisp and neat. Your attention to detail and cleanliness are a sense of pride, so spending a little more time than necessary making sure the bed is perfect is worth it. The intention isn’t to linger, but if this VIP is as important as everyone is making him out to be, you want to make sure everything is done right.

Finally, after inspection, you gather up the dirty sheets and make your way around the bed, just as the door opens to the room.

Damn. You weren’t fast enough.

Your gaze cannot help but drop to the man in the wheelchair. A bandage is stuck at the edge of his thick chestnut locks. Although he is obviously ill, his sapphire eyes rimmed with dark circles and his pallor pale, there is absolutely no mistaking who the VIP is.

America’s biggest rebel-turned-G.I., the one and only Elvis Presley.

You are not a fan, but your heart unwillingly kerthunks against your ribcage anyway because he’s still one of the most famous men on the planet, and you are shocked at how pictures barely do the man justice.

Dear lord, even sick, he is wildly gorgeous in person, you catch yourself thinking. His essence seems to fill the room, pushing all the oxygen out, because suddenly you can’t catch your breath. Suddenly, you understand why millions of ladies fall faint at his feet.

Surprised to see someone in his room, his eyes rake up your body from your toes to your little white nurse’s cap. You hold back a shiver as those famous bedroom eyes finally land on yours.

“Well, hello there, little bird.”

Little bird? You know you shouldn’t let it bother you, but the pet name rankles you in its familiarity. You’ve been called all manner of things by all manner of men, both in and out of this hospital, but this is a new one, and though certainly not the worst, it bothers you all the same. Perhaps it’s because he acts as though he is owed this familiarity and expects you to be grateful for it.

His lilting Southern drawl is creaky and hoarse from illness, making him a little less mystical, which allows you to quickly recover your wits. Trying not to show annoyance on your face, you straighten your posture while moving aside to let the orderly push Elvis into the room and help him onto the bed.

“Goodnight, sir,” you say politely, as pissing off this VIP will do you no favors, but your eyes harden at the way his gaze openly lingers on you. You attempt to skirt around him as quickly as possible, but the room, though private, is not large, and the wheelchair and the two men take up much of the space.

“Hey, little bird, wait!” he calls out before you even reach the door.

Stopping in your tracks, your infernal heart continues to pound in your ears. All you want is to get out of this suffocating room, but you inhale and turn around instead. The orderly gives a wink before sliding out of the room behind you. You resist the urge to huff.

“It’s Nurse Cannava, sir,” you say firmly, trying to take the edge out of your voice, albeit unsuccessfully. “Is there something I can help you with?”

That sly, signature grin spreads almost bashfully across his face and if you weren’t so perturbed by the suggestiveness of it, you might keel over from its brilliance filling the small space.

“Call me Elvis, little birdy,” he drawls, blatantly ignoring using your given name, as requested. “Could ya be so kind as to get me some water? Please?” he asks kindly, which is far more than you expect.

“Yes, certainly, sir,” you reply, equally ignoring his request to call him Elvis. You turn on your heel and escape as quickly as possible before he can ask any more of you.

A breath shudders through you once you’re out in the hallway. You hadn’t realized you were holding it. You are as bothered by this reaction as by the fact that you must get this man water and go back in there without showing him that you are in any way affected by the fact that he’s Elvis Presley or that his behavior has you decidedly on edge.

He’s a patient, you remind myself silently, and this is part of my job. A job I desperately need to keep if I want to get out of that nightmare of a house...

This thought steadies you more than anything. You’ll do almost anything to be in a position to permanently leave home and to do so without having to marry that mook Gianni. And hell, you’ve dealt with much worse in terms of patient behavior. Getting Elvis water is objectively the easiest thing you’ve had to do all shift.

You can’t seem to help straightening your starched white apron before taking a deep breath and marching back into the room, pitcher of water and a glass in hand.

“Here you are, sir,” you say, trying not to sound terse, trying not to look directly at him. It’s almost like the feeling that you shouldn’t be looking at the sun, yet your eyes want to do it anyway. Even without looking at him, you can sense his heavy gaze lingering over you. You blush involuntarily, the blooming warmth a betrayal of your modesty. In response, you place the pitcher and water down on the table near him and turn to flee as quickly as possible without making it seem like that’s what you are doing.

“Hey, now, little bird,” Elvis says, catching the hem of your skirt, halting your exit. “Why ya tryin’ to fly away so fast?”

“Oh Madone,” you mumble under your breath, your Italian heritage making an appearance as you roll your eyes to the heavens before turning back around and pulling the fabric from his long fingers. Heat washes over you in an angry wave, turning your blush a deeper shade of red.

“I have other patients to tend to, sir.” It’s not a lie but sure feels like one with the strained way it falls off your tongue. Your lips press into a thin line of a smile, desperately trying not to glare at him but catching his eyes with your unamused ones all the same.

“Elvis,” he corrects me, maddingly, that smirk playing on his lips, a playfulness in his glassy, feverish eyes. “And I was just wonderin’ if ya could pour me a cup, since it’s all the way over d’ere?”

The water is on the table right next to the bed, and he certainly looks able to pour it himself, and you both know it, but he just smiles, playing this infuriating game, wasting your time.

Finally, you sigh and relent. It’ll be faster to just do it than to try an argue about it. He’s a patient, after all.

You still feel his eyes on you as you turn sideways and dutifully pour the water out. His presence, especially when focused on you alone, feels incredibly overwhelming, mixing a healthy dose of trepidation in with your irritation. You keep your face as neutral as possible and hand over the glass.

What you don’t expect is for him to touch you, his fingers circling over yours, blazing hot from the fever he looks to have. You loathe the way your heart flips in your chest when he looks up at you through impossibly long, feathering lashes, those gemstone eyes of his expressive beyond imagining and conveying more than just playfulness.

“Thank you, little bird,” he whispers. The sound swirls up your spine, breaking through your annoyance just enough to see the blithe, handsome boyishness of him. It promises an unfamiliar temptation, one you’ve seen only in movies and never willingly and truthfully experienced for yourself. Your mouth goes bone dry.

He is dangerous, you think, but not because you are afraid of him in a physical sense (and lord knows you’ve feared too many men already in your short lifetime). No, his is a danger of an entirely different sort. He makes you want to trust him, and in your experience, men are never, ever to be trusted.

“Nurse Cannava! What are you doing in here?” Nurse Hunt’s shrill admonishment startles you out of the hypnotizing stare of the teen idol, causing you to jump back as though he was on fire. You let go of the glass, slipping your hands out of his, but he does the same, and the glass spills water all over the newly changed sheets before tumbling to the floor where it shatters with a crash.

The tinkling of the glass explodes in your head, and a latent and all-too-familiar fear associated with the sound freezes you to the spot. Try as you might, you cannot stop the involuntary trembling that rushes through your limbs. Air attempts to fill your lungs, but the breaths are too short and shallow to do any good. The wave of panic threatens to undo you, right here, in front of both your superior and the most famous man in the world.

It's just broken glass. I’m safe. I’m at work. He can’t hurt me here. The mantra plays in your head over and over as you clasp your shaking hands in front of you, trying to pull yourself together before anyone notices anything amiss.

“I told you to be quick and quiet, not go around cavorting with our patient!” Hunt hisses harshly, glowering, but it snaps you out of the trance-like state that has overtaken you.

Now, instead of fearing things that cannot hurt you here, you are suddenly afraid for your job. Nurse Hunt is a terrifying and formidable leader and being on her bad side means a world of hurt going forward. Your heart feels like a hummingbird’s, fueled by anger, embarrassment, and lingering panic. You resist the urge to give Elvis a scathing look, knowing it will likely just result in more trouble. Instead, you quickly raise your eyes and catch a strangely curious yet concerned look from the man.

“I-I’m s-so sorry, Head Nurse,” you finally stammer out, realizing she is waiting for you to say something. “I’ll clean that up right away.” You start for the bed but are stopped by the crunching glass beneath your practical white nurse’s shoes.

“Ma’am?” Elvis croaks out suddenly, gently, capturing the older woman’s attention. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t mean to be a bother, but it wasn’t the young lady’s fault at all. I asked her for the water. She was just doin’ her job, and I distracted her. It’s my fault.” His bedroom eyes widen with an almost childlike deference as he looks at her through those long lashes.

Elvis oozes an effusive charm that makes the formidable woman’s hardened veneer crack. It might not be obvious to one who doesn’t know her, but her gaze softens ever so slightly.

You almost want to roll your eyes and scoff, but the strange thing is that it doesn’t feel at all like a put-on. It first strikes you as some sort of malevolent manipulation, like he wants to impress you somehow by getting you out of the mess he got you into, but he seems nothing but honest. He looks truly sorry.

You stand stock still, hands still clasped in front of your apron, needing to know your fate before moving. Nurse Hunt finally sighs, having weighed her options of denying her VIP’s puppy dog eyes or making your life miserable.

“Alright, Mr. Presley. Nurse Cannava will help you move to that chair there so she can change your sheets again and clean up this mess,” she says through pursed lips. “And you let her be and do her job, you hear? You’re not the only patient on the ward, young man.”

“Of course, ma’am. I really am sorry about the mess,” he says softly, seriously, nodding.

“Quickly, Nurse!” Nurse Hunt barks. Picking your jaw off the ground, you hustle to the other side of the bed, still amazed he was able to soften the old goat in any way.

It’s not until your arm is around his waist while the other steadies him in a well-practiced and trained move that you realize that you are holding a barely clothed Elvis Presley. A brief but decidedly improper and embarrassing thought flirts in the back of your mind as you help him into the chair in the corner. His skin is hot with fever, easily felt where your skin touches his and it radiates through his thin hospital gown. It burns into you, through you, melding with the unnerving, angry fire that already consumes you. You can feel his eyes on you but don’t dare to look at him, not with Hunt watching, making sure you don’t drop the prize patient.

You suppose you are glad for the fact that your cheeks were already on fire from humiliation, so neither can see just how uncomfortable and ashamed you feel right now. The way emotions flash rapidly through you, you’re amazed you can concentrate at all, but you manage to deposit the singer in the chair, unscathed.

Nurse Hunt huffs a little, but seems satisfied, and takes her leave, on to the next crisis.

A relieved but shuddering breath releases from you and without looking at the man in the chair that has caused so much trouble tonight, you jump to removing the sheets you made so perfectly not minutes ago.

“Hey, little b—Nurse Cannava,” Elvis catches himself, “I-I-I meant what I said—I really am sorry I made things harder on ya.”

You refuse to look at him. Instead, you grit your teeth and yank the sheets off, furious. Storming out of the room, you quickly retrieve a new set of sheets and a broom and dustpan for the glass on the floor.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he mutters as you stomp back in the room, dutifully ignoring his presence. You busy yourself with the glass first, sweeping it into a pile, then bending over to sweep it into the dustpan. You realize too late that you’ve just effectively but unwittingly shown Elvis your rear end. You can practically hear the smirk on his face, which is confirmed once you flit your eyes over to him.

A new wave of heat flushes over your cheeks, but you pretend you don’t notice his leering. Nothing good has come tonight from you paying any sort of mind to what Elvis is doing. You go about your business as swiftly as possible, counting the seconds before you can remove yourself from his suffocating presence.

“You just gonna ignore me now, honey? Come on, I-I-I said I-I was sorry,” he stutters petulantly after another minute of silence.

Your response is to tug the sheets as tight as you can. You move around the other side, hating that your behind will be in his face while you finish the bed, but it can’t be helped. You grit your teeth and focus on smoothing the sheets instead of the hole Elvis is burning through your backside.

“Well, at least I got a nice view in the room…of the city, I mean,” he chuckles. The innuendo is crystal clear.

You whirl around and want to slap that stupid grin right off his pretty face. You’ve never felt so unprofessional or off the rails as you do with this man.

He’s a patient, he’s a patient, he’s a VIP patient, you remind yourself, trying to take calming breaths. But try as you might, you can’t seem to keep your damn mouth shut, that Italian temper flaring, boiling your blood.

“Eyes up!” you snap your fingers at him. “I have work to do and a job to keep, and talking with you only gets me in trouble, so leave me be!” Blood throbs in your ears as you attempt unsuccessfully to keep your fury at bay.

“Ooh, I heard New York cherries were feisty, but I hadn’t the occasion to see it for m’self,” he muses, thinking he’s just about the funniest thing since Lenny Bruce.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” you mutter under your breath, fuming, turning around to finish the bed. Once it’s done, you breathe a sigh of relief and make to leave.

“Hey, little bird, you want an autograph or somethin’?” Elvis asks, still vying for your attention for whatever reason.

God, the ego on this one. “I don’t want anything from you.” You can’t help but turn towards him, even though you know you should leave as fast as your legs will carry you.

“Not a fan, huh? Bet I can change your mind,” he says, his left eyebrow quirking up suggestively. The man is as gorgeous as he is infuriating.

“I prefer Ricky Nelson, so no thanks,” you shoot back at him.

He fully laughs at that, a big, hiccupping, musical sound that under any other circumstance might be attractive and endearing, but now it just seeks to make you angrier. Your seething seems to amuse him all the more, however, as he erupts into more peals of laughter.

“You’re somethin’ else, lil’ bird,” he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. But his face suddenly turns alarmed as he can’t seem to catch his breath, the laughter turning into gasps.

“Elvis, enough of that. Let’s get you into bed.” Your training immediately overrides whatever negative feelings you might have towards the man. “Try to take slow, deep breaths,” you say calmly, crossing the room quickly.

His face turns red and panic starts to bloom in his darkening, churning eyes as he wheezes. You help him up and out of the chair, and he shudders, leaning all his weight on you. His breathing is too labored and he’s burning up, and you’re not sure he’ll make it the short way to the bed.

Indeed, the two of you only make it a single step before his long legs give way, and it’s all you can do to brace his tall, lean body and keep him from hitting the tile floor hard. Instead, you slide down together, and you make sure to cradle his head as he collapses.

You don’t panic. In fact, you are the calmest you’ve been since meeting the superstar because this you know you can handle. This is what you were born to do.

“We need some help in here!” you shout out to the ward before turning your attention back to Elvis, now sprawled on his back on the floor. You quickly grab the oxygen mask from his bedside and turn the nozzle to get the air flowing.

“Elvis, you’re going to be okay. I need you to try and breathe deep for me, as deep as you can,” you say, fitting the mask over his mouth. He coughs, struggling to get the air in his lungs. He seems in and out of consciousness, those panicked eyes of his now a stormy, glassy gray as they try to focus on you.

“That’s it, just breathe now,” you coo at him, taking his vitals. His pulse is too fast and thready. You give him a small smile, trying to keep him calm.

An orderly, a doctor, and another nurse rush in. You quickly rattle off numbers and facts regarding his respiratory distress.

“Let’s get him on the bed,” the doctor orders, and the four of you lift him on a count of three.

Elvis flails his hand, gripping your arm. It’s certainly not the first time a patient has grabbed you out of fear, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt a jolt of electricity running through you from it. Looking in his eyes, the terror you see there gives you pause.

He’s just a man, you think. A very frightened young man.

And he wants comfort. Care. So, despite wanting to throttle him earlier, you hold his hand. He clings to you as the team tries to stabilize him. Your touch seems to settle him a little, despite the way his eyes flutter and he still gasps for breath.  

You all manage to get him breathing better, but he won’t let go of you. He starts to panic again every time you try to move away, throwing his vitals into a tailspin. As weak as he may be, that strong guitar-playing hand of his has you in a vise-like grip. The doctor looks at you judgmentally, and you make it clear that you have no idea why this is happening, that you’d rather not be relegated to hand-holding duty. But since his vitals are better holding your hand, the doctor nods his okay.

Give the VIP patient what he needs, is the clear message.

Elvis stabilizes. The room clears, and you stand at his bedside, waiting for him to fall asleep, to relax, to release you—anything that will allow you to leave and get back to work and forget the last half an hour ever happened. His eyes are closed, but every time you try to slip away, he just pulls you back. You try not to sigh audibly, to let your frustration show. You are usually much more compassionate and professional, rarely letting patients get under your skin. But Elvis…well, he seems to bring out an unwanted side of your normally mild and shy self.

He’s not consciously trying to be bothersome like he was earlier; he’s much too scared and out of it for that, you reason.

And at least this is better than cleaning bedpans, you chuckle, finally deciding to sit on the edge of the bed and make yourself a little more comfortable. You take this somewhat surreal moment to really look at him.

He is truly beautiful. There is an almost angelic innocence about him with his pale skin and high cheekbones, the way his cheeks are somehow both full and soft, but his jaw chiseled at the same time. His lips are pillowy and full, though nearly colorless now due to the lack of oxygen. His hair gleams, a deep, golden chestnut—a far cry from the rebellious black locks he was known for at the height of his fame a few years ago. With his straight nose and fanning, long lashes, it seems as though he was carved in stone by the masters and brought to life somehow.

Your heart skips, quite involuntarily.

Of course, there are imperfections. He’s got a day’s worth of dark stubble growing and you can see places where his skin is mottled from what was probably youthful acne. The circles around his eyes are too dark and…

I am really reaching here, you think. No, you are quite at a loss because even his “imperfections” add to his beauty.

Okay, so objectively, he’s pretty—when he’s quiet and sleeping. It’s just when he opens his big mouth that he becomes less attractive. This reminder makes you feel better and less like a fawning teenager.

Finally, his hand relaxes, and you slip out of his grasp without him reaching for you. As if trying not to wake a sleeping baby, you very slowly and quietly raise yourself off the bed. But curiosity gets the better of you, halting your leave, and you quietly open his chart at the end of the bed.

Your eyes scan the pages quickly, widening, hardly containing your disbelief. They glance up at the unrealistically beautiful young man in the hospital bed. Though you barely know him, and what you do know of him has already driven you mad, you can’t help but feel a sense of sadness and dread.

It’s the thing all his bravado and beauty distracted you from.

Elvis Presley is a very, very ill man.

*

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[remcycl333]

Void/LOA success by 💇‍♀️anon

This post is gonna be a bit lengthy , blunt and unbelievable 😭 also very sloppily written cause i’m havijh so much fun. i really have got out of my comfort zone and I’m so happy i did. No you do not have to follow every step I did! This is simply for motives and inspo.

So, yeah it's obvious i was one who struggled with void and loa blah blah blah for a LONG TIME! I was a hardcore druggie, physical and mentally abused all my life, had a very rare illness and so much more. But who gaf ab the old story. ☠️

So after a day of sending that cringe ass message to u i ended up prioritizing myself. It’s clear I was idolizing void and I’ve been doubting in LOA too like ??? So in the 3D i moved in with my one and only friend, got a job at a fastfood place (pls this is sorta embarrassing), and decided homeschool was much better for me. Also between that time I learned how to correctly manifest and shiz by you and @theandreiaeffect<3. And girlllll literally less than the next week I manifested perfect mental and physical health, my dream job, desired appearance, and 7,000,000$ with a 15,000,000$ home me and my bestie now live in. I was already so happy how it was. Yet after that crazy ass week passed by i woke up in the fucking void. I have no clue how but i did.

Now for what I manifested in void.

- ‘i heard a rumor’ power - a power of this girl from a netflix show. basically you say ‘i heard a rumor ____’ and it happens. its like a brainwash power? its simple to explain but idk. (If u watch that show my fav character is klaus whats urs?)

- Time travel(?) - so when i got in void it was prolly like september 11th 2022. i just said in the void ‘it is August 30th’ and when i woke up it was august 30th as you can tell so now I’m just relapsing my days but in a goodway.

- changed family - my bestie is like family and i changed her appearance to her desired appearance, more cousins, siblings, aunts etc. my dad being a famous nfl star.

- Revenge - basically just fucking with my abusers life the same way they fucked with mine. I have no regrets so🤷‍♀️

- Name and age revision - I always hated my full name so i changed it. I was 17 and just revised that i’m 21. yeah it was a big gap but idc it was worth it for me honestly. i also manifested i’m not gonna die till like 90 and age like wine so.

- a bf- oh let me tell u. i’ve always had a crush on ralph macchio. and now i have a boyfriend who is his twin but even more attractive. his personality and the way he showers me with love is mwah.

- Removing phobias - i’ve always been scared of animals🤦‍♀️ not anymore tho now i have 2 cute lil puppies and a parrot:)

- Vegan restaurants and shops opening up close to me - I’ve been vegan since the beginning of the year due to animal cruelty and just not enjoying meat.

- Immune from getting preggo til 25 - its self explanatory what i be doing but i’m not ready for a baby yet so🤫

- Being protected and safe 24/7 - anyone around me also is aswell its like a invisible barrier to danger

Now those are just a handful of what I manifested. I literally manifested sooooo many other priv things. Just get ur shit together. I have nothing else to tell u. Honestly idk how LOA coaches don’t get fed up with y’all constantly crying ab how u dont got ur shit when u are the reason why. U have a cheatcode to life. Not many people are spiritually awoken. Do you know how fortunate you are to have discover LOA???? Keep this in mind and maybe ya know manifest ur dream life. To Rem, I thought I’d be on tumblr way longer as your anon, but I’d rather go live my life to the fullest for a while. I hope my story leaves an imprint on the LOA community. Andreia, you have also really inspired me. I’m so fucking happy I made a whole 180 with my life. Rem and Andreia, i will NEVER forget what you have done for me. Thank you so much really. I love u guys so much🥲🥲

yesss im so proud of u!!! when u said u traveled back in time from september i got the chills! and baby go live your life and enjoy it, you deserve it!!! come back whenever u want and update us <3

#void success stories #💇‍♀️ anon

[hoodie-buck]

army!eddie/babysitter/buck au has arrived y’all!! this is my baby, my absolute pride and joy, and i’m so happy to finally share with y’all 🥹 hope you enjoy <33

rated: e | chapter 1/10 | words: 5.7k | read on ao3

summary:

“Does this story have a point?” Eddie questioned, Lena narrowing her eyes at him; it would’ve felt threatening had he not known she was more bark than bite.

“This guy, my sort of friend—what if he could watch Chris for you?”

Eddie furrowed his brows together. “You want me to leave my kid who’s halfway across the country with some—stranger?” Was she out of her damn mind?

“It beats having him sent home to your parents, right?”

Well, she had a point there.

Eddie shook his head, overwhelmed with his thoughts.

“Look, I appreciate it Bosko, but I just—I don’t know. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

“I know that, and I know how much you love him. Hell, you’ve sent me ten plus emails when I was watching him for you.”

Eddie looked to where there was a line coming out of the office, his other teammates no doubt having several emergency questions of their own. He turned to Lena, giving his full attention.

“Alright, tell me about this friend of yours.”

—or—

The one where Eddie’s in the army, Shannon gives up her rights to Chris, and Eddie needs a babysitter. Good thing Lena knows Buck, the guy having nothing better to do than help babysit until Eddie gets back. Eddie would come home, and he would leave; it wasn’t like they were going to build some lifetime friendship or anything.

**if you wanna be tagged in chapter updates lmk, otherwise i’ll just tag everyone again once it’s finished posting <33**

tagging squad below, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @heartbeatdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @confetti-cupcake @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @swiftiebuckleyhan @loveyourownsmiilee @justsmilestuffhappens @dorkydiaz @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @eddiescowboy @djdangerlove @bifirefighters @mr-and-mr-diaz @buddierights @crazyfangirlallert @monsterrae1 @wh0re-behavi0r @panicatthediaz @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @buckaroo118 @angelwiththeblue-box @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @buddiearemydads

#buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #christopher diaz #lena bosko #911 fox #army!eddie/babysitter!buck au #multi chap #heavy angst #angst with a happy ending #tenderness #slow burn #literal sleeping together #long distance relationship #idiots in love #kel(s) writing