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ilovemarvel97 · 2 months ago

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Craving What We Shouldn’t

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Reader

Summary: Senior year. What could happen? School troubles? Suspended? Or becoming step-sisters with the girl you are in love with?

Word Count: 3,617

Warnings: High school AU, Angst, forbidden romance, step-siblings, reader has a penis, mutual pining, secret relationship, emotionally charged.

A/N: I just wondered how step-siblings would be if they fall in love before becoming siblings. Please do not interact if you don't like the topic.

Main Masterlist

---

The last place Y/N wanted to be on the first day of senior year was standing in front of a brand new front door with a suitcase and a forced smile. Her mom had been glowing with happiness ever since she married Oleg Maximoff over the summer. A second chance at love, she called it.

For Y/N, it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Because on the other side of that door was Wanda Maximoff. The girl who stole her heart during junior year. The girl who kissed her once at a party before summer and never talked about it again. The girl who used to sneak glances at her across the library table, who blushed when their hands brushed.

Now they shared a house. A bathroom. A last name.

And none of it changed how Y/N felt.

“Come on,” her mom said with a light laugh, nudging her shoulder. “You’ll love it. Wanda’s been asking when you'd arrive.”

That made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

She stepped into the house. The air smelled like rosemary and floor polish. A few family photos had already gone up on the walls—her mom with Oleg, Wanda with Pietro, one of all of them awkwardly posed at the wedding.

Then—“Hey.”

Y/N froze. Her head turned slowly toward the stairs.

Wanda stood halfway down, her red hair pulled into a lazy ponytail, a soft sweater hanging off her shoulder. Barefoot. No makeup. Just her. And she was looking at Y/N like nothing had changed.

Like everything had changed.

“Hi,” Y/N said, her voice caught somewhere between casual and breathless.

They stared at each other. Too long for step-sisters. Too long for ex-almost-somethings. Just long enough for the air to thicken.

Wanda broke the moment with a quick smile. “Your room’s next to mine.”

“Of course it is,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

That night, lying in bed with the walls too thin and Wanda’s music playing faintly through them, Y/N stared at the ceiling.

She’d spent months trying to forget her.

Now she was going to see her every morning. Every night. Every hallway at school.

She couldn’t want her anymore.

She already did.

---

Y/N didn’t even make it through her first morning coffee before things got awkward.

She stepped into the kitchen still half-asleep, only to find Wanda already there in her cheer uniform—leaning against the counter, sipping orange juice, acting like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t once kissed Y/N in the hallway after finals. Like she hadn’t ghosted her all summer. Like they hadn’t suddenly become family.

“Want toast?” Wanda asked without looking up.

Y/N grabbed the mug waiting for her on the table. “I’ll live.”

Wanda glanced at her then. Briefly. But long enough.

There it was again. That electric pull. That heat just beneath the surface.

Y/N took a long sip of coffee to distract herself. She didn’t look at Wanda again.

---

At school, nothing had changed—and everything had.

Wanda slipped into her role like a second skin: queen bee of the cheer squad, top of her AP classes, adored by teachers and untouchable by everyone else. She walked the hall like she owned it. Beside her were Monica and Pepper, as always. Pietro waved from across the lockers, grinning at both of them.

Y/N moved differently. Not a loser, not a nerd—just a little outside the lines. She wore her usual cargo pants and hoodie, skateboard slung through the strap of her bag, earbuds in, always just out of reach.

Except now people were talking.

“Didn’t you hear?” someone whispered by the lockers. “Maximoff’s got a new stepsister.”

“She’s kind of hot, right?”

“Wait—is that the girl who punched Steve Rogers sophomore year?”

“No way. I thought she was expelled for that.”

Y/N smirked. She wasn’t. She just hated how Steve talked to Bruce that day.

But the whispers didn’t stop when she passed Wanda in the hallway.

If anything, they got worse.

“Do you think they knew each other before the wedding?”

Wanda’s eyes flickered to her. Brief. Loaded. But she didn’t say anything. She just laughed along with her friends, like nothing was wrong.

Y/N looked away.

---

Lunch was the worst part.

She’d barely sat down at her usual table—Nat, Carol, and Clint already mid-convo about the upcoming school trip—when a tray slammed down across from her.

Wanda.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, half-whispered, half-panicked.

“Eating,” Wanda said coolly. “We live together now, remember?”

