#Fic: Cadillac Love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barefoot-joker · 1 year ago

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Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over.

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed.

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me.

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries.

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

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clubsoft · 11 days ago

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⠀ ⠀ SUMMER , LO SIENTO ⠀ ⠀ JEY USO / POC ! F ! READER⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ cupid's arrow arrives in the form of a pink cadillac && takes root . WARNINGS ⋆ mechanic!jey / nods towards sexual acts but none are written out / mentions of blood / puppy love heartbreak / lots of fluff / lots of angst / a man talking abt cars but its jey so its cool / longing / minimal char description but written w woc in mind / age gap ( reader is mid - late 20s , jey is late 30s ) / size difference / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 3 . 2 k NOTES ⋆ i originally wrote this fic abt 6 - 7 years ago w someone entirely different in mind but i love it sm that i went back n edited it to fit jey . it's mostly proofread but i doubt its perfect , there might b a difference in quality as well but i think thats the charm of re writing an old story . anyway !! enjoy !!

ACT . 1

With summer that year came the death of Jey— figuratively, of course. The heat nipped at his flesh and sweat beaded on his forehead as his low cut muscle tank stuck to his back. He spent his hours at his workplace, surrounded by the smell of car grease and rubber, and his free moments at the beach, but he could only watch so many sunsets before his heart ached for something more.

That day, the sun was burning intensely and stepping out of the air conditioned car garage had quickly become an irritation inducing task. Jimmy, his coworker and twin brother, was away for the week, visiting some friends down in the valley. That left Jey alone in the mechanic shop to tend to however many customers he could before he finally closed for the day.

His last customer— as dramatic as it may be— waited in her 1962 Pepto pink Cadillac. With her feet perched up on the dashboard, eyes transfixed on her phone screen and earbuds tucked in, she didn't notice the man until his knuckle rapped on her window. He watched a gasp form on her lips as she shot up, rolling the window down for him.

"Sorry— I didn't see the line go by," she said slowly, smiling sheepishly. He chuckled politely in response, ever the sweetheart, never one to make a customer feel uncomfortable in his presence.

"All good. What can I do for ya?" Jey fixed his loose top and leaned down, eyes shifting hastily over the sleek leather interior of the car. Impressive.

"I just need to get the battery replaced…" Judging from her hesitation and the way she bit the inside of her cheek after replying, she wasn't quite sure of what she needed. Just as he'd expected, her words were quickly followed by: "I think." Jey grinned that easy grin of his, his cheeks dimpling.

"What are the problems you've been having? Is it just not starting?" Her answer came as a confident nod and he held his hand out for the keys, which she placed in his palm before stepping out of her car. He wiped his dirtied hands over his jeans as he stood straight, glancing at the matching pink heart that hung from the keychain— he assumed it was some sort of obsession, but he himself had never found the shade of Pepto Bismol to be appealing.

The sky was beginning to darken, the lights in the garage shining much brighter than they did in the daytime. His last task of the day was an easy one, but he'd missed the sunset with how long he'd been at it. Older cars were set up differently. They were easier to fix— thankfully— but he found himself being extra careful not to touch the clean exterior with his grease stained fingers. The silence was awkward, but it wouldn't have been if there weren't so many questions swimming in Jey's head.

"This is real nice. S’this your car?," he finally asked, looking up for a moment, catching the girl's eyes. Had she been watching him this entire time? Many customers did, more often than not, so to feel a shiver run down his spine upon realizing she was doing such was… odd. What was so different about— Not all of those customers were so pretty… that was what set her apart. Jey blinked; once, twice, a third time, and then cleared his throat. To answer his question, she shook her head and just when Jey assumed she'd leave her answer at that, she began to speak.

"It's my grandmother’s. She's had it for forty years,” she replied, to which Jey nodded. "It's been broken down for a while, I just thought it would be more serious than a dead battery." This time, he shook his head.

"Sometimes, cars shut down if you don't turn ‘em on for a while. Usually, s’not just a dead battery. You got lucky, really." He watched her nod in understanding and divert her gaze back to her phone. There was something detached about the way she answered his questions, how quick she was to turn her attention away when it would no longer be too rude and how focused her words were, as if she picked each and every one carefully as she spoke. He didn't pry, he didn't feel the need to at that time. Everyone was always disturbed in their own ways, it seemed.

It soon became evident that his encounters with the girl would never end. After their first meeting, he'd forgotten her face within the next twenty to thirty minutes, much to his relief. Pretty faces weren’t good news when it came to him. Their second meeting, two weeks later, was passed off as a coincidence— it's a small world, he thought. After their third time stumbling across one another, he finally found out her name. He remembered her face after that night; glittering eyes and honeyed skin, lush lips and a perfect nose.

Jey could recognize her figure anywhere after that, and if he were to say he didn't miss her fingertips brushing against his hands as he held her hips or the feeling of her nails scraping his nape as she crooned his name, he'd be a lying fiend.

ACT . 2

Jey felt dainty fingers thread through his hair, the light scratching of long nails against his scalp. He breathed out a sigh.

"What are you doin’, baby?" he mumbled. Soft tresses brushed against his shoulders as she leaned down to press her lips to his, moving her body into his lap where his arms encompassed her waist. Her lips planted roses and tulips along his jaw and she buried her nose into the crook of his neck, exhaling gently and sending the butterflies in Jey's stomach to his spine, making him shudder.

"I have to leave," she whispered. She never met his eyes when he tried to look at her; instead, she borrowed her face into his chest, avoiding his gaze at all costs. She feared she'd cry, or say something he didn't want to hear just yet. She feared he wouldn't care— worse, she feared he'd leave her first.

"Hey, look at me." She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest, the tenderness of his fingertips against her chin, guiding her eyes to his own. Jey's hand shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb running gently over her skin. "What's wrong?"

"My dad…” she began, and then trailed off.

“Your dad?” Jey coaxed, gently.

“He doesn't like you and he— fuck— he saw me kiss you that one night when you dropped me off and he doesn't want you near me, because he doesn't like that I'm dating someone like you so I—”

Confusion apparent on his countenance, Jey tilted his head, and repeated, “Someone like me?” He wasn’t sure what that meant, for she avoided the topic of him meeting her family like the plague. He’d always assumed it was to do with things she wasn’t ready to tell him about. Never did he think it was to do with him. A naive way of thinking, when he reflected upon it. Yes, he was older, a good decade and some change separating their years, but she was old enough to know what she wanted. He didn’t have a career that made him six figures a year, nor did he plan on working towards one. The only thing he was good at was fixing cars, and he did that with no complaints. To her family, who’d worked hard to get her a college education, put themselves in debt to ensure her a future, Jey wasn’t an equal. Sure, it hurt to not be seen as enough, yet a single glance at his baby and his hurt faded, washed over by the sheer love in her tearful eyes.

“Age and job, college degree and— bullshit, it’s all bullshit! You take care of me, you make me happy, s’that not enough?” Her voice was raising, becoming fervid with perplexity. Jey cupped her chin with one warm hand, and watched fondly as the simple touch led her to match his slow, steady breathing, letting his closeness answer for him.

Droplets began to flow freely from her eyes, trembles running down her back. She cried herself tired in his arms, only relaxing under the sensation of his fingers drawing circles into her skin. "I don't want to leave you, but he knows I'm gone and if he finds me with you, he'll send me away.” Her embrace tightened around his torso. “Baby, I don't want to leave you."

"S’okay, sweetness," he mumbled. "We’ll figure somethin’ out."

"I have to get away from him, but where am I going to go? And what about you? What am I going to do without you?" Fresh tears raced down her cheeks, swiped away by Jey's thumbs. "I can't make you leave your life here… not for me.. not even temporarily… and I can't stay with him because he'll send me away to somewhere I might never see you again.” Utterly despondent, she let a sob shake her frame. “I'll lose you either way… I'm flirting with the edge of a cliff." Strong arms squeezed her tighter in reassurance. Jey’s heart was aching, hearing her sound so hopeless taking a much bigger toll than he feared he could handle.

"I won't let you jump… I said I’d never let you go, I meant it." Again and again, those words had left his lips. What a fool he’d been to think this was anything but love. When he mistakenly thought he missed the softness of her thighs and the smoothness of her lips instead of her, when he only held her close to listen to her whimper and groan, to feel her legs quivering around his waist. When he thought he would one day get tired of her voice, her laugh, her touch. Inhaling deeply, he filled his senses with her scent, and those three words slipped away before he even felt them on his tongue.

I love you. I'm never letting you go.

Fear had made his body freeze, the gasp that left her lips and the sigh that followed. The lust and courage drained to be replaced by lovesick whispers and tender touches. The soft dips and curves of her body were stamped into his memory and he refused to make himself forget.

His fingers basked in the softness of her locks as he let his mind wander, hoping to find a fragment of a solution among the growing shadows of anxiety. His lover had gone silent, her soft breathing indicating that she too, was in deep thought. He held her tighter, left kisses along her brow, and closed his eyes.

He could take her somewhere, leave behind what he'd known for years. They'd say he ran away for a girl, that she ruined him. It's what his friends always assumed, that she was in it for something else; rarely did women who looked like her truly love, but his baby was a fallen angel with tears of gold and a kiss like freshly bloomed cherry blossoms. Perfect. Oh, so perfect.

There was bound to be somewhere underneath the palm trees where they were safe.

"Baby," he began, his chest rising with a deep breath. "Let's take a trip."

ACT . 3

Jimmy thought Jey was wasting that golden heart of his on the wrong one; ruining his time on someone who'd run away once he was no longer enough, so the news of Jey's departure, especially as it was announced over the phone, had him shaking with anger. Every attempt made at getting his brother to rethink his decision was hastily dismissed, and though he understood how much joy the girl brought the man who'd been wallowing in his own angst, Jimmy was too careful to let her grow on him.

"You're just worried. She's not like that, she's… perfect."

Really, it wasn't her mistake; Jey was the happiest Jimmy had ever seen him, but that happiness was there years back as well, with Jey's high school sweetheart who hadn't looked back after she stomped his heart into the sidewalk and disappeared— completely vanished into thin air. This happiness wasn't nearly identical to the one from years ago, a seemingly purer form of it, but Jimmy never cared to look too closely at the details; he just wanted to help his twin avoid heartbreak.

"It'll only be for a bit, until she can fix things with her dad."

The repair shop was closed already, a sign hanging from the doorknob claiming they'd be back soon! in bright red letters that bugged Jimmy the longer he looked on. He struck the door with his fist, wincing as the metal shook on its hinges.

"You don't get to tell me who to love."

Jey's voice was so awfully calm when he spoke those words, but Jimmy had heard the sigh that followed— the soft, shaky sigh. Jey was scared, no matter how much he denied it, he was scared, but not of leaving, no. It was something else, something Jimmy couldn't guess.

"We both remember what happened the last time you said that, Jey."

Jey's high school sweetheart was a childhood friend of Jimmy's first. As twins, they shared everything. It was only a matter of time before Jimmy’s first friend became Jey’s first love. As they grew older, distance was inevitable. The boys who once played racing games together on their GameCube as kids dodged death by the skin of their teeth while taking part in a race of their own, one with nasty twists and competitiveness that overshadowed their care for safety. Jey being the winner while Jimmy coughed up blood behind the wheel landed them in a fight so brutal, they spent the weekend in the emergency room. Even after that, Jimmy was always there. He was there when Jey ran away from their dad's place, and he was the one who snuck back into their dad's house when they gathered the stuff he'd left behind. He’d been the one to co-sign on Jey’s small apartment, the one to give him his first real kitchen appliance, the only person in his life who could bring him out of a slump with a trip to the movies and cheap margaritas at their favorite diner. Nine minutes older, Jimmy never failed to be a good older brother… but when he made a mistake, it was a big one. He was the one who’d set Jey up with his first love, the girl who held no remorse after abandoning his other half since birth.

"She left me. She just— she's gone… Jimmy, she said she doesn't love me anymore…"

Heartbreak clung to each and every word that left Jey's mouth that night, his voice trembling, tears spilling down his cheeks, the pain in his eyes so evident, even in the dark. That night was stamped into Jimmy's memory and he wished to forget it for it brought on an ocean of guilt that'd drowned him for the months after the breakup. It took years for Jey to recover, the change in body language when her name was mentioned, the sad glint in his eyes still visible, but not anymore; not since the girl arrived in her pink Cadillac.

"I think I'm in love, and I'm not just sayin’ that. I've never been so mesmerized by someone's presence before. Hell, today, I stared at the lil’ crinkles that appear around her eyes when she smiles the entire time she was here. I know you were scared this would happen but she isn't one’a those girls… she doesn't have any other guys; I told you that before. You know that one girl we met at the bar when we all went? She said my baby was the best person she knew… she can't be lying, right? If she is… S’too late. I think I'm in love."

ACT . 4

Her hands shook in her lap, dainty fingers curling and uncurling, gripping onto any piece of reality she could as neurotic thoughts suffocated her and twisted their claws into her flesh. The girl couldn't stop trembling, the countless deep breaths she took useless. She only found solace in Jey's touch, but even those sensations soon rendered futile. Still, he held her hand and wiped her tears.

Jey was humming some old song, moving about the hotel room as if he was indifferent to his own circumstances, but his restlessness spoke louder than his words. He kissed the crown of her head when he came back from the shower, clad in only sweatpants, and as they lay on the bed, he kept her small hand on his bare chest, where she could feel the subtle vibrations of his heartbeat. He ran his fingers through her hair— soothing her nerves to the best of his ability.

Below her fingertips, his smooth skin was stained with ink. Tatau, he called it. Beyond those grease stained shirts and calloused fingers was a vision of beauty, a symbol of the tenderness her beloved possessed. It's for my uncle, he'd said, he was wonderful, woulda adored you.

She was burrowed into his side, head resting on his outstretched arm and her legs thrown over his. Aside from her soft breathing, she was silent, lost in her own sea of thoughts. He could see them swimming in her orbs like koi fish in ponds, each one holding its own maybe's and what if's. Jey hummed, tugging gently on a lock of hair.

"Tomorrow, we'll do something fun," he whispered. The girl's response was a quick nod; she hadn't heard him, he was sure of it. Instead of snapping her out of her daze, he put his hand over hers and let her wrap her fingers around his pointer and middle digits. To believe such small palms held his entire world. "Baby." He squeezed her hand gently. This time, she hummed in response. "Tomorrow… we'll do something fun."

"Okay."

It would take time to keep her ring of fears from tightening around her chest, to stop her from apologizing for something he'd voluntarily done.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She shifted to press her lips to his jaw, lingering there for a quick heartbeat before he tilted his head down to mold his lips against hers. Her hand gripped his fingers tighter, and Jey couldn't ignore the rush that went through his body the moment her chest pressed against his. Her heart was beating so fast as his lips slid down to her neck and his teeth grazed her skin. "Jey?"

"Yea, baby?" he murmured against her bare chest, untangling their legs to bring himself up to the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She hid her face in the crook of his neck before she continued, "for making you do this."

"You didn't make me do anything," he spoke into her hair, his chest vibrating with each word he rasped out. "Oh, baby… if you only knew all the things I'd do for you."

⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀

TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe / @uceyliyahh / @uceypunk / @punksyeet / @chasssssworld / @ctinadiva / @bookuce / @bratzzzdoll / @mselenalovebug / @sheaabuttaababyy / @partypoison00 / @meemee444u / @pr0wlerpunk / @queeny23 / @mingisfavgf / @brianochka if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my wrestling fics , pls like this post !!

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #wwe fanfic #jey uso fanfic #jey uso x poc reader #jey uso imagine #bloodline x reader #idk what else to tag this #jey uso fluff #fic.

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midnight-blues09 · 8 days ago

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I love it when a fandom grows into something that has its own lore, sure the original series doesn't have these headcanons but these are universal in almost 70% of the fics.

We all just impulsively decided Victor had a gala exhibition on a britney spears song wearing a funky outfit, no one told us that; does Kubo sensei know?

We all also decided Yuuri Katsuki is an oblivious heartbreaker and that animals love him. Yea seems legit.

I swear oblivious heartbreaker Yuuri katsuki is like a tag of its own. And did I mention Victor having a pink Cadillac? We've never seen him drive it but I swear it exists! ( yea no it was in the official art, but hey you get my point)

I love the unofficial official world building considering the capitalist anime studio never really saw us at next level. When you don't grow the lore, the lore grows itself.

#yuri on ice #We die like ice adolescence and rise from the ashes with fandom lore #YOI #fanfiction #headcanons much?#life #love #victor nikiforov #yoi fanfic #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #Yuri on ice fanfiction #ao3 lore #lore

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sansaorgana · 7 months ago

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hi! could you write something for benny where reader is the one who falls in love with him first, but since she comes from a rich family, benny is the one who is always pushing her away? he thinks she just wants to use him to cause trouble with her parents since he's a bad boy, etc. one day, he treats her bad or say something harsh to her, and she gets really sad and it's the first time he sees her like that and he hates it, making him realize that he actually likes her too? a bit of angsty but ending very fluffy! i'm sorry if this is too much! feel free to add your own ideas to this and take your time, if u don't feel like writing this, that's totally ok!

hello! 🎀 thank you for your request! it immediately gave me the vibe of Lana Del Rey's song Gangsta Boy 🤭 but I actually quoted her other song in this fic (Happiness Is a Butterfly) 🦋 I hope you like it, darling! 😌

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

You first met Benny when he was hired by your father to clean the pool and mow the lawn for the summer. You opened the balcony doors, irritated by the loud sound in the early morning. You came out in your nightgown and a light robe and then you saw him – tan, tattooed muscles flexing in the sun. Golden hair, big rough hands, dirty jeans and his pretty full lips whistling a tune as he worked. He was a prize and you had your eyes set on him.

You took a shower and jumped into a bathing suit. Without breakfast, you ran downstairs and laid on the sun lounger with a book. Pretending to read it, you kept staring at the guy. He was trying to ignore you but your uncomfortable gaze finally made him look at you, too, and it nearly took your breath away – his baby blue eyes, long eyelashes and the dark mystery hiding underneath.

Benny Cross was unlike any man you had ever known. He was from a different side of town – the wrong side of the tracks, they’d say. You had always had friends amongst the children of your father’s friends. Even in high school you hadn’t been exposed to men like Benny Cross since your school had been private and quite expensive.

“Any problem?” He asked you after turning off the lawn mower and you were a little taken aback by his careless and rude tone but the deepness of that voice made a shiver go down your spine.

He was rough and he had a raw masculine energy about him. Not a three piece suit, expensive watch and whiskey type of masculine energy – you were sick of that, honestly. No, Benny was all about beer, bar fights and worn-out blue jeans. And there was no chivalry about him, you could see that in his contemptuous stare, hear it in the rude tone of his voice.

“You’re loud,” you pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“I am mowing the lawn,” he answered as if you were stupid or crazy.

“Oh, are you…?” You squinted your eyes at the tattoo on his left arm. “...Benny?”

He didn’t say anything to that and kept staring intensely at you. You let out a nervous giggle and hid your face with a book, pretending to go back to reading. He shrugged his arms and went back to work but you kept staring at him whenever you could.

When his job was done, he drove away on a big, beautiful Harley and you bit on your lower lip, leaning on the fence.

The second time you met Benny was at the mechanic’s garage. You were explaining to the guy named Michael all about that weird noise that your white Cadillac had been making recently when, suddenly, none of your words were audible anymore because of the loud, roaring sound of the motorbike. Irritated but intrigued you turned around with crossed arms and your eyes sparkled at the sight of Benny parking his Harley outside the garage.

“Excuse me,” Michael nodded at you and walked outside. You leaned on your car and turned your head to see him and Benny and be able to hear their conversation.

“Hi, Benny, man. Need anything special today?” Michael asked after shaking Benny’s hand.

Benny spotted you as he furrowed his brow and you looked away, fixing your hair nonchalantly.

“Just dropped by, gotta borrow some tools,” Benny explained and walked inside the garage with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

This time he was wearing a jeans vest and you noticed he was a part of a gang. It was written right on his back – The Vandals.

“Hi again,” you spoke up first as he was looking around, trying to find the tools. Michael followed him inside and approached you again.

“We know each other?” Benny asked, pretending to be surprised.

“You were mowing my lawn,” you reminded him as you looked him up and down as if he was a dessert.

“I don’t remember,” Benny shrugged his arms.

You didn’t say anything to that. You felt hurt so you just looked down. Benny grabbed a few tools, showed them to Michael and then he drove away. Only when the sound of his engine was disappearing in the distance, Michael cleared his throat.

“Sorry for commenting, it’s none of my business but you don’t wanna anythin’ with Benny Cross, believe me,” he told you and you raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s nothin’ but trouble, yeah?”

“He seemed to be friendly with you,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m friendly with all of ‘em. Don’t want my garage to burn down,” he laughed nervously.

You hummed to yourself. Yeah, perhaps that was more trouble that you could handle.

You nearly gave up on daydreaming about Benny – the mechanic’s words had made you realise that he was much more dangerous for your liking.

But then you met this one girl who had gone to the same school as Benny.

You went out with your friends who had met this girl in college and she was from the same side of town as him. She had gotten into college thanks to the scholarships and during the fancy dinner your friends had taken her to, you mentioned a handsome bad boy named Benny Cross. They kept giggling but this girl – Sherry – she did not.

“Oh, I know him,” she only said and took a sip of her drink through the straw.

“What?” You locked your eyes with hers. “Really?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded her head nervously. She was still uneasy around people like you, scared of saying or doing something wrong and getting kicked out of the group of fancy friends. “We went to the same school.”

“And what’s he like?” You asked her.

“I’m not surprised what he ended up like,” Sherry cleared her throat and blushed a little. “I mean, he didn’t have it easy growing up. Never was a good student, always a troublemaker. I think he was taking out on others what he was going through at home,” she told you and you pursed your lips as you leaned back on your chair and took a sip of your own drink.

Well, you were doomed. You started to feel bad for him. Benny Cross was a trouble ‘round town but you wanted him. Perhaps there was some truth to the fact you just saw him as a challenge – he’d make a good accessory, too. But you weren’t as shallow as people claimed you were just because of your daddy’s money. You had known from the beginning there was something more to him, some depth that seemed to be unreachable but you wanted to get there.

You hated yourself for that but you started to find excuses to go to that dirty pub where The Vandals were hanging around. It wasn’t safe to go there all alone as a young woman so you would always convince one of your friends to go with you. For them, it was an exciting adventure – however, they usually would only go with you once. And never again.

You kept bravery coming. Spending your daddy’s money on awful drinks in a quality you were not used to. Leaving hours later to catch a cab, smelling like sweat, grease and cigarettes. Being hit on by so many awful dudes that you had to politely reject… And all of that just to stare at that one quiet guy at the pool table who kept occasionally giving you contemptuous glances.

“You should give up on that guy,” your friend Marissa told you after a night out at the pub. She had always been the most honest one of your friends. “He’s clearly not into you and your presence is bothering him. And honestly? You’re kinda like a stalker, darling,” she said when you were in the taxi cab.

“I’m just curious about him,” you shrugged your arms. “All the guys in that club are walking up to me and asking me out. All of ‘em except for Benny!”

“You should get the message already,” she rolled her eyes.

You were hurt by her words but she was right. After seven nights spent at that pub, it would be embarrassing to keep coming back. And your parents were getting suspicious, too.

For a woman who was supposed to stay away, you were certainly not doing good. You found yourself bailing him out after hearing that he had been arrested not so far away from your house for breaking the speed limit and causing a harmless car crash – as in, no one was hurt. Except for the cars.

Desperate, you knew. But it was perhaps the only way for Benny Cross to finally notice you.

You watched him being walked out while nervously tapping your finger on the counter. He looked sexy as ever, being dragged by two policemen. His hair a slight mess, his leather jacket under the jeans vest. Heavy boots, white jeans dirty from the grease… And then he gave you that contemptuous look again that you had known pretty well. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“You again?” He asked, sparing you a glance before getting his personal belongings back.

He put his rings back onto his fingers and lit a cigarette before walking out of the building, just like that. Your heart skipped a beat. You rushed after him, into the cold air of the dark night.

“Benny!” You called for him and he turned around, lazily. He didn’t say anything and now it was awkward. You didn’t know what to say to him. “I’m sorry,” you only whispered. “Sorry for helping you,” you added with slight irony in your voice.

“My friends would have bailed me out,” he shrugged his arms. “And they gonna give you the money back. I don’t want to owe you nothin’,” he drawled out through gritted teeth and began walking towards his motorbike that was parked outside the police station.

“Why do you treat me this way? I don’t want the money back,” you followed him with tears pricking your eyes.

“Why would you pay for me? I’m a stranger,” he leaned on his motorbike and looked deep into your eyes. “Why do you keep following me around? I know why. And listen, it’s not that I don’t fancy you or anythin’, don’t you think. But I won’t be your fucking toy. I ain’t no purse dog,” he clenched his jaw. “Don’t wanna owe you nothin’. Don’t wanna owe nothin’ to you rich folks,” he added angrily. “Want me to fuck you, I can. But I won’t stay around to be your pet.”

“I…” You sighed as your lower lip trembled. You looked down. You didn’t know what to say anymore. He was right. He was only a stranger and you kept following him around. Marissa had been right, too. Still, his assumptions hurt you.

You couldn’t explain why you were so drawn to him but you were. From the moment you had seen him. And it was more than some stupid one night stand or a wild adventure. But he would never understand it, would he?

“I’m sorry,” you only said and looked up again, straight into his baby blue eyes that squinted now at the sight of fresh, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’ve made a fool outta myself. Wanted to show you kindness but you know nothing about it, am I right?” You sniffed the tears back and turned around to approach your own vehicle parked nearby.

With shaky hands, you sat behind the driving wheel and started the engine of your white Cadillac to drive away.

After that incident with bailing Benny out, you completely gave up on him. This time for good, of that you were sure. And you hadn’t mentioned to anyone that you had spent so much money to bail him out either. Your parents would kill you and your friends would never stop teasing you about it.

Liking bad boys had its price, apparently.

A few days had passed and on that morning after breakfast you decided to sunbathe by the swimming pool and relax. You put on your bathing suit and made yourself comfortable on the sun lounger with a record player in the background. Your father was out of the house at work and your mother was shopping. You were home alone and didn’t expect any guests so when you heard a ringbell from the front door, you got startled a little.

Carefully, you stood up and lowered the volume of Brenda Lee’s song playing. You put on a sheer shirt over your bathing suit and you approached the front door, hoping it was the mailman.

But when you opened the door, you ended up face-to-face with Benny Cross himself, leaning on the doorframe and looking you up and down.

“Yes? What is it?” You pretended not to know him although your heart picked up its pace.

“Stop playing. Got your money,” he told you and reached into the pocket of his jacket to hand you a few bills.

“I don’t want them,” you shook your head.

“Your folks at home?” Benny tried to look behind you.

“No, I’m alone,” you admitted.

A short, awkward silence occurred. You kept staring at each other as if you had a staring contest.

“Wanna come in?” You eventually took a step back and he hesitated before nodding and going inside.

He kept staring at everything as you were leading him to the living room. He reminded you of a curious cat, the way his head was spinning and eyes widening.

“You been here before,” you rolled your eyes.

“Not inside, no,” he admitted. “Your old man didn’t let me,” Benny explained and you looked down.

“Sit down,” you pointed at the armchairs once you were finally in the living room. “Wherever you want.”

“No, thanks. I like standin’,” Benny put his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. “I want you to take them money. It’s a matter of honour to me,” he explained.

“Male’s sense of honour is a fragile thing,” you smiled nervously. “Alright, give them to me then,” you reached your hand out and Benny put the bills inside it. His fingers lingered on and he gently closed your hand around the money.

“Thank you,” he mumbled out and you looked up at his face, surprised.

“You thank me?”

“And I’m sorry,” he added, his cheeks turning crimson red.

“For what?” You asked. Not to tease or torture him but you were genuinely surprised that he had said those words.

“For being rude and making you cry. You were… You were kind to me. I don’t know why. Maybe because of the reasons I had told you about. But maybe not. Either way, you’re kind to me and I don’t know why but… You saved my ass,” he looked away.

“I don’t know why either,” you admitted with a nervous chuckle and that made Benny lay his eyes on you again. “I don’t know why I’m this way around you. You must think I’m crazy but I swear, I’m not always like that.”

“You showing up at that pub seven times in a row was kinda cute,” Benny admitted.

“You counted?” You bit on your lower lip and he sighed after realising that he had accidentally revealed too much. “That’s adorable,” you quickly added.

“Your folks know?” Benny asked suddenly and you froze.

“Know about what?”

“The pub, the money, bailing me out,” he explained and took a step further to be closer to you. You remained in the same place.

“No… They wouldn’t like that,” you admitted.

“And you like that, hm? That they wouldn’t like that,” Benny pointed out, now standing right in front of you. You looked up to meet his intense gaze.

“No, I don’t. I’m not what you think,” you assured him. “But I know you don’t believe me.”

“Prove that to me,” Benny smirked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?” You asked.

“Prove that to me and come with me,” he extended his rough hand and your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Come with you… where?” You asked with a heavy beating heart.

“Dunno yet,” Benny shrugged his arms.

“I… I need to change,” you told him and he smiled slightly. There was a hint of disappointment in that smile, you noticed.

“I’ll be waiting outside by my Harley,” he told you and left the living room.

Benny didn’t believe you would actually change your clothes and join him. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning on the motorbike while staring at the front doors of your house. He was throwing the cigarette away, about to drive away, when he spotted you rushing out of the house in a pair of blue jeans and a white tank top. You waved your hand at him to wait, so he did, although the engine was already roaring impatiently.

“Thought I wouldn’t come?” You raised your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Exactly that,” Benny smirked. “Hop on,” he pointed with his chin at the back of his motorbike. “Ever been on one?”

“Nope,” you admitted as you sat behind him.

Benny nodded and drove away – slowly at first, not to scare you due to your lack of experience. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek to the back of his vest.

He took you to the abandoned factory building on the other side of town and at first, you started to have anxious thoughts. But after a while you heard noises of other people and the music. Benny parked his bike and helped you hop off it as he grabbed you by your waist.

“You took me to a party?” You asked and he nodded. “Okay, come on,” you held his wrist to drag him to the direction of the sound.

You were a bit excited, actually, to join a party of the motorbike gang. You were glad you had chosen to wear jeans and a tank top instead of some dress you’d probably be teased about.

At the sight of you, the guys whistled and you could feel your cheeks heating up. Most of them had been hitting on you at the pub.

“There she is, Benny’s saviour,” one of the guys chuckled as he took a sip of beer.

“Not really. I took my money back,” you replied with a grin.

“Told you she’d take them eventually,” some other guy laughed as he patted his friend on the chest.

“Well, I like money,” you told him. He didn’t have to know that the only reason you agreed for Benny to pay you back was his honour or ego or whatever. Sometimes it was good to pretend to be more shallow and spoiled than you actually were.

“For a girl who likes money, you have a poor taste,” some girl giggled and the rest laughed.

“That’s enough,” the oldest man with the roughest voice ordered and there was silence suddenly. “Come ‘ere, child,” he pointed at you.

You looked up at Benny, unsure. But Benny only nodded his head. You decided to trust him and approached the man.

“My name’s Johnny,” he introduced himself and extended his hand. You shook it. “Don’t worry, little one, nothing’s gonna happen to you here. Thank you for helping my boy Benny the other day.”

“No problem,” you smiled, shyly, a bit intimidated by his aura.

“Now go, have fun,” he winked at you.

You turned around and didn’t know what to do, so you went back to Benny who was now drinking beer by the fire. You stood in front of him awkwardly and he moved slightly to make space for you and you sat next to him after that. He offered you a bottle of beer and you grabbed it.

You expected the eyes of everyone to be on you two but they were not. In fact, everyone stopped paying attention to you and it felt nice. It also gave you some sort of security. Even the guys – the same ones who had been hitting on you, now no longer were staring. Perhaps because you had come with Benny. And you noticed – even after this short while – that they all had mad respect for him. And feared him a little, too.

Was he the craziest out of them all? He didn’t look like that. He was calm and quiet most of the time. Yeah, yeah… He had that dark look in his eyes, that dangerous sparkle, the mystery. He probably was a real wild beast when angered. But you hadn’t experienced that side of him… yet.

“If you’re as bad as they say, then I guess I’m cursed,” you told him before taking the first sip of the beer. He furrowed his brows at you and then he chuckled at you coughing at the taste.

“First time drinking beer like that?” Benny teased.

“I’ll get used to it,” you assured him.

But you didn’t mean just the beer and you both knew that.

“I’m glad,” he answered, looking deep into your eyes.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #*benny #lilysfiction

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atleastpleasetelephone · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 13 - Oral

A/N: This was inspired by recently seeing the white and gold Cadillac Limousine in Nashville and falling in love with it. Also, absolutely ages ago @peaceloveelvis was asking for a fic with Elvis in the outfit below. Strictly speaking, reader isn't going down on him in the cinema, but she kind of is...

Pairing: Elvis x reader

Word count: 2.1K

TWs: Oral, reader has a bit of a fixation with Elvis' leather gloves, public-ish sex, car sex, think that's about it.

Kinktober masterlist

When Elvis invited you for a ride in his new car, you had no idea what you were letting yourself in for. You’d been in cars before, obviously. You’d been in caddies. You’d even been in a caddy with Elvis, once. But nothing could prepare you for the gold Cadillac limousine.

He’d woken you up at 3am, the phone ringing off the hook whilst you staggered down the stairs wondering who on earth would call at this time. It took you a while to recognise his voice. You’d met him at the recording of the Timex Special, and he’d taken you on a date, in one of his other caddies in fact. But that was it. So you assumed he wasn’t that interested, and now you’re standing in your bedroom, staring into your closet, trying to work out what on earth you should wear to a date with Elvis Presley in the middle of the night.

You’re not actually clear what this date is going to entail or why it has to be at 3am, although you assume it has something to do with that big crowd of girls that’s normally outside the Graceland gates. Anyway, he said he’d come and pick you up so you try to concentrate on your outfit and doing something vaguely sensible with your hair. It’s not long before you see the beam of the headlights outside and so you rush downstairs, grabbing your coat and heading out of the door. It’s lucky you live alone, really.

Elvis is standing outside of the car, holding the passenger door open for you. It’s a warm summer night and you can’t help noticing his leather gloves and captain’s hat, placed on his head at a jaunty angle.

“Hi,” you whisper. Best to try and avoid waking the neighbours if possible.

“Hey, baby,” he replies, his leather-clad hand on your waist, pulling you in to kiss you gently.

Your head spins. It’s very the-middle-of-the-night for all this. He grins at your reaction, he can already see he’s got the upper hand. Gesturing for you to get in, then closing the door behind you and going around to get into the driver’s seat. You stare at the interior of the car, wide-eyed. There’s so much going on. It’s white and gold and the floor is carpeted. You stare at the floor for a while. It’s white sheepskin, and it looks soft. Your mind starts racing at a mile a minute, wondering why anyone would get that kind of carpet fitted in their car.

Once you get on the road Elvis flips a record player on, and gleefully informs you that it’s got a 10 LP changer. The speakers are incredible - the sound comes out crisp and clear and all around you. He carries on explaining everything he’s had fitted to the car in the way of modifications, and you sit there, slack jawed, overwhelmed by the opulence. And overwhelmed by him. He’s gorgeous, somehow even more beautiful than the last time you met him, and he knows it too. He’s smirking and winking and he can clearly tell the effect he’s having on you. You’d almost think that he came and got you in the middle of the night deliberately. Your eyes keep being drawn to his hands on the steering wheel, driving with such purpose and with those damn gloves on. Those gloves are doing something to you. You try to look away and then find your eyes trailing down his body to his pants, and you’re suddenly confronted with the fact that they are lace up. Lace up. You tear your eyes away and stare out of the window, wondering where you’re going and trying to ignore the thoughts about the gloves and the carpet and the lace up pants that are all crowding into your brain at once.

Eventually he gets to where he wants to go - a deserted parking lot, tucked out of the way in the daytime but even quieter in the middle of the night. He parks and switches the record off.

“I wanted to take you to a movie,” he says, by way of an explanation, “but I’m too famous to go to a drive-in these days. So I thought we could get in the back and watch the TV.”

You blink a few times, trying to process all of this information. No, it’s no use. Your brain is still coming up with nothing.

“The TV?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. There’s a TV in the back. Come on.”

He gets out and then opens your door for you like a gentleman. You let him lead you to the backseat and the two of you sit there together. He gestures to a small box.

“There it is, see?”

You nod dumbly. You do see. But he’s also incredibly close now, his thigh against yours, his breath on your face. You look from the TV to him and he’s so near you could count his eyelashes. He puts an arm around your shoulders and grins lazily.

“I’ll put it on.”

“Okay,” you almost whisper in response, feeling yourself get hot. You’re sure he didn’t make you feel quite like this the last time.

Elvis turns his attention briefly to the TV, switching it on and fiddling until he finds something vaguely watchable. Not that he’s intending on watching that much, but he likes the background noise. He’s about to peel his gloves off when you stop him.

“No, leave those on,” you tell him, sounding more confident than you feel.

He turns back, eyes a little wide. He can’t believe he left it so long for a second date, but he’s been a little overwhelmed with offers since coming back from the army. If he’d known you were going to react like that to his gloves he’d have done this sooner.

“You like them?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You nod and he puts both gloved hands on either side of your face. The feeling of the leather on your skin is deliciously soft but it’s also making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. It feels dirty somehow. You feel a tingling between your legs and you’re dying for him to kiss you. He stares down at you through hooded eyes until you feel like you might catch on fire, and then very slowly moves to close the gap between you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You moan in response and he takes that as encouragement to continue, kissing you again, his tongue gently parting your lips as one of his hands moves to hold the back of your head. Everything is spinning, your stomach is doing somersaults and that tingling feeling between your legs is growing. His tongue pushes in further as you feel his nose pressing into your cheek. You find your hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him in somehow even closer.

He smiles that lop-sided grin when he eventually pulls away, after making sure he’s nibbled on your lips and messed up your hair a little. You’re breathing hard and you can’t work out why he’s stopped and is just staring at you. Admiring his handiwork. Looking away, almost shyly, you find yourself looking at his groin again. Those damn pants. And the outline of something in them. Your eyes go a little wide, and then you’re back to looking at the fluffy white carpet. Fuck it, you think.

“I bet this is soft,” you say, slowly getting down off the seat onto your knees on the carpet. Nodding sagely, you continue, “I was right. Very soft on the knees.”

It’s Elvis’ turn to be wide-eyed, staring down at you as you kneel between his legs, your hands travelling up and down his thighs.

You swallow, hard. It's not like you're never given a guy head before, but this is a lot of pressure. This is Elvis. He's probably had a lot of great head. But he chose you this evening, and he wore these pants, and he’s taken you to a secluded location in the middle of the night in his caddy with a sheepskin rug for a carpet. You stare at the bulge in his pants as you gather your courage. He looks excited, anyway.

“D-doll…” he stutters, looking down at your pretty little face staring at his crotch with such concentration. “Y-you don’t have ta…”

You slide your hands up to the top of his thighs as you lean forward, starting to mouth him through his pants. His jaw clenches at the feeling and a little moan escapes through his gritted teeth. Encouraged, you move your mouth along his clothed length, feeling the size of him, your spit making his pants wet. He whimpers a little, watching you. He’d intended to be the one touching you, maybe even with the gloves since you seemed to like them so much. But he’s hard and your mouth feels good even through his clothes.

You move your mouth back along his length again and then set to work unlacing his pants with your teeth. He moans loudly when he realises what you’re doing. Obviously he had something in mind when he put them on earlier today but he never dreamed you’d be doing this. It’s easier than you thought it might be, and they fall open allowing you to carefully take his dick out with one hand.

“Ya… ya really don’t have ta d-do this…” he tries again, eyes closed, fearing for your reaction once you realise he’s not cut like probably every other guy you’ve been with. He supposes part of the reason he didn’t do anything with you the first time was when you mentioned your ex-boyfriends. He enjoys girls with no expectations, and he’s afraid you must have a lot of them.

“I want to,” you tell him, rolling his foreskin back to expose the sensitive tip.

You run your tongue around it and look up at him, enjoying his reaction. You haven’t ever seen an uncut dick before but it doesn’t take you long to work out what to do with it, licking spirals around the most sensitive parts. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your head and you know what he wants. But you don’t want to give it to him just yet, licking him from the tip to the base and back again, and then taking his balls in your mouth as you stroke him.

“Shit, honey,” he murmurs. He’s spent a lot of his time with virgins telling them how to do this, being patient, asking them to mind their teeth and not suck so hard. Or suck harder. You remind him of some of the girls he met in Paris. You know what you’re doing.

You smile as you move away from his balls, jerking him a few times and then sliding your mouth over the tip. His hand starts to grip the back of your head a little tighter, your hand still working him as you tease him with your mouth and tongue. His dick is a little too big for you so you keep up the combination of mouth and hand, looking up at him as his head falls back against the seat, his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

You speed up your movements, knowing he must be close now.

“Doll… I’m gonna… I’m…” he murmurs, unable to say the actual words.

You know what he means though, preparing yourself for his bucking hips as his orgasm shoots through his body and he finally cums in your mouth. You stroke him one or two more times as he curses and calls out your name, then carefully lick him clean, stopping when he starts to whimper a little.

“Goddamn,” he mumbles, pulling you up onto the seat next to him again. “That was so good.”

His compliment makes you grin. “It sounded like you enjoyed it,” you tease.

He leans close and kisses you, his hand gripping your arm. You enjoyed sucking him so much you’re sure your panties must be soaked.

“My turn to make you feel good now, doll,” he tells you, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you, those gloved hands making their way up your thighs, pushing your skirt out of the way.

Looking up at you, questioningly. “You want me to take the gloves off now?”

You shake your head. “No baby. Leave them on.”

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #kinktober #starsandskieskinktober

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gloomysoup · 1 month ago

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'tis the season

@steddiebingo christmas prompt: winter

rating: teen+ | word count: 1808 | tags: omegaverse, hurt/comfort, sick fic | ao3

another edition to home is where you are 🥰

Eddie Munson has always loved winter. He loves the snow, and hot chocolate, and lights, and Christmas. He loves curling up with a whole bundle of blankets to read a good book while snow falls outside. He loves catching snowflakes on his tongue and watching his breath fog up in the cold air. He loves kissing Steve under the mistletoe and dancing around the kitchen in their pajama pants and fuzzy socks.

What he doesn't love about the winter is sick pups.

The first time he and Steve deal with a sick pup is the first winter after Addie is born. It's mid-January, and their little girl is only four months old when she catches her first sickness. Steve and Eddie do not take it well.

Addie didn't sleep for days. She hardly wanted to nurse. She just cried and cried, and nothing could soothe her. They tried everything. They were both stressed out. Addie just kept getting worse.

Eddie got a call at work.

The baby was still crying, broken up by awful intermittent coughing, and Steve was freaking out.

“Something’s wrong,” he stuttered through his own tears. “I don't- I don't know exactly what, but- but I just know that something is wrong, and I don't know what to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What's going on?”

“She just- she has this cough that won't stop, and her breathing is all crackly, and- and she spiked a really high fever. 103.6 last time I checked it. She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Something is wrong, Eddie. I just know it.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and looked at the clock. He still had a couple hours left in his shift. “Okay. Okay, let's not panic.” Eddie was definitely panicking, but he couldn't let Steve know that. “Just- just take a breath, baby, okay? We’ll figure it out. Um… just keep watching her temperature and her breathing. We can take her to the doctor together when I get off. If she gets worse before that, though, call me and go to the ER. I'll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Steve hiccuped on a breath. “Okay. Okay, I can do that. I- I'm scared, Eddie.”

“I know, baby. We’re gonna do what we can, though. I love you.”

Steve sniffled. “Love you too.”

“I'll see you soon.”

Steve hummed and said goodbye before the line went dead. Eddie sucked in a shaky breath, scrubbing his oil-stained hands over his face. He had to get himself back together before he went back to the garage.

“What's up, man?” Dan asked when he finally stepped back in to finish working. “You look a little rough. Everything okay?”

Eddie sucked in another breath and picked up a new rag, sticking it through his belt loop as he tried to focus on work. “My pup's sick,” he explained. “That was my mate that just called. He, uh, he's kinda freakin’ out. She's just getting worse. Spiked a high fever today.”

Eddie couldn't see Dan’s frown with his head in the engine of a Cadillac. He could hear it in his voice when he spoke, though. “Damn. She's not very old, is she?”

Eddie shook his head. “Four months last week.”

Dan hummed, back to what he was doing. “Rough age for gettin’ sick, especially this time of year. Lots of stuff that's worse for the little ones. Y'know what she caught?”

“No, not a clue. Hopefully gonna get her in to see a doctor after my shift, though.”

“Better sooner than later, man. You don't wanna mess with that shit when they're that young. No immune system to help ‘em out. Somethin’ small can turn into somethin’ big real quick, man, trust me. My youngest caught a bad case of RSV when he was about seven months, and it ended with a two and a half day hospital stay.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest. He really hoped it wasn't bad. He hoped she was going to be okay. His stomach kept churning. He couldn't get Dan’s words out his head, or the panic in Steve’s voice on the phone. He should have just told Steve to take her to the doctor without him. He shouldn't have made him wait. He knew Steve. He knew his mate was just going to keep worrying himself sick.

And then the phone rang again.

Jennifer, the older woman who ran the shop’s front desk and did all the behind the scenes work, answered. Eddie caught a glimpse of her through the window as she was immediately on her feet. His stomach dropped.

His entire world shifted on its axis when she stuck her head in the door and called Eddie’s name.

“You gotta go, sugar,” she said, as gentle and sweet as she always was. “Your ‘mega’s headed to the hospital with the pup.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and nodded, tossing his dirty rag down and following her inside the building. It took him barely a minute to sprint down the hall, grab his stuff from the break room, and sprint back outside to his car. He tried not to speed to the hospital, knowing Steve would be pissed if he spun out on the ice or got pulled over, but it was hard. He could barely focus. He whipped into the parking lot of Hawkins General, back tires barely catching traction on the slick asphalt. He hardly had the car in park and turned off before he was rushing through the Emergency Room doors.

It didn't take him long to find Steve and Addie, always able to pick out where they are in a crowd with ease. He rushed over to where Steve was running his hands through his hair, and a doctor was listening to Addie’s lungs.

“Steve,” he said, just as he got close to them. He instantly wrapped him up in his arms, both of them uncaring for the oil that would no doubt be staining Steve’s clothes. “‘M so sorry, baby,” he whispered, eyes on Addie as Steve burrowed his nose in Eddie’s neck. “What happened?”

“She- she could barely breathe,” Steve whispered, his voice cracked and broken with his tears. “She was coughing so- so much and couldn't catch her breath, and- and her fever just kept getting higher. I- I couldn't wait any longer.”

“Shhh, it's okay.” Eddie threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Steve’s head, scratching at his scalp. “You did so good, baby. I'm so proud of you. The doctors are gonna help. They're gonna take care of her. She's gonna be okay.”

They would eventually find out that Addie had a severe case of RSV and pneumonia. They stayed in the hospital for five days while the doctors treated her, and even after they finally got to leave, it was another week of at-home breathing treatments. Eddie hated seeing his pup so sick, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Luckily, none of their other pups got quite that sick. They could get by with cuddles and Tylenol and all the other tips and tricks they got from the older parental figures in their lives. Joyce helped a lot with home treatments that wouldn't break the bank.

One particular winter, right before Sophia was born, the Munson household got hit hard. It was nothing more than a small virus, but the pups were all miserable with it. All they wanted to do was cuddle all day long and sleep. Eddie wasn't about to deny them whatever comfort they needed. With the big snowstorm that had blown through, he had two extra days off work. It wasn't ideal, but the garage’s owner had decided to close instead of letting any of them risk the drive. Eddie knew Steve was grateful for that; he always worries when Eddie has to be out in bad weather to get to work.

First thing that morning, as soon as the pups were sniffling and complaining, Eddie got everyone set up and comfortable in the big living room nest that he had helped Steve put together. Violet was immediately curled up next to Steve, resting her head on his swollen belly and closing her eyes. The rest of the pups cuddled in close, and Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead before going to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He made a whole platter of toast, scrambled eggs, and chopped fruit for the whole pack. He made sure everyone was fed and put on a movie. Then he settled into the nest with his family and cuddled them close. Grace and Lucy ended up in his lap, Grace against his chest and Lucy's head on his legs. James curled into his side, and Addie squished between him and Steve. They were barely twenty minutes into the movie when all the pups fell back asleep. Steve leaned his head over to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, despite the fact that it wasn't the easiest angle to get. Eddie kissed the top of his head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Steve hummed contently, his own eyes starting to slip closed. “I love you too.”

Eddie smiled softly. “Y’know, I really hate when our pups don't feel good, but I can't say I'm upset that they just wanted to cuddle all day.”

He caught the edge of a sleepy smile on Steve’s face. “I know what you mean. Lately, it's like they don't want anything to do with me during the day. All they ever want is to know when you're coming home. Then they get sick, and all they want is to be held and cuddled.”

Eddie frowned slightly, picking up the hint of insecurity in his voice. “You know they love you, right? You're their mom, and an amazing mom at that. You do so much, taking such good care of them, and they will always love you. You know that, don't you?”

Steve sighed softly. “Of course I know that. They just want you because you're not the one here with them all day. Doesn't mean I don't miss all the early stage cuddles sometimes. They think they're gettin’ too big for that, especially Addie and Violet. And of course, Lucy wants to be just like her big sisters.”

Eddie pressed another kiss to his mate’s head. “They'll come back around eventually. Until then, we can just enjoy the time we have with the cuddles that they do want, even if they are all sick.”

Eddie still loves winter, despite how much he doesn't like seeing his pups sick. He and Steve will always take advantage of the extra cuddle time, though. Just another reason he loves the season. Any day, little Sophia would make her way into the world. Eddie couldn't wait to add one more to their pack, especially during his favorite time of the year.

#gloomysoup #gloomysoup ao3 #gloomysoup writes #steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingo12daysofchristmas #home is where you are #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #omegaverse steddie #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington

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youaintnothinbuta · 10 months ago

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“I wanna go steady” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: part two to this fic, where Elvis finally asks you to go steady n be his girlfriend

Pairing: Elvis or austin!Elvis x reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: none! Fluff, maybe typos sorrryyy

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The sound of the doorbell echoing through the house sent your heart racing as you rushed downstairs, nearly tumbling down the stairs with the fright it gave you. You reached the bottom step, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You exclaimed a bright “hi” as you swung open the door, and there he was, Elvis, standing before you with that charming smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He was dressed in a black button up, his hair slicked, his eyes just as piercing as ever. In his hands, he held the most beautiful and enormous bouquet of flowers you'd ever seen, all of them in your favorite shade of pink.

“Hi, baby.” He enveloped you in a warm hug, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace that felt like home. As you leaned into him, he pressed the flowers into your hands, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss.

“Elvis,” you mumbled, kissing him on the jaw, “these are beautiful. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watched you admire the flowers, “you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“Come,” you pulled him inside, going to search your cabinets for a vase for them. Your parents weren’t home, they went out for dinner, otherwise he would have gone and said hello to them. You rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a delicate vase from the back of the cupboard. Elvis stood by, covering the countertop with hand to protect your head as you stood.

While arranging the flowers, you discovered a small note hidden among the blooms. You hadn't noticed it before, and your heart skipped a beat as you read the words. He held you from behind, resting his chin in the crook of your neck as you read it.

To the prettiest petal there ever was.

All my love, Elvis.

“Oh, you!” You squealed with delight as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Elvis, you are too sweet.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on the nape of your neck, his touch firm yet calming. “Nonsense,” he whispered, his voice gentle, “now, you ready?”

You gave a satisfied nod, heading for the front door. His tall frame reached out to grab your coat off the hook before you could, wrapping it around you with a gentle touch that sent shivers over your skin.

With a quick peck on the cheek, you shut the front door and headed to his pink Cadillac. The drive to the restaurant was filled with laughter and conversation, the anticipation of the evening ahead palpable in the air between you.

As you arrived at the restaurant, you were greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air. Over dinner, you shared stories and dreams, lost in each other's company as you savored every moment together.

As you sat across from each other, sharing ice cream for dessert, Elvis reached across the table to take your hand in his, clearing his throat.

“Y/n, there's something I-I've been w-wanting to ask you.” His nervous stutter that you adored so much made an appearance, you gave him an encouraging glance.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love and affection reflected back at you. “What is it, Elvis?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know we've been seeing each other a w-while now, and I ain’t never been happier,” he began, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I wanna go steady, y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, Elvis,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He leaned closer into you, you leaned in too, your lips meeting in a tender kiss.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box and placing it in front of you. “I got you something,” he said, his voice soft.

You opened the box, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the delicate silver bracelet nestled inside. It had a tiny heart-shaped charm with his initials engraved on.

“Elvis, it's beautiful,” you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his generosity.

He took the bracelet from the box, gently fastening it around your wrist as he looked into your eyes. “Like you.”

He looked up at you from your wrist, his thumb reaching out to wipe away a tear that threatened to spill over.

After he paid the bill, he stood up, once again helping your arms into your coat. After dinner, Elvis took you for a leisurely drive, the night sky twinkling overhead the cool breeze brushed your hair back. And as you arrived back at his house, you cuddled up on the couch and watched whatever was on tv for a while, getting cosy. As the night progressed, Elvis felt your lean more on him, yawning, growing tired.

“Let’s get you home so you can get some rest.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

At your home, he walked you to your front door, he kissed you goodnight, his touch lingering on your lips.

“Thank you,” you smiled sleepily, “tonight has been the best night of my life.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He replied.

"Wait a minute, darlin'," he stopped you, as you turned to go inside. "Turn around for me."

You did, and he unclasped your necklace, slipping a ring off his finger and putting it on the chain. He did it up again, and you felt a little thrill run through you.

"What's this?" you asked, touching the ring.

“Well, you gotta wear my ring around your neck,” he said, his eyes sparkling with romance. "You're special to me, darlin', and I want everyone to know it."

You kissed him one last time, feeling like you were floating on air. You went inside, took off your shoes and coat, and couldn't stop grinning from ear, not even while you were sleeping.

A/N: the little stutter he would get like at the beginning of the 1955 maybellene recording and in that scene in loving you OH MY GOD I love it so much

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nanamineedstherapy · 3 months ago

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Velvet Sin & Clandestine Vows - Getting *ahem ahemed* by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party!

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Minors DNI/Implied Cheating but not really/Shameless Smut/My First Smut

Summary: Nanami X F!Reader Porn with plot if you squint Nanami at a bougie party? Weird. Nanami getting dragged into a bathroom with a woman who isn't his wife? Even weirder. What’s hotter than luxury, mystery, and terrible decision-making? Spoiler: nothing. Let the chaos (and a closet with better taste than Gojo) ensue. Or Getting Railed by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party! This fic started as a joke & spiraled into a mix of billionaire aesthetics, deadpan sass, & unhinged party vibes. Buckle up—it’s classy, messy, & totally Nanami-approved. 💅 #Rewritten since I hated the first draft. TW: Maybe Cheating

A/N: This is my first time writing smut of any kind so let me know if it hits the spot ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖) Y’all, I swear, Nanami is loyal as hell, but who doesn’t love a little tension and mystery? If you’re living for the luxury or just here for the smut, drop a comment or a kudos—your chaos feeds mine. Cheers, besties! 🍸

The road twisted like a serpent through a dense forest, the towering pines stretching skyward, their shadows merging into a dark canvas under the fading sun. As Nanami’s Aston Martin DBS Superleggera glided past the last cluster of trees, the view opened into a scene pulled from the pages of an expensive dream.

The estate stood by a tranquil lake , its surface a sheet of liquid sapphire, mirroring the golden hues of the evening. The mansion, impossibly grand, didn’t merely rise—it commanded the horizon, almost otherworldly.

Towering walls of smooth stone enclosed the property, their minimalist design interrupted by intricate wrought-iron gates that whispered exclusivity rather than screamed it. AI-quipped security cameras, seamlessly embedded into the structure, blinking like mechanical sentinels, their presence a silent testament to caution wrapped in discretion. Guards in impeccably tailored suits patrolled the perimeter, some with guns, some with drones, some with androids, some with canines, their demeanor more akin to that of secret service agents than traditional staff.

The driveway stretched before him, a sleek ribbon of obsidian stone that gleamed like polished onyx under strategically placed lighting. The circular courtyard at the end was a gallery of excess : a Koenigsegg Jesko , a Bugatti Chiron , a Maserati Folgore , a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class , a Cadillac Celestiq , and a Rolls-Royce Phantom sat gleaming among other cars, their black, forest green or electric blue flawless exteriors reflecting the golden glow of vintage lampposts.

The lawns rolled outward like an emerald sea, interrupted by marble fountains with sculptures so detailed they seemed to breathe. At the edge of the estate, a private dock cradled a yacht —a floating palace that promised indulgence on the water. Above, the faint hum of helicopter rotors signaled rooftop landings, where multiple sleek, futuristic aircrafts waited in perfect formation.

The mansion itself was a contradiction brought to life. Its towering facade bore sharp lines and elegant curves, an architectural ballet where glass and steel met aged stone and brushed brass, each material woven into a seamless tapestry of power and refinement. High ceilings soared above, the kind that made you feel small without making you feel insignificant. The structure breathed genius—an intellect so vast it had turned ambition into reality.

As Nanami pulled up, the double doors opened before he even stepped out, as though the house had been expecting him. Inside, the ambiance shifted into a warm, inviting opulence. The grand hall shimmered under crystal chandeliers that fractured light into golden rain. Polished marble floors reflected the glow, amplifying the sense of space, while floor-to-ceiling windows turned the lake into a living painting framed by midnight silk drapes.

Walking in, he adjusted his Tateossian 18K gold cufflinks out of habit, the gold gleaming briefly in the chandelier light. The fabric of his Tom Ford silk Charmeuse shirt cooled against his skin as he rolled up his sleeves neatly, a testament to effort without indulgence. His tailored Mohair trousers—his entire outfit, his wife’s suggestion—fit him perfectly, a fact he acknowledged with a silent nod to her exquisite taste.

He knew she had spent more time selecting them than he ever would. She had an eye for these things, a maddening precision that made him trust her implicitly. He'd let her spend a good amount on tonight's party outfit to blend in with his office crowd, even though price tags were the least of his concerns. His wife, however, was a different story. Her taste was so particular that she rarely found anything worth buying at a store. But once she did, if it was casual, it would likely be inexpensive. However, if it was anything work- or party-related, it would undoubtedly carry a hefty price tag

The party coursed through the mansion like a heartbeat. In one ballroom , laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses as soft jazz played from hidden speakers. A smaller, more intimate space pulsed with energy, decked out like a private nightclub , where a few couples swayed to Spanish music under the prismatic glow of lights. Staff moved seamlessly among the crowd; their movements choreographed perfection, while their uniforms—a balance of practicality and haute couture—highlighted the wealth that surrounded them.

Each corner of the estate exuded thought and precision. From the soft, ambient lighting casting shadows on minimalistic art pieces to the way every surface seemed untouched yet lived in, the house wasn’t just a home; it was a living entity—one that whispered of brilliance, extravagance, and untold secrets.

Soon, before he knew it, corporate small talk had already grated on him; he’d barely resisted the urge to check his watch. Conversations about ‘exciting’ fiscal projections felt like sandpaper on his nerves, but years of navigating boardrooms had honed his stoic armor to perfection. He tilted his head just enough to feign interest in a junior analyst’s enthusiastic recounting of how they saved 0.5% on operational costs last quarter.

“Impressive,” he muttered, his voice so flat it was unclear whether he meant it or not. The analyst beamed anyway, oblivious.

His whiskey remained mostly untouched, a mere prop for these tedious rituals. He glanced down at the gold trim of the glass and thought fleetingly about hurling it through one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows—not out of anger, but for something more stimulating than listening to Steve from Compliance recount his golf trip.

“Nanami-san!” Steve called out, loud enough to turn heads. “What’s your handicap? Bet you’re deadly on the green.”

Nanami turned slowly, blinking once as if the words needed extra time to register. “I don’t play golf, Steve,” he replied, deadpan. “I have a job.”

Steve’s laugh was loud and awkward, his ego crumpling in on itself. Nanami allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction before turning back to the entrance, silently daring someone interesting to walk in and save him.

A marketing executive drifted over, a glass of champagne precariously balanced in one hand, their other already extended for a handshake. “Nanami, old sport!” the exec crowed, as though they’d survived war trenches together instead of working in adjacent departments.

“Hardly,” Nanami said, shaking their hand briefly before folding his arms, an unmistakable signal that the conversation was over before it began.

Then the intern appeared like a fly buzzing near a fresh wound, her enthusiasm bordering on suffocation. “Nanami-san, you look great tonight,” she gushed. “Is that Tom Ford? I could tell from a mile away!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes the moment he saw her making her way towards him from the other corner of the room. Her extremely short gold dress barely covered anything, highly inappropriate for co-worker parties. Where was HR when you needed them?

He regarded her with the kind of cool detachment that made people second-guess speaking to him in the first place. His response was little more than a nod, a gesture so dismissive it might as well have been punctuation. “Yes,” he replied curtly, sipping his whiskey for the first time just to end the interaction. The burn of alcohol was preferable to enduring another comment.

“I’ve never seen you in anything so... relaxed ,” she added, eyes wide as though he’d arrived in a Hawaiian shirt instead of a $25,000 ensemble.

Nanami considered a sarcastic remark— yes, I’m positively unhinged tonight with my gold cufflinks and tailored trousers —but decided against it. “Enjoy the party,” he said instead, his tone as warm as a January morning.

Her persistence, however, was unwavering, her enthusiasm grating on his last nerve. She was the type who delivered coffee he never asked for, lunches he didn’t need, flushed cheeks, and doe-eyed stares he couldn’t unsee. What he had initially dismissed as professional eagerness was now so obviously a crush that even the office ficus had likely noticed. He didn’t mind admirers so long as they kept their distance, but this one was suffocating. Tonight, he had a plan: feed her to his wife .

He let her ramble, tuning her out while his colleagues began their usual background drone: glowing self-praise about the last quarter’s financial performance. Occasionally, Nanami nodded, just enough to seem engaged while maintaining an expression that screamed, I’d rather be anywhere else .

Then a peer from Finance leaned in, his smirk as oily as his hair gel. “You’re quite the magnet tonight, Nanami. What’s your secret?”

“Competence,” Nanami replied, without missing a beat.

The peer’s laugh faltered into a cough as he quickly excused himself. Events like this always managed to sap what little energy he had left after work. First, they stole every waking moment with deadlines and deliverables, then they expected polite socializing in his so-called free time. It was, in his opinion, borderline sadistic. He took another sip of his whiskey, wishing—not for the first time—that he hadn’t shown up. He didn’t much care to mingle, despite appearances. These events were breeding grounds for insincerity, where pleasantries masked ulterior motives. His colleagues jumped him, juniors seeking advice on everything from office politics to investment strategies, while his peers probed for weaknesses under the guise of camaraderie.

Then, previously flanked by armed bodyguards, she walked in.

He felt it before he saw it—the slight shift in the room’s energy, the way conversations seemed to falter for half a second. When his eyes finally found her, it was like everything else dimmed in comparison.

Time didn’t stop—not in some romanticized way, but it slowed just enough to emphasize her entrance. Classy, confident, and untouchable. The sound of her heels on marble cut through the hum of conversation, subtle but commanding. The red rubies on her dress flowed like molten lava, catching the chandeliers’ light with every step. The slit revealed long, toned legs that seemed almost deliberately designed to catch the attention of every person in the room. Her movements were languid but purposeful, as though she were fully aware that the entire party had turned their focus toward her and didn’t mind in the slightest. The siren-like glint in her eyes warned anyone brave enough to approach.

Nanami’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the whiskey glass, his chest rising and falling in a controlled breath. His gaze locked on her instantly, though he couldn’t pinpoint what drew him first—the way her dress hugged her or the quiet authority in her stride. One moment, he was half-listening to his coworkers drone about quotas; the next, he was captivated .

“Who is she?” The intern whispered, her tone laced with poorly concealed jelousy.

Nanami didn’t look away, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Trouble,” he murmured, his voice low and even.

She didn’t need to seek attention—it sought her. Women flocked to her, showering her with warm greetings and effusive compliments. She reciprocated their affection with gracious smiles and her charm disarming even the iciest socialites. The men weren’t as brave, unsure whether to admire her or cower under her gaze—her siren-like aura daring any man to try their luck.

Except for one idiot.

Fucking Gojo.

Nanami’s jaw tightened as his white-haired colleague made a spectacle of himself, wrapping his arms around her from behind like an old friend reunited. Her face scrunched in irritation, a flash of disdain that Nanami couldn’t help but savor. But then she turned, her expression softening as she saw who it was. To his dismay, she hugged him back.

Nanami’s fingers curled harder around the glass of whiskey, the gold trim biting into his palm. Jealousy wasn’t his style— not like he wasn’t already married . But Gojo was a different story. The man had a knack for testing limits, his arrogance as boundless as his charm.

She, on the other hand, was the embodiment of contradictions: sharp yet soft, fun yet untouchable, her elegant demeanor veiling something far more dangerous. As if on cue, her eyes scanned the room lazily, not in search of anyone but allowing people to search for her.

And then their gazes locked. Her lips quirked into a knowing smirk, a silent dare.

Nanami’s breath hitched. Her smile—a challenge, a tease, a warning. His pulse quickened, a subtle betrayal against his otherwise calm exterior.

The intern beside him shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the weight of the unspoken connection between the two. Nanami almost pitied her. Almost. Definitely not.

His focus remained on the woman; she approached the bar with the kind of confidence that made the world rearrange itself around her. Even the bartender seemed to straighten his posture, offering her a champagne flute without so much as a question. Her long fingers, adorned with a curious glove-like jewelry piece , brushed the glass as she murmured her thanks, her tone effortlessly polite but laced with disinterest.

He didn’t notice the minutes slipping by; time blurred under the soft hum of chandeliers and the muted conversations he was no longer part of. Her every movement consumed his attention, the sway of her hips in that red silk dress a calculated provocation.

When she slipped through the gilded archway leading toward the bathrooms, his decision was already made.

Keeping his drink down, Nanami barely registered the figure stepping into his path until he heard the familiar sing-song voice that grated worse than nails on glass. “Nanami! Where’s your wife? Haven’t seen her yet tonight,” his rival cooed, wearing his trademark smug grin that Nanami fantasized about erasing.

“Still at work,” Nanami replied smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion but cutting enough to silence further prying. He didn’t slow, leaving behind muttered speculations about his sudden interest in someone other than his wife .

The hallways had the richness of the place amplified. The further he moved from the party, the quieter it became, the noise receding into a distant hum. The mansion’s grandeur became starker in the silence. High ceilings arched above, their ornate crown moldings gilded with gold that caught the soft light of sconces. The black marble floors shimmered under his polished shoes, stretching endlessly toward the private quarters. Staff passed like shadows flitting through the ethereal glow of this labyrinthine estate.

He paused in front of the bathroom door, glossy black with intricate gold fixtures, left slightly ajar as though inviting him in. The faintest sliver of light spilled out against the marble.

Knock. Knock. Two taps. Firm. Purposeful.

The response was immediate. The door cracked open, and before he could utter a word, her hand shot out, grabbing his shirt and yanking him inside with a force that surprised him.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud as he was shoved against it, followed by the decisive click of the lock. Her scent lingered in the air, both grounding and intoxicating, cutting through the bathroom . Then her mouth was on his, hot and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Not even a hello?” He murmured against her lips, his tone low, strained, yet laced with wry humor.

“Hello,” she whispered mockingly, her voice syrupy sweet, before pulling him back down. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, sending an electric jolt through him.

Oh, she was definitely a siren. He thought as she drew him in with effortless ease, leaving him half-convinced she could drag him into the ocean and he’d thank her for it.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, deft yet impatient. When one refused to cooperate, she let out a soft growl, yanking hard enough to send buttons scattering across the tiled floor.

“They’re custom,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice thick with effort. “My wife chose them.”

“No wonder they’re ugly,” she shot back, her smirk as sharp as a blade. “Send me the bill.”

Her sass drew a low chuckle from him, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. She was cutting through his composure so easily, leaving him disarmed in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

In a swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her against the full-length mirror. Her front hit the glass with a muted thud, the chill drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. For a moment, he held her there, his gaze sweeping over her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, pupils blown wide with a mix of defiance and desire.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror—a man undone, his hair disheveled, his usually sharp expression softened by raw hunger. He barely recognized himself, and for some reason, that didn’t bother him.

“Temptress. You’ve already got me obsessed,” his voice dark as he leaned down to press his lips to the curve of her ear.

“Stop talking,” she countered, her tone dripping with impatience. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan softly.

He obliged.

The kiss turned feral, finesse abandoned in favor of raw, unfiltered need. His hands roamed, the fabric slipping against her skin like water.

Once she turned in his arms, more of his buttons clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space as she ran her fingers on his chest then abs. The room filled with their gasps and whispered curses, the sterile luxury of the bathroom a backdrop to the pandemonium unfolding. She took off her handpiece, chucking it on the counter just to feel his skin against her fingertips unhindered.

Her scent was everywhere now, filling his lungs, embedding itself in his memory. It was familiar in a way, like déjà vu dancing on the edge of recognition. Unsettling, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Careful,” she murmured against his lips, her voice teasing. “You might just fall for me.”

Nanami pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “Highly unlikely,” he replied, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest smirk.

“Your loss,” she quipped, her voice light, but her hands circled around his shoulders, pulling him back toward her.

Whatever this was—whatever dangerous game they were playing—Nanami knew one thing: he didn’t want it to end.

The bathroom’s air carried a subtle mix of sandalwood, bergamot and cedarwood, understated yet lingering—a scent that seemed designed to make every breath feel curated, the kind of understated opulence that whispered money rather than screamed it

Yet for all its grandeur, it wasn't the decor that took center stage. It was the mess unfolding next to the countertop, where passion replaced polish.

Nanami now had her pressed against the large, mirror-backed counter, its polished surface now marred with the aftermath of their urgency—smudged fingerprints, scattered toiletries, and the faint condensation of their mingled heat. The cool marble against her back seemed to amplify the fire between them.

His grip was firm yet restrained, one hand steadying her thigh while the other trailed upward, tracing the daring slit of her dress with deliberate slowness. His fingers paused at the neckline, the silk sliding under his touch like water. His hold spoke of possession, but his eyes, half-lidded and burning, betrayed something deeper—curiosity, defiance, and a hunger he rarely let surface.

She kissed him again, her lips a demand he had no intention of denying. Teeth scraped against his lower lip, the sting pulling a soft groan from him that melted into a low chuckle. His hands roamed with precision, finding her waist, her hips, her breasts—each touch firm, unapologetic, and met with a sharp inhale or muffled moan. Every touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and disarray.

He lifted her with ease onto the countertop in one fluid motion. The chilled mirror behind her elicited a gasp as her dress slid higher at her thighs. Her legs tightened instinctively around him, pulling him closer.

“Not bad,” she teased breathlessly, her voice a mix of amusement and provocation.

Nanami’s lips quirked into a rare smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I aim to impress.”

Her laugh was soft, intoxicating, and far too knowing. “You’re getting there.”

Her scent enveloped him now—a crisp, briny ocean breeze tinged with something wild and woody, a sharp contrast to the muted, earthy warmth of the bathroom. It was a siren’s scent, designed to disarm, to enthrall, and it worked far too well.

The sounds of their frenzy filled the room, chaotic yet rhythmic. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving faint crescent imprints as if marking her territory.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he dropped to his knees, his large hands splaying across the backs of her thighs.

“On your knees already?” She started, her voice faltering as he pushed the fabric of her dress higher. His lips ghosted over her inner thigh, his breath warm and teasing.

“You talk too much,” he murmured, his tone flat but edged with mischief.

Her laugh turned into a gasp as he tore through the delicate lace of her underwear with his teeth, the sound of ripping fabric punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.

His mouth found her core, hot and demanding; his tongue moved with deliberate precision, drawing broken whispers from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, long nails digging into his scalp as she arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation.

Each touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and chaos. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as she raised her head, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

When his fingers joined the fray—one, then two, then three—she let out a muffled cry, her hands trembling as they gripped his hair tighter. The rhythm turned torturous, each stroke a ploy to keep her teetering on the edge.

“Quiet,” he murmured against her, though the command was half-hearted at best.

Her laugh, shaky and breathless, cut through the haze. “Make me.”

He obliged, taking off his shirt & shoving it into her mouth to muffle her moans.

The room, a masterpiece of design and decadence, bore silent witness to their undoing. The perfection of its lines, the care in its curation—all of it had melted away, leaving only raw, unbridled chaos in its place.

Her body trembled, hips bucking against his mouth. His tongue and fingers were moving in perfect harmony. Her mewles grew higher in pitch, her body arching further as the tension began to pool in her belly.

Nanami’s grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady as her body trembled beneath him. Her moans, muffled by his discarded shirt, vibrated against his chest as he felt the waves of her release pulse through her. She clawed his scalp, a claim he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t enjoy.

When she finally collapsed against the mirror, her breath came in uneven bursts, fogging the glass behind her. Her flushed face, her dress still bunched at her waist, chest rising and falling as aftershocks wracked her frame left her looking like Mayhem personified. Still, he didn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release like she was the finest wine.

Few moments passed, & Nanami stood, brushing the back of his hand against his lips, catching the faint taste of her. He was the picture of disheveled restraint—his hair tousled, his chest bare, and his trousers hanging low on his hips. The hunger in his eyes, however, was anything but restrained.

His gaze lingered on her as he reached for the straps of her dress. Tugging them down, he exposed her bare chest, the fabric sliding away like water until it pooled uselessly at her waist. Her breasts bounced with the movement, drawing a low growl from him that rumbled deep in his chest.

“Perfect,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he leaned down. His lips closed over one breast, flicking her nipple with his toung, while his hand found the other, his touch alternating between firm and teasing. She gasped, her back arching off the mirror as he bit gently before soothing with his tongue, leaving her gasping & mumbling incoherently, her voice ragged but threaded with laughter—the kind that would have thrown a lesser man off balance. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” She spoke against the fabric in her mouth.

He paused, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You started it.”

She smirked, sharper than the edge of the counter, biting into her legs. “And I’ll finish it.” She gestured.

Her hands fumbled with his waistband, still trembling but determined. The flicker of impatience in her eyes was oddly endearing, though he’d never admit it. Nanami stepped back slightly, watching as she struggled with his belt, her fingers clumsy but relentless, then the same belt clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space.

When she finally freed his cock, her hand paused holding it, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, his voice dropping into that smooth, sardonic tone.

“Shut up,” she muttered, voice muffled by the shirt.

He bit down lightly on her neck, one hand busy kneading her breast, while the other left faint crescent moons in the flesh of her ass.

Despite her reservations, her hand moved, slow at first, tentative strokes exploring him with a curiosity that bordered on reverence. The low "fuck" that escaped his lips emboldened her, and her fingers became bolder—squeezing at the tip, letting her thumb tease the slit, earning sharp hisses from him.

His control, usually ironclad, wavered, catching himself before her touch unraveled him entirely.

“Enough,” he growled, his hand wrapping around hers as he guided his cock to her.

She braced herself, her legs parted further instinctively as Nanami growled, guiding his cock toward her slick entrance. She mewled softly as he deliberately didn’t push in, instead teasing her, the thick head of his cock gliding against her swollen folds. The wet slide was maddening, the tension building as he refused to give her what she wanted. Her breath coming in shallow bursts as the tension coiled between them like a spring wound too tightly. Her eyes flashed with impatience, and the look of anger made him smirk through his own restraint. Then she hissed something, muffled, her voice low and threaded with irritation.

Nanami’s smirk was infuriating. “Patience.”

That patience didn’t last long. With a sharp thrust, he pushed inside her, his jaw clenching as she clenched around him, her walls tight and pulling him deeper. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust; the intensity of the moment mirrored in their matched gasps and muffled curses.

Once he was fully sheathed, the restraint snapped. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, forcing a loud, uncontrollable moan from her.

His pace turned brutal, his hips slamming against hers with a force that made the marble countertop tremble beneath them. Her cries morphed into curses, each one sharp and biting, and directed at him with a venom that only fueled his hunger.

“You—oh my God—” she let out a muffled gasp, head falling back against the mirror as he drove her higher.

Nanami leaned down, yanking the shirt from her mouth as he captured her lips in a messy, heated kiss. Her teeth immediately bite his lower lip, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. Their tongues clashed, the kiss more battle than affection, each one pushing and pulling, neither willing to yield.

Breaking away to catch his breath, Nanami's thrusts didn’t falter.

“Still talking?” he muttered against her lips.

“Shut up,” she replied, biting him again, the taste of him & herself lingering on her tongue.

His hips slammed against hers, forcing cries from her throat. Her nails raked down his back, desperate, as though she needed them to fuse on a molecular level.

Despite his relentless pace, his lips softened, trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and finally to her breasts. He nipped and sucked at the delicate skin; his attention split between breaking her apart with his cock and worshipping the parts of her he loved most.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room—a brutal rhythm that matched the pounding of her heartbeat. His hands roamed over her body, his nails leaving faint crescent moons in her thighs, her back, wherever he could reach.

Her body arched into him, trembling & walls tightening as another wave of pleasure threatened to overtake her. He knew she was close; his hand slid between them, his fingers finding her clit and circling it with a precision that left her gasping.

Her reaction was instant as she came with a sharp, keening cry, muffled when he cupped a hand over her mouth, entire body clenching around him as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“She’s sucking me in... so tight,” he murmured, voice hoarse, as his control finally broke. Movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep, his groan muffled against her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as his own climax surged through him, leaving him breathless and trembling. He barely managed to catch himself before collapsing onto her as the aftershocks rolled through him.

Two forces of chaos colliding. Neither of them moved, just staying for a bit; she rubbed his back as they caught their breaths, the occasional tremor running through her as she adjusted to the lingering sensitivity.

The bathroom was a battlefield of indulgence and chaos. Perfume bottles lay toppled on the black marble counter, the delicate crystal shimmering under the ambient lighting. A faint mist lingered in the air, clouding the oversized mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing distorted reflections of disheveled hair, flushed skin, and heat that had yet to fully dissipate. The mingling scents of bergamot, cedar, and salt—the sharp tang of the ocean—clung to the air, layered with the undeniable intimacy of their aftermath. Despite the mess around them, the silence between them felt clean, untouched by the outside world.

Soon her fingers were idly tracing patterns on his back, grazing over faint red marks she’d left moments before. When she finally broke the silence, her voice was teasing but warm, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Your technique hasn’t changed.”

Nanami froze, the words cutting through the lingering haze like a cold blade. He pulled back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” she replied, her tone deliberate and light as she brushed her fingers along his jaw. Her touch was deceptively soft, almost disarming.

Before he could spiral into overthinking, she laughed—a sound both melodic and cutting, slicing through his composure with surgical precision. “Relax, Mr. Nanami,” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m just grateful for the first million you invested in my company when no one else would even hear me out.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as realization dawned, corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Mrs. L/N,” he said dryly, his voice laced with equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Should I prepare my chequebook again?”

“Always,” she quipped, her smirk softening as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his with a familiarity that belied the game they’d been playing all evening.

“You’re still mine, Kento,” she murmured against his ear—almost biting them, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Straightening himself, hand lingering at her waist, he pulled her closer to hold as the reality of her presence grounded him. When they finally pulled apart, her tone shifted. “Nice house, by the way.”

“Thank you, Mrs. L/N,” he replied, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The simple gesture felt intimate, grounding, a contrast to the disarray they’d left in their wake. He arched a brow, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Though I do have to ask—what was the dress for?”

Her smirk deepened, her silence deliberate.

“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of affection and exasperation. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“I was informed that you looked miserable out there,” she said simply, shrugging with nonchalance that only made her look more self-assured. “Your coworkers are vultures. I couldn’t just stand by and watch you suffer.”

His exhale was slow, measured, but his forehead dropped against hers, his voice softening. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me plenty,” she countered, her hands sliding over his chest with a teasing confidence. “But I’m not done yet. My company just hit a billion-dollar valuation, which means—"she smirked, her tone mock-serious—"you can finally quit working for those corporate overlords. Effective immediately.”

Nanami blinked, her words settling in slowly. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a single raised finger.

“And don’t start with the ‘backup plan’ speech,” she added, rolling her eyes in dramatic exasperation. “I’ve secured enough for the next fifteen generations to sit around and squander. You’re free, Ken. ”

He let out a long exhale, relief washing over him like a tide pulling him out to calmer seas. His hands tightened gently at her waist as he pulled her closer, his forehead brushing hers again.

“I can finally retire,” he mused, a rare chuckle breaking the steady timbre of his voice. “What a dream.”

Her grin was wicked and teasing. “Don’t worry, I’ll deck you out with butlers, drivers, private pilots—the works.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” she said, her voice lighter now, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before stepping down. She fixed her dress, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting as if it had never been touched. After quickly rinsing & drying her hands, she shuffled for something in the drawer below the sink counter, then gestured Nanami to turn around, who obliged and then winced as she sprayed antiseptic healing spray on her nail scratches on his back. Then, putting it back with one hand while she rubbed his shoulder with the other, soon she adorned her handpiece again.

“Now, pack your bags. We’re going on a month-long vacation. We’ve barely seen each other this quarter.” Her tone practical, though the playful glint in her eyes was still sparkling while Nanami, who knelt on one knee to zip up her askew heels with a gentle touch. This was a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor; he radiated a quiet eagerness to serve her, even if she had never asked for it—or even forbade him from kneeling—for anyone, including herself. His care for her was unwavering, as he found joy in these small devotions.

Raising up to his full height, Nanami tilted his head, arching a brow. “When do we leave?”

“An hour.” Her smirk was maddeningly smug, the kind that always made him want to both kiss her and roll his eyes. “Don’t worry about clothes—we’ll buy what we need when we get there.”

His frown deepened slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door. “The house is still full of people.”

She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “The white-haired menace can handle it.”

As if summoned, a sharp knock echoed against the ornate black and gold bathroom door.

“Nanami,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice called out, muffled yet infuriatingly cheerful. “I know you told me not to disturb you, but if you want to leave on time, you should probably come out now.”

Nanami groaned audibly, burying his face in her hair. “I hate that he knows us so well. Or worse, that he was probably hovering outside.”

Her laugh bubbled up, light and unrestrained, as she turned to press a soft kiss to his nose. “Good thing no one will know,” she teased, her tone laced with mischief as she nodded toward the party still raging beyond the door.

“Small mercies,” he muttered. His hand reached down, scooping up her ripped panties. He shoved them into his pocket—a gesture equal parts practical and ridiculous. Housekeeping didn’t need to discover that.

He reached for his ruined shirt & still-ok belt while his cufflinks were probably lost to the similarly colored lines in the bathroom floor’s marble. Sighing, he shrugged the shirt on. With most of the buttons broken, the fabric barely clung to him, but he managed enough to appear vaguely presentable, then did his belt & washed his hands. Before stepping out, he winked at her, his rare smirk making her laugh again as she leaned on the counter, ogling him.

Walking out of the bathroom, Nanami was immediately engulfed by the sheer scale of the mansion. The vaulted ceilings soared above him, an intricate lattice of brass and black lines reminiscent of sharp geometry. Recessed lighting cast a warm, almost ethereal glow over the polished marble floors, their obsidian surface streaked with veins of gold that seemed to shimmer with every step.

Security was seamlessly integrated into the decor—discreet cameras nestled within decorative sconces, motion sensors hidden within the intricate carvings of doorframes, and biometric panels that blended effortlessly with the black lacquered walls.

Gojo leaned casually against the wall near the bathroom door, his smirk as sharp as the lapels on his bespoke electric blue suit. “Well, well,” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “Looks like someone had a productive break.”

Nanami cast him a withering glare, brushing past him without a word.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo called after him, clearly undeterred. “Your secret’s safe with me. Well Mostly .”

Nanami strode into his bedroom, its absurd luxury understated yet undeniable once he unlocked it’s door with his thumb. Warm recessed lighting bathed the space in a golden hue, highlighting the polished marble floors and the California king bed draped in silk sheets that whispered decadence with every subtle fold. The walls were a study in contrasts—one side a sweeping expanse of black glass overlooking the estate, the other adorned with minimalist art deco patterns in gold and dark maroon.

A walk-in closet occupied one corner of the room, its glossy black doors sliding open with a faint hum. Rows of designer suits, pressed shirts, and tailored trousers moved along tracks, neatly organized by color, fabric, and season. It wasn’t just a closet—it was an AI-driven sartorial fortress.

Gojo trailed behind Nanami, Martini glass in hand, his ever-present grin practically glowing under the warm light of the bedroom.

Nanami shrugged off his ruined shirt, revealing faint nail marks trailing down his back.

Gojo’s exaggerated gasp was immediate. “Knew you were freaks,” he declared, grinning like a cat who’d just discovered a fresh bowl of cream.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nanami replied, his tone dry as he waited for the first shirt the AI closet presented.

The automated system whirred softly, its sleek black panels sliding open to reveal a neatly arranged selection of tailored clothing. The closet’s AI chimed in, its voice smooth and masculine: “Good evening, Mr. Nanami. May I suggest the Maurizio Miri blue Sam Arold , double-breasted blazer for optimal sophistication?”

“No, a white shirt will be enough for now. Thank you.” Nanami replied smoothly as the closet handed him the shirt.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “Hold up, your closet talks?”

Nanami buttoned up the crisp white shirt, the fabric molding to him like it had been made yesterday, which it probably had been. A subtle reminder of how far he—and this house—stood from anything resembling average. “Of course it talks. Everything here does. Wife is particular about it,” he muttered, casually pulling out a certain incriminating piece of fabric from his pocket & tossing it into the hidden incinerator bin while Gojo eyed the AI.

Then Gojo leaned closer to the closet; his curiosity piqued. “Hey, Mr. Closet—do you take orders? I need something that makes me look like a billionaire without actually trying. Extra points if it comes with a holographic logo of the Gojo Clan.” Gojo didn’t have such bad likes; he just enjoyed being a menace.

The AI responded without missing a beat. “My name is Winston, & I’m sorry, sir. My services are exclusive to Mr. Nanami. While I assure you, no attire could enhance perfection.”

Nanami’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. “Even the closet knows you’re insufferable.”

“Hey, I like this guy!” Gojo shot back, pointing at the sleek black panel like it was a long-lost friend. “At least he has taste.”

The AI, apparently more than willing to engage, added, “Taste, sir, is precisely what you lack.”

Nanami turned away, struggling to suppress his laughter, as Gojo gawked. “Traitor! I’m officially boycotting this brand,” Gojo declared, though his curiosity kept him glued to the closet. “Btw what brand are you.”

Nanami smacked his arm. “Do you forget my wife invents AIs for a living, among other things?”

Gojo shrugged, “I didn’t know it was one of hers.”

As Nanami folded his sleeves up again, Gojo shot one last look at the closet. “You’re lucky I’m a forgiving man, Mr. Closet-Winston. Once I babysit this house, bet you’ll miss me when I leave.”

“I highly doubt that,” the AI replied, its tone impossibly smooth.

Gojo huffed, muttering something about finding an AI closet with better taste, while Nanami finally allowed a small smirk to surface.

Once out of the closet, Gojo chirped, “Aren’t you going to thank me for organizing this amazing party?”

Nanami took the whisky glass Gojo handed him, savoring a slow sip. “Thank you, Gojo, for organizing this party,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not like we paid for it or anything.”

“Fair,” Gojo replied, recovering quickly with a shrug. “But I still expect to cash in the favor someday.”

Nanami nodded, flooding his sleeves with practiced precision before striding back toward the party.

Gojo followed on his heels like an overenthusiastic puppy, Martini in hand. Then looking back at the sentinel closet, he mused. “I need one of these. Think the wife will help me place an order?”

“She’s not your wife,” Nanami deadpanned, savouring the whisky burn as he sipped.

Once they had stepped into the grand ballroom, Nanami’s gaze swept over the room. Gojo, meanwhile, leaned in conspiratorially.

“So,” he began, his grin as infuriating as ever, “how was she?”

His gaze immediately found her. She stood along the far wall; an expansive bar carved from obsidian and gold stood like a centerpiece, its surface laden with bottles of rare vintages.

He didn’t falter in his reply, expression flat. “She’s a woman, Gojo. Not a secret.”

Gojo smirked as Nanami ignored the conspiratorial knowing smirks and whispers that seemed to surround him.

His gaze lingered as she laughed warmly, her head tilted slightly, the sound unguarded and genuine. She was speaking to two women he vaguely recognized as the CTO and CFO of her company, their expressions a mix of respect and admiration. For a moment, he simply watched. Despite himself, Nanami felt a rare sense of pride.

Just as he was about to make his way to her, a voice sliced through the moment.

“Nanami-san! There you are!”

The same intern with an unfortunate crush on him had caught sight of him again, waving over one of her equally annoying cohorts, a smug backstabbing bitch of a coworker Nanami didn’t even bother to remember the name of. They approached like vultures, the intern’s over-the-top enthusiasm clashing painfully with the coworker’s grimey smirk.

“Nanami-san!” she chirped, clasping her hands together. “This house is incredible! You must feel so inspired here.”

“I feel inspired to have another drink,” Nanami deadpanned, raising his glass slightly before taking a sip.

The coworker, clearly fishing for gossip, leaned in. “Yeah, no kidding. So, where’s your wife we’ve all heard so much about?” He practically sang the last part, his tone dripping with mockery. “Must be so busy to miss an event like this.”

Listening to this, Gojo moved closer to Nanami’s side like chaos incarnate, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, you haven’t met her yet?” he asked, his grin practically weaponized. “Tsk, tsk, Nanami, keeping secrets from your best friends .”

The coworker scowled at the jab.

The intern blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Nanami bit back a smirk, swirling his whisky lazily in his glass.

When the intern finally recovered, her tone turned defensive. “Well, he’s never mentioned her to me!”

Nanami’s expression darkened, his patience stretching to its breaking point. One thing he wasn’t—had never been—was unfaithful. And this implication, no matter how cluelessly delivered, crossed a line.

Yet Gojo wasn’t finished. He turned his full attention to the intern, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know, he does talk about her all the time. But I guess you two must not hang out much, huh? Just acquaintances, then.”

“Excuse me?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, each syllable cutting.

The intern, oblivious to the shift in tone, pressed on. “You never mentioned you were married—”

“Please,” arching a brow, he interrupted, his expression one of detached amusement. “Do not imply that I’ve hidden my marriage. I’ve been married for years and have never avoided speaking about my wife when asked. If you’re unaware, perhaps that says more about you than it does about me.” Each word measured and sharp. It’s not like he cared to keep his job anymore anyway.

The intern blinked, stunned into silence.

Gojo erupted into laughter, clapping him on the back. “Kento, you’re killing it tonight. Who’s next on the chopping block?”

Without waiting for a response, Nanami brushed past them, his focus already shifting back to her. Gojo, naturally, wasn’t done yet. Turning back with a smirk, he delivered one final dig.

“He talks about her all the time with his friends. Trust me, I’d know since I’m his best friend. I know all his secrets ,” he said lightly. “Guess you’re just colleagues.” Nanami could hear the mockery directed at his coworkers, with a hint of possessiveness over their friendship in Gojo’s voice, along with the intern’s sputtering, behind him.

Once he approached, his hand slid around her waist, the gesture subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn’t a public claim so much as a quiet reassurance, a tether grounding him in the chaos of the room.

She turned to him, her smirk softening into something more intimate as she acknowledged the unspoken exchange.

“Hello,” he murmured, inclining his head with a faint smile toward the women she’d been speaking with. They were better than his coworkers; hence they were hired.

As Gojo approached them behind Nanami, she introduced him smoothly, her tone warm yet commanding. “Ladies, my closest friend, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo’s professional smirk slipped into place with practiced ease. “A pleasure,” he said simply, his arm resting on Nanami’s shoulder again.

The conversation progressed for a bit before the sound of glass clinking drew their attention.

“Everyone!” Gojo’s voice rang out, cheerful and uncontainable. He was sitting atop the bar, manspreading, grin wide enough to rival the chandelier’s glow. “A toast to the lovely couple!”

Heads turned toward them, though many had already been stealing glances at her all evening while others were glaring daggers at Nanami.

Nanami cleared his throat, voice steady, effortlessly commanding the room. “Thank you all for coming to our housewarming party,” he began, his tone formal but with a warmth that felt uncharacteristic. His hand rested securely on her waist. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Y/N L/N. She’s my wife. She’s the one who bought us this house.”

A ripple of polite claps followed, though Nanami wasn’t finished.

“She hasn’t visited my office because she’s been working tirelessly on her company, Curse Cop, which, as of today, has officially reached a billion-dollar valuation.” He paused, his voice softening as he glanced at her, unguarded admiration flickering across his face. “Please, drink to your heart’s content, because starting tomorrow, I’ll be on vacation with her—and I’ll also be stepping down as Finance Director to spend more time with my wife, as I promised her.”

The room erupted in applause and a few ‘awws’ from mostly female guests, though Nanami barely noticed. His focus remained on her as she looked up at him, her expression a blend of amusement and affection.

From somewhere behind them, he heard whispers, envy poorly concealed.

“How’d he even get with her?” one muttered.

“It makes sense,” another replied begrudgingly. “He’s the kind of man every woman wants.”

But none of it mattered. Nanami leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, as if the room around them didn’t exist.

For him, in that moment, it didn’t.

Soon the evening had progressed—Nanami was comfortably leaning against the bar, whisky in hand, Gojo, still on top of the bar, flanking him as usual, when the intern caught sight of Y/N between them.

She stumbled her way toward her, clearly drunk, with newfound boldness, her barely-there dress doing little to enhance her sense of professionalism. Nanami’s lips twitched as he watched the scene unfold, hiding his amusement behind his glass. He wasn’t much for unnecessary public fights, but he was waiting for this one since she had really become a nuisance for him over the months, hence the reason she was invited today.

“Y/N,” Gojo whispered, sidling closer to her as she inquired about the launch of their latest multiplayer game with the COO of her company. “See that girl over there?”

Pausing, she glanced over, her brow arching slightly as she clocked the intern making a beeline toward her.

“That one’s been after Kento for months,” Gojo murmured, his grin wicked. “Unrequited coffee deliveries, surprise lunches... the works. You’re about to have front-row seats to her grand finale.” He had noticed it all while visiting Nanami’s office, along with Nanami’s look of frustration when she wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, her expression remaining poised as she turned fully to face the intern. The air around her seemed to shift, her unapproachable aura sharpening to something razor-edged.

The intern, blissfully unaware, extended a hand, her confidence teetering on arrogance. “Hi! I’m Nat. I work closely with Nanami-san in finance. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked briefly to the outstretched hand before returning to the intern’s face, her expression neutral but distinctly unimpressed. “Oh?” she said coolly. “And what are you to him?”

The intern faltered, her hand dropping slightly. “I... like I said, I work with Nanami-san! He’s been so helpful to me in the office. Such a great mentor.”

Turning his head from his vantage point, Nanami’s smirk widened as he took another slow sip of whisky. He had actively avoided helping her since he discovered her hidden agenda.

“Is that so?” Y/N replied, tilting her head slightly. “And what exactly have you learned from him?”

The intern brightened, eager to elaborate. “Oh, just... everything, really! He’s so dedicated and focused. I can see why you married him.”

There was a pause—a beat of silence that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. Then Y/N smiled, and it wasn’t kind.

“I see,” she said, her tone dripping with polite venom. “And yet, here you are, at a party in our house, introducing yourself to me like you’re a stranger. How odd for someone who claims to work so ‘closely’ with my husband.”

The intern’s expression wavered, a flicker of panic breaking through her confident facade. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Y/N interrupted smoothly, her smile widening. “To sound presumptuous? To overstep? Or to assume familiarity where there is none?”

Gojo, now openly laughing, gestured to Nanami, “Remind me never to piss your wife off.”

The intern stammered something unintelligible before finally scoffing & retreating, her confidence crumbling as she melted back into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to the COO, now flanked by CTO and CFO without so much as a backward glance as they dragged her off to introduce a potential investor, the conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.

Turning straight, Nanami finally let his smirk show, raising his glass toward Y/N in a silent toast.

She caught his eye, the faintest curve of her lips betraying her amusement, before she returned her attention to her companions.

“Worth every penny,” Gojo muttered under his breath, clinking his glass against Nanami’s.

“Agreed,” Nanami replied, his tone calm but his eyes glinting with mirth.

A/N: You thought Kento would cheat huh ☜(ˆ▿ˆc) Thanks for diving into this tangled mess of lust & love. If you caught the twist & liked it (or even hated it), drop a comment. I live for your chaos & crave your feedback like Nanami craves his wife. 🖤

Masterlist

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billk4ulitzsecretlvr · 4 months ago

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☆ |` There's A First

For Everything... `| ☆

By billk4ulitzsecretlvr

☆THIS FIC CONTAINS : 2012!Tom x 2008!Bill . Fluff / slight smut .not realy . ,mainly fluff .

AUTHORS NOTE ☆; Hi :] I have not written in so long but ,I am back now . I wanted to write this as a cute fluff to write ,after I spoke with a anonymous about favorite eras ,and I just think this is cute idea . Also !I am using Bills viva comet 2008 look for this:)

Enjoy ,! Or don't ;) .

Bill and Tom had just gotten back from dinner, a nice restaurant. It was a Friday, nothing out of the ordinary for the brothers.

It was a quiet night, calm and collect.. which Bill was always a fan of. Sure, he liked parties and high energy, but with Tom, he liked the quiet and sensual feelings of their presences together.

Tom was driving, fitting evenly in the Cadillac. One hand was on the steering wheel whereas the other was on the arm rest. He flicked his tongue over his lip ring, the man's long dreads fell over his shoulders. Toms body was adorned in baggy jeans of course, and a V-neck shirt that seemed especially tight around his chest.

It didn't go without notice by Bill, but after all.. nothing really seemed to. Bill loved Tom, he'd give the man the moon if he could. It was only natural that Bill spent all the time he could with Tom to just ogle him and admire his older brother.

Speaking of Bill, he sat small in the Cadillac seat. His knees were to his chest as he averted his eyes out the window, the bright city lights of Berlin reflected saturatedly in his pupils.

He was small, Tom had a lot of muscle mass.. whereas Bill was thin, boney, Tom loved touch him. He was so easy to squeeze, to coddle.. he was so much smaller than Tom. It made him feel in charge, to know his physique was enough to intimidate Bill.

Bill had a decent length of black hair, it framed his face nicely and softly. His clothes didn't sit uncomfortable tight on his body, but it definitely showed off his form. He leaned against the car door.

Once Bill and Tom pulled into the drive way, each of them slugged themselves out of the car and into the house.

Bill had moved in with Tom just a few months back, living with their parents had become a little too much for him and Tom had offered anyhow.

Bill greeted their dog, Scotty. He crouched down and pet the dog, smiling softly yet tiredly.

Tom smirked, petting Bill's hair in a teasing way as Bill stood up. The man kissed Bill's soft lips, a long and appreciating kiss.. which Bill reciprocated. He felt Tom touch his lower back and pat it a couple times to let him know to let go, and once Bill did.. he grabbed Bill's hand and took the boy upstairs.

When they were upstairs, in the master bedroom doorway, they began to kiss again.. a bit more passionately.

Their tongues touched repetitively, Tom's tongue grazing Bill's tongue ring as they both fought for some sort of control. Tom's hands ran down Bill's dainty waist.. touching the back of his thighs as the boy tripped back over the bed.

Tom smirked again, pushing Bill back and kneeling between the youngers legs. One knee on the bed, the other foot keeping him planted on the ground.

Toms long locks fell over his shoulders and dangled between their chests, tickling Bills neck enough to make him recoil a bit and smile.

He touched Tom's muscular arms, feeling his warm skin where the T-shirt sleeves ended. He sighed softly, feeling Tom break the kiss to tickle his neck with his tongue.

"Tom," he giggled quietly.

Tom snickered, trailing his kisses up to Bill's ear and nibbling on his earlobe.

Bill bit his lower lip softly, looking up at Tom, who was still cornering him against the bed. Tom had eventually pushed Bill up on the bed, enough so that he could crawl between bills knees and smother the boy in affection.

The boy kept his hand on Tom's head, keeping his mouth against his neck.. Bill felt the soft stubble of toms facial hair, which he was always strangely fond about?

He felt Tom press his body into his own a little bit, causing the boy to tighten his knees on toms waist.

Tom grabbed Bills legs and pulled him tighter around his own waist, pressing their groins together as the boys focused on making out.

Bill felt slight pressure in his groin region, frightening him just a bit before he realized it was Tom pressing on him. He bit toms lower lip and looked down at their bodies after pulling away, feeling himself grind slightly against Tom.

"So pretty," Tom muttered, "So small." He said softly.

Bill looked down at his thin body in comparison to Tom's more muscular one, finding he enjoyed the physique difference quite a bit.

"I could break you like a stick," he joked, pinching Bill's tummy.

Bill giggled, swatting toms hand away. Tom soon replaced that hand near Bills face, pushing his bangs out of his face. Tom kissed Bill's cheek, but eventually bent down to push Bill's shirt off to kiss his stomach, Bill cupping his face. He quietly gasped when Tom kissed his stomach, arching his back slightly.

Tom held his arms around Bill's waist tightly, keeping him in place.

He licked Bill's star tattoo, sucking on the skin and leaving a small hickey. The man brought his face down to Bills jeans, licking up the tight fabric which put Bills head in a haze.

Bill closed his eyes; he felt butterflies in his stomach as Tom did so.. since Tom's face had never been so close to Bills lower region before. Bill caressed Tom's hair as the man worked.. but he wasn't sure if he was completely fine with this.

He zoned out until he felt the cool air on his lap, Tom had pulled his pants down enough to show his briefs.. the thin, stretchy fabric leaving his lower body just slightly colder than the rest due to the decrease of coverage.

Bill pushed Tom's hands away, his eyes a bit wide.

"Tom-" he paused. The man stopped in his tracks, looking up at Bill.

They had never quite gotten this far.. as weird as that seems, they'd been living together for all their lives.. but since they moved into Tom's flat, you would have thought that the boys would have gotten up to things.. but it seemed like the recency of their relationship was being taken slow.

Theyd made out plenty, kissed plenty.. but other than simply getting quite comfortable with each other's torsos.. nothing really took place.

"Yeah? Are you alright?" Tom asked, his expression tender as he looked down at Bill.

Bill nodded, "I'm just.. not sure if I want to take things far like that yet." He clarified.

Tom smiled softly, "We don't have to," he mumbled.

Bill nodded, looking up at Tom. He stayed quiet against the bed, watching Tom move up to kiss his tummy again.. the familiar sensation was one of Bill's favorites and he knew that.

"Why don't we just lay down?" Tom asked quietly, Bill's sleepy eyes agreed. He nodded again.

Tom moved from between Bill's knees, propping himself up to lay next to the boy. Bill couldn't be bothered to rebutton his pants.. so he just kicked them off along with his shoes, laying on his side as he faced Tom.

Tom reached his hand out to play with Bill's hair, which the younger always enjoyed.. Tom had inevitably pulled the boy close, pressing their bodies together as he littered Bill's neck with kisses.

"You're so cute," he whispered, combing a hand through the boys hair.

Bill smiled, biting his lip as he put a hand on Tom's hair, rubbing his locks.

Bill had ended up on his back again, Tom laying between his legs as the man sucked dark spots onto his neck.. he held toms head close as they just relaxed.. letting the night soothe their stress as the brothers calmly enjoyed each other's presence.

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sissylittlefeather · 5 months ago

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I never dreamed I would do this.

But I have fallen on some really hard times financially. I'm unemployed and my car needs about $2k worth of repairs.

If you've ever read one of my fics and thought "gee, I'd sure love to send her something to show my appreciation..."

Now you can.

Here is my Ko-fi.

This is absolutely not required and I will keep writing and letting anyone access them for free, but any donation would be greatly appreciated.

If only Elvis was around to buy me a Cadillac...

Pics of our boy in a car to make this better:

Reblog and add your fave Elvis-in-a-car pics?

(That might be tacky. I'm sorry)

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #fic writer #fanfiction writer #help me i'm poor

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darkinfinity · 9 months ago

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Happy 28! Here are all the fics I read and enjoyed this past month!

☁ Call out my name by lesbidirection (E, 101k)

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

A soulmate AU where two lovers find each other entirly by accident, featuring photoshoots, Gucci suits, too many takeaways, having sex and feeling sad, an alpha who feels lost, and the omega that finds him. It shouldn't be this easy, but it is.

☁ don't be afraid to love (and love again) by @voulezloux (T, 83k)

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

☁ Wither & Bloom by @dizzy-pixie17 (E, 65k)

No one knows that legendary Harry Styles is an omega. The record label, the fans, and even his family have no idea, leading to a very isolated and very lonely life for Harry. He knows it's for the best. Otherwise, he'd never have the career he wanted and he contents himself in the knowledge that he's not the only one. But when Harry injures his voice during a performance, his manager hires a new vocal coach to help put him to rights. Cue Louis Tomlinson, the sweetest, sexiest, kindest alpha in the world, stepped right out of Harry's dizziest daydreams. While Louis tries to figure out why there's something so incredibly un-alpha-like about 'Alpha-King of Pop' Harry Styles, Harry is busy trying to control his omega's undeniable urge to throw himself at the object of his infatuation.

Amid an accidental misgendering, getting slick in public, tour bus snuggles with awkward boners, and unprovoked drops, Harry will have to choose whether he wants to keep living a lie for the sake of remaining in the spotlight or if he'll sacrifice everything to be with the man he loves… Assuming Louis ever comes back.

☁ Give me love by @falsegoodnight & @soldouthaz (E, 41k)

Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

Or, Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

☁ Freeway of love (in a pink Cadillac) by @mizzhydes (E, 33k)

Louis was on his way to Miami to visit an old friend. Harry was going there for a little R&R and take in the sights and sounds. A sudden upgrade in seating brought these polar opposites together. The universe works in mysterious ways and they are unknowingly about to embark on an adventure they will surely remember for a lifetime.

Prompt 107: Sugar daddy AU inspired by this tweet: “going to sit next to the richest looking middle aged man on my flight and scroll through my nudes for three hours straight” with rich daddy Harry and bratty baby Louis

☁ this brokenness inside me might start healing by @loveislarryislove (T, 29k)

Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do.

But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.

☁ Cuddlebug by sun_flowr (Not rated, 19k)

When the call from the adoption agency finally calls, Harry and Louis are surprised to discover that they have been tentatively paired with a young pup named Rami, who suffers from a multitude of issues stemming from the abandonment he’s suffered. But no matter the challenges, they know they will do everything they can to care for and love this pup as if he was their own.

Prompt: a/b/o established relationship where they finally go adopt a child and find a toddler with touch depri/abandonment issues and they build him a nest and comfort him

☁ Stars will align for us by @2tiedships2 (Not rated, 15k)

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis…especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

☁ now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie (T, 5k)

Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all.

This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?

☁ Send me your pillow (the one that you dream on) by fairytalefemme (G, 3k)

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

Short fluffy o/o gaybo drabble with lots of cuddles and softness and sock stealing <3

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry fics #may fic rec #larry fanfiction #my fic recs

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Leader of the Landslide 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, alcoholism, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life with your alcoholic mother is tough and you problems only mount when the local sheriff takes an interest in you.

Character: Lee Bodecker

Note: I'm so tireddddddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The mobile home creaks with your movement. The tight walls of your room watch you dig around under your bed frame, retrieving the empty tea tin from under the slats. You pop off the lid as you sit back on your heels and slip out the small roll of bills. You keep cotton balls in the bottom to keep the coins from jingling, not wanting any listening ears to suss out your stash.

You take what you need and put the rest back. You snake your arm up to replace the canister in your hiding spot. You stand and dusty off your knees, the worn denim fading and thinning. You tuck the bills in your back pocket and grab your flannel jacket from the bed post.

You look around the cramped space, a modest and meagre dwelling place. You don't think too much about it, you’ve never known any better. Just like the big spenders in their shiny cadillacs don't give you much thought. You find that money can only bring trouble.

You go out into the living room. Your ma's sprawled on the couch, one leg over the edge, yesterday's newspaper over her head, and an arm dangling like there's no drop of life left in her. You go to the slender counter set under the narrow cupboards and put the kettle on the single burner. You pop open the cupboard door and grab the instant coffee, adding a healthy dose to an empty mug.

"Ma," you say in a crusty tone, throat dry from sleep, "coffee."

"Eh," she mutters but doesn't unveil herself from beneath the newsprint.

"I'm gonna grab some groceries on the way home tonight," you explain as you cross your arms and lean against the wall across from the short couch where she languishes, "why didn't you take out the bed?"

She grumbles and the newspaper slips off of her as she props her head up. She wobbles as she squints across at the dinette that converts to a cozy double. She shakes her head and lays flat again. You don't fail to notice the empty bottle beside her.

"Alright, then, I gotta head down to Ernie's. I'll make dinner tonight," you suggest.

She waves you off and pulls the newspaper closer to her face, hiding behind it.

"Think ya can grab more whiskey?" She croaks from beneath.

"You got whiskey money?" You challenge with a sigh, "ma, it ain't good for ya."

"Don't tell me what's good for me. I raised ya," she barks as she rips the newspaper away and sits up, nearly keeling over as she winces with her whole body, "urgh, what're you rilin' me up for?"

"Water's boiling," you say as you check your watch, the one with the silver chain your granny gave you before she passed. "If you gotta puke, do it outside."

"Aw, baby, please," she shakes and touches her temples, "don't leave me. I can't do it alone--"

"Ma, you just gotta pour the water and stir. It's that instant stuff."

She harrumphs but doesn't argue as you're already at the door. You pull open the door and let it close heavily at your back as you tramp down the front steps. You button up your wool-lined flannel as you come down to ground level, your boots kicking up dust.

You head up between the rows of mobile homes. Most of them are nicer than your own. The paint on the siding isn't all chipped and the doors don't creak so loud. Plus, there isn't a mess of dead plants rotting away in the garden plot.

As you head past Theo's picnic table with the bright red umbrella, the nose of a car pokes around from the next row. You stop and watch the cruiser roll by, a sheriff's star emblazoned on the brown paint. It's not that unusual to see a cop hanging around, they like to rove the area for vagrants.

The man in the front seat turns his head as he passes, meeting your eye with a nod. You don't know him, you've never seen him before, but his hat makes him seem rather fancy. He must be high up. You don't know why he's hanging around there if he is.

You wait until he's past you and cross the row and head up towards the entrance of the community. The place is an assortment of wealthy city slickers vacationing, comfy middle classers with their tots, and the dregs like yourself and your mother, living on pennies and nickels.

Work isn't far. You sit at the desk in Ernie's shop and tell the folks where to park their beaters and lemons. The men talk loudly over engines as you throw Rufus' bone and watch him bring it back to you. The place is quaint and a bit shady, but the only job that would have you.

You walk in and greet the old bloodhound as he raises his wrinkly face. He gets up, he rarely does that for anyone else, and follows you to the wooden desk where you perch and drink the burnt coffee they have on the burner. He lays at the foot of your stool as you say hello to the first mechanic through the door. Glenn doesn't seem to hear or see you as he pulls down his cap and ducks into the garage.

The smell of autumn creeps in from the open door of the garage, blowing into your little nook. A lady with tattered tights shows up with a rattling pipe and you call in Jethro to have a look. She gives him a look, the type that may get her a lower price on the second-hand part.

You pull out the book you keep lodged underneath the desk with the cup of pencils and receipt pad. You open it, the broken spine laying flat as you read and pet the lazy dog's snout as he leans his large head on your leg.

The day wiles by as usual. Not abnormal, nothing out of order. The mechanics hang up their overalls and leave oil stained rags in the crate. You take those down to the laundromat on Wednesdays.

Ernie locks up as you leave, offering you a drive to the grocer that you gratefully accept. There, you walk the aisles with your list, choosing between one staple and another to fit your budget. A bag of rice will go further than potatoes.

You leave with a paper bag full of goods. A good amount to stretch until your next pay. You take your usual path back, cutting through the path behind Alfred Horsk's stables.

You enter the park. A man rakes his front lawn despite the leaf fall being sparse. Nellie, the old woman who complains about your torn jeans, sends a glare as you pass, and you shoulder her out of your mind as you turn down the far row.

Your mother's dented mobile home beckons you forth. You have no illusions, you know what people think, you know what they've seen. Your mother is hardly the paragon of virtue. And your father, while you don't know who he is, you're certain he's a deadbeat.

You slow as you approach. A white and brown cruiser is parked at an angle, just in the space between your mother's trailer and the next. The siren on top is dulled but shiny. The car is well-kept. Shoot, you're not prepared to talk your mother out of another fine.

The scene is even stranger as there are no officers to go with the vehicle. There's usually at least one keeping watch or listening to the scanner. Just as peculiar, the trailer is shut up and there's not hollering coming from inside. Typically, the door's wide open for you to stumble in upon your mother's latest turmoil.

You balance the paper bag in one arm as you climb the low steps to the door and twist back the handle. The door opens easy and you step into a low dim, curtains drawn and lights all out. There's still light in the sky but it doesn't touch the place.

Your mother's cackle jars you and the deep rumble in response puts you on edge. You let the grim dim of the autumn in behind you as you feel around for the light knob. You turn it and light up the glass shade over the dinette.

You nearly drop your armful as you find your mother on the bench, giggling as a uniformed man pours whiskey past her lips, the dark brown neck of the bottle glugging loudly. You recoil and stammer. It's not the first time you've stumbled on your mother with a man, usually she leaves a scarf on the door to prevent that. You're only thankful they are fully clothed.

"Sorry," you back up and spin out the door, snapping it shut behind you.

You hop down to the gravel and sit on the bottom step. You put the groceries beside you and roll your shoulders, trying to escape that grimy feeling. Really, a cop? Well, that might keep her out of trouble. Or at least, make the law look in the other direction.

You try not to think about it but your eyes are drawn over to the round headlight of the cruiser. You frown. It can't be the same officer as earlier. You rub your cheek and think. You can't tell, he was missing that wide-brimmed hat.

You tear your attention from the nose of the car and watch some kids run by in a game of tag. You begrudge your empty stomach and heavy head. All day you only wanted to be home so you could get the groceries away and turn in. Nothing ever goes to plan with your ma.

You place your chin in your hand and blow a raspberry. What kind of lawman feeds liquor to a woman like that? It's plain to see that your ma has a problem. It's slimy, really. Barely preferable to him booking her. There's something nasty about him holding that bottle, laughing at her desperation to sate her bottomless thirst.

Their voices come clearer through the thin wall of the trailer. You get up and take the groceries, hiding them around the back. Hopefully no one stumbles on them. You go back around and set off down the gravel. He should be gone by the time you get back.

The kids run by you, puffing and panting in their game. You watch them, mourning the days when life was as simple as that. For you, the carefree era of your childhood didn’t last long. If it ever was.

You hear a parent holler and one of the children disperses. The others disappear around the next row as they continue on in their back and forth. You cross your arms as the evening chill nips at your flannel. You loop around, making a full lap of the outer path of the park.

You come back in sight of your mother’s trailer. The door is open as the officer sits on your former perch, sucking on a cigarette. You think of turning back. You’re tired and the sky is getting dim. You just want to eat and go to bed.

As you approach, he looks up and blows out a cloud of smoke. You cross your arms as he bows and gives a half-salute with two fingers. He looks up at you as he flicks ash from the cigarette.

“Must be junior,” he stands with a grunt, “sorry to chase ya out like that.”

You shrug, “officer.”

He smirks, “I’m off-duty.”

You nod and look away. There’s something about him, something slimy. Maybe it’s the way his stomach hangs over his pants or how he lets the bolo tie hang loose down his chest, his top buttons still undone.

“Gotta grab the, er, groceries,” you excuse yourself.

You sweep around the trailer and retrieve your haul, thankfully undiscovered. As you come back to the front, the officer remains, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot. You go to the steps and he stops you, stretching his arm in front of you.

“What’s yer name, girl?”

You shake your head, “does it matter?”

“Ma’s a nice lady, ain’t she? I’m only curious…” he says, “if I’m gonna be comin’ around.”

You hug the paper bag and bite down. You don’t want to tell him. If he’s anything like the other men, he won’t be back.

Your mother calls your name as he she clatters against the door from the inside. She manages to tear it open as you cringe. She’s in her underwear and a tank top barely clinging to her shoulders. You unthinkingly bull past the cop and rush up the stairs.

“Ma, it’s too cold out,” you usher her inside, “Christ.”

“Hey, you watch your mouth,” she sneers.

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” you say as you put the bag down. You turn to close the door but it swings inward from the other side. It’s him, officer slime.

“So, Molly,” he leers at your mother, “this your girl, then?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” your mother grumbles and falls against the couch, nearly missing as the man catches her and sets her right.

You exhale through your nose. She wouldn’t be like that if he didn’t bring her liquor. You grab the mostly empty bottle from the table and go to the sink. You hover it over the drain as you mouth shrieks like a hurt cat.

“Don’t you be wastin’ that!” She howls.

“Ma, look at you–”

“Now, now,” the man comes close and reaches to put his hand around yours, “I paid for that.”

“Great,” you turn to him, “you can take it with you.”

“With me?”

“Have a good night, officer,” you let him have the bottle, “I gotta make dinner.”

“Don’t be rude,” your mother slurs, “he stayin’.”

“Staying?” you sneer as you eye the man warily.

“Now I raised you right, we don’t send a good man off with an empty belly,” she snickers and reaches for his hand, tugging him towards her, “we make sure he’s nice and full.”

“Ma–” you begin.

“You ain’t even introduced us, Moll,” the man kisses her knuckles before wiggling free of her grasp. He hands her the whiskey. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he grins at you, “Lee when I’m off the beat.”

You look at him, then your mother. She gulps down the whiskey sloppily. You turn back to the counter and hide your chagrin.

“Hope you like beans,” you utter in defeat.

“I ain’t picky,” he drawls as he leans on the table, watching you.

You peek over your shoulder. Your mother is barely conscious as she leans back, letting the bottle rest on the empty space beside her on the couch. The quicker she passes out, the sooner this man can leave.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #leader of the landslide #series #the devil all the time

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