Nat raised an eyebrow. Carol looked like she smelled drama. Clint was just frozen mid-chew.

Wanda took a bite of her apple and looked right at Y/N when she said it:

“Besides… family should sit together.”

Y/N choked on her drink.

Nat reached over and thumped her back with a smirk. “You alright there?”

Y/N nodded, eyes burning.

Wanda smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Y/N hated her for that.

And wanted her anyway.

---

Y/N found her in the hallway after seventh period.

Wanda had just slipped out of AP Lit, a stack of books in her arms and her signature bored-but-beautiful expression on. The hallway was nearly empty—just the occasional echo of locker doors slamming and chatter from other classrooms.

Y/N caught up fast. Too fast.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing Wanda’s arm gently. “We need to talk.”

Wanda didn’t flinch. “We’re talking.”

“Not here,” Y/N hissed. “Come on.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but followed, heels clicking as Y/N led her around the corner to the empty back stairwell. The one nobody used anymore except for cutting class or making out. Fitting.

Y/N dropped her bag and crossed her arms. “What the hell was that at lunch?”

Wanda leaned against the railing like she wasn’t cornered. Like this was a game. “Lunch?”

Y/N stepped closer. “Don’t play dumb. Sitting with me. Calling me family in front of *everyone*.”

Wanda shrugged. “That’s what we are now, aren’t we? You and me. One big happy—”

“Don’t,” Y/N cut in, voice low and sharp. “Don’t pretend this is normal.”

Wanda looked at her then. The sarcasm slipped for a second. Just a second.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” she asked, quieter now. “That I regret it? That I wish we’d never…?”

Y/N swallowed. “I want you to be honest. For once.”

Wanda stepped forward, suddenly too close. Her voice dropped.

“Fine. You want honesty?” Her eyes searched Y/N’s. “I think about that kiss every night.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“I think about what would’ve happened if my dad hadn’t proposed to your mom. If we weren’t stuck under the same roof, pretending nothing ever happened.”

Wanda’s fingers brushed her wrist. “But we are. And now I have to sit at breakfast with you across from me, wearing that stupid hoodie, acting like you don’t feel it too.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “I do feel it.”

Silence. Their eyes locked.

“Then why are you mad at me?” Wanda asked, softer now.

Y/N looked away. “Because you ghosted me after that kiss. And now you sit with me at lunch like nothing’s wrong. Like *you* get to decide when it matters.”

Wanda blinked. Guilt flickered.

“I was scared,” she admitted.

Y/N turned back to her. “So am I.”

A long pause.

“I shouldn’t want you,” Y/N whispered.

“I know,” Wanda said, barely audible. “But I do.”

And for a moment, the world tilted.

But neither moved. Neither kissed.

Because wanting each other was easy.

Living with it—that was the hard part.

---

Dinner was quiet.

Too quiet.

Oleg was rambling about his new teaching position, and Y/N’s mom nodded politely at every word, stealing glances toward the teens at opposite ends of the table.

Wanda picked at her mashed potatoes like they offended her. Y/N kept her eyes on her plate and said nothing at all.

They hadn’t spoken since the stairwell.

Not at school. Not on the walk home. Not even when Wanda brushed past her at the front door, close enough for her perfume to linger.

“I’m glad you girls are getting along,” Oleg said with a smile, breaking the silence. “High school’s tough enough without family drama, right?”

Wanda’s fork froze mid-air.

Y/N gave a small, hollow laugh and shoved another bite in her mouth.

---

Later, Y/N stood in the upstairs hallway, toothbrush dangling from her mouth, staring at Wanda’s bedroom door.

It was cracked open.

She should’ve kept walking. Should’ve gone into her room, shut the door, put headphones in, and pretended everything was normal.

Instead, she knocked.

Softly.

“Yeah?” came Wanda’s voice from inside.

Y/N stepped in.

Wanda was curled up on her bed in an oversized sweater, hair wet from a recent shower, legs tucked under a blanket. She wasn’t reading. She wasn’t watching anything. Just… sitting there. Waiting.

Y/N stayed near the door.

“You okay?” she asked.

Wanda looked at her with those deep, unreadable eyes. “You’re asking me that now?”

Y/N sighed. “I didn’t mean to come at you so hard earlier.”

“No, you were right,” Wanda said, her voice quieter now. “I shut you out. I didn’t know what to do with what happened between us.”

“And now?” Y/N asked.

Wanda hesitated. “Now I want to pretend we’re just two girls in the same school again. Before the wedding. Before all this.”

Y/N gave a small, tired smile. “We can’t go back.”

“I know.”

A silence stretched between them. The hallway light behind Y/N cast her shadow across Wanda’s carpet.

“I think about it too,” Y/N said finally. “That kiss.”

Wanda looked at her like she was holding her breath.

“I never stopped wanting you,” Y/N confessed. “Even when it got complicated. Even when it got impossible.”

They stared at each other. That familiar pull crackled in the air between them.

But neither moved.

Because outside that room was a hallway. And down the hallway were their parents. And in that house, they weren’t just Y/N and Wanda anymore.

They were stepsisters.

“Goodnight,” Y/N whispered.

Wanda’s voice was barely a whisper. “Goodnight.”

And as the door clicked shut, both of them lay awake, two doors apart, craving something they couldn’t have.

Not anymore.

---

The days that followed were unbearable.

They barely spoke. Barely made eye contact. But the tension followed them like a shadow—thick in the air during breakfast, suffocating during car rides, lingering in the spaces where their shoulders nearly touched but never quite did.

At school, they played their roles. Wanda smiled in the hallways and laughed with her friends. Y/N kept her head down, skated to class, joked with Nat and Carol like she wasn’t constantly glancing toward red hair in the crowd.

But the truth followed them home every day.

In the quiet. In the in-between.

And eventually, it had to break.

---

It was late.

The house was dark. Everyone else asleep. Wanda padded into the kitchen in an old t-shirt, hoping for water. She didn’t expect to find Y/N already there, back turned, staring out the window with a glass in her hand.

Wanda froze.

Y/N didn’t turn around. Just said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Wanda said, voice barely a breath. “You?”

Y/N shook her head. Silence stretched again. Familiar. Heavy.

Then—

“This is killing me,” Wanda whispered. “Pretending like we’re not… something.”

Y/N turned then. Slowly. Her eyes tired. Sad. And so full of everything Wanda felt too.

“It’s killing me too,” she said. “But what are we supposed to do, Wanda? Risk tearing our parents apart because we can’t stay away from each other?”

Wanda looked down.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” she said.

“Neither do I.”

“I want to choose you,” Wanda said quietly. “But if I do, it won’t just be us who gets hurt.”

Y/N stepped closer. “So what? We ignore it? We bury this and pretend we don’t want each other?”

“We already are,” Wanda said with a bitter smile. “And it’s tearing me apart.”

Y/N reached out without thinking. Her fingers brushed Wanda’s, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto.

And for a moment, Wanda let her.

They stood there, trembling, their hands barely touching, eyes locked in silent agony.

“I wish we met in another life,” Wanda whispered. “Where you weren’t my stepsister. Where we didn’t have to pretend.”

“I know,” Y/N said, voice cracking. “But this is the life we got.”

Wanda nodded, tears clinging to her lashes.

Then, slowly, she pulled her hand away.

“We have to stop,” she said, though it broke her to say it. “We have to try.”

Y/N blinked fast, nodding. “Yeah. We do.”

But neither moved. Not yet.

Because even when they tried to be strong, tried to do the right thing, the ache was still there. Unrelenting.

---

One Week Later

By the end of the first week, everything looked perfect from the outside.

Y/N and Wanda passed each other in the halls with polite nods. They shared the bathroom like normal siblings. They even managed to help set the table together without saying a word too sharp or too soft.

To their parents, it looked like the girls were settling in just fine.

But every moment felt like walking a tightrope.

Every brush of fingers when reaching for the same spoon. Every second of accidental eye contact. Every laugh they weren’t supposed to share, every memory they weren’t supposed to have.

It was unbearable.

Y/N stopped eating breakfast in the kitchen.

Wanda started walking to school with Monica instead of waiting for Y/N on the porch.

They both told themselves it was better this way.

They were lying.

---

One Night

It was late.

Everyone was asleep. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that rang in your ears.

Y/N was wide awake, staring at her ceiling, heart pounding like it always did lately—tight and restless. She couldn’t stop thinking about Wanda’s bare legs under oversized sweaters, the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating, or how she laughed—*really* laughed—when she let herself forget the rules.

And then there was the memory she couldn’t outrun: that kiss. Hot. Breathless. Full of promise.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

The hallway creaked.

Her bedroom door cracked open.

Y/N bolted upright.

Wanda stood there in the dark, wrapped in a blanket, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered.

Y/N’s voice was hoarse. “Then don’t be here.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Wanda stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.

She didn’t climb onto the bed. She didn’t touch her. She just sat on the floor against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees, like she was trying to ground herself.

“I thought I could do this,” Wanda whispered. “Pretend. Keep you at a distance. But I see you every day, and it’s like I’m starving.”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “You think I don’t feel that too?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Wanda said. “They’re so happy. Our parents. I don’t want to ruin that. I can’t.”

Y/N pushed her fingers through her hair. “So what are we supposed to do? Torture ourselves?”

Wanda looked up at her. “We have to try.”

And for a while, they just sat there. Quiet. Wanting.

Eventually, Wanda stood and left.

Y/N didn’t sleep at all.

---

The Next Day

At school, they avoided each other like it was a sport. But their friends noticed.

Pepper leaned into Wanda’s side at lunch. “You okay? You’ve been off all week.”

“I’m fine,” Wanda said too quickly, stabbing at her salad.

Across the room, Carol gave Y/N a sideways look. “You know if you keep bottling stuff up, you’re gonna explode, right?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just tossed a grape into her mouth and stared at nothing.

Because Wanda was sitting with Monica. Laughing. But not really.

And Y/N hated that she could tell.

---

Two Weeks Later

It happened on a Sunday.

The house was quiet. Oleg and Y/N’s mom were out at some local art exhibit. Pietro was at a friend’s. The storm outside had knocked out the power.

Wanda lit candles in the living room, wrapped herself in a blanket, and put on an old record player Oleg had dug out of the attic.

Y/N wandered in after hearing the music, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“I didn’t think you liked Fleetwood Mac,” she said.

Wanda shrugged. “Didn’t think you paid attention.”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to you,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Wanda froze.

The thunder cracked in the distance. The song shifted to Landslide.

Neither of them moved.

“I miss you,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N stepped forward, every breath shaky. “I never stopped missing you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes wet. “We can’t.”

“I know.”

Their fingers touched. Just barely.

Wanda shook her head, trying to breathe. “You make it so hard to be good.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “Then maybe we stop pretending to be.”

For one breathless second, it was all too close.

Wanda leaned in—so close their noses brushed.

But she stopped.

She stepped back.

“We can’t,” she said, voice trembling.

Y/N nodded, her heart breaking again. “I know.”

But neither walked away.

And that was the scariest part.

---

They were picture-perfect again.

Wanda helped her mom cook. Y/N helped Oleg in the garage. They all sat down for dinner like a Hallmark ad.

At school, Y/N and Wanda didn’t walk together, didn’t eat together, didn’t exist in each other’s orbits if they could help it.

But Y/N was always watching.

That’s how she saw it happen.

Some tall junior with too much gel in his hair cornered Wanda by the vending machine. He was smiling like he was confident and clueless. Wanda laughed politely, brushing her hair behind her ear. Classic deflection.

Y/N clenched her fists.

It meant nothing. She knew that. Wanda wasn’t into him. Wanda never even looked at anyone else.

But that didn’t matter when the jealousy hit like poison in her veins.

When the guy leaned in a little too close, Y/N saw red.

---

That Night

Wanda barely had time to set her bag down before she realized something was off.

Y/N didn’t greet her.

Didn’t glance up from the couch.

Didn’t even flinch when their mom said, “Girls, want to pick a movie for tonight?”

“I’m tired,” Y/N said. “Not in the mood.”

That wasn’t like her.

Wanda frowned but said nothing.

Later, she knocked on Y/N’s bedroom door.

No answer.

She opened it anyway.

“You’re ignoring me,” she said flatly.

Y/N sat at her desk, scribbling something into her sketchpad like it was life or death.

“Go away, Wanda.”

Wanda stepped inside anyway. “What the hell did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Y/N snapped, still not looking at her.

Wanda’s jaw tightened. “Then why are you acting like I don’t exist? You’re not even pretending anymore.”

“I can’t pretend anymore!”

That made Wanda freeze.

Y/N stood up abruptly. Her eyes were wild—pained.

“I’m in love with you, Wanda,” she said, voice cracking. “I’ve been trying not to be. I’ve been trying to be good, for our parents, for you. But I can’t watch you let some random guy flirt with you. I can’t watch you and pretend it doesn’t kill me.”

Wanda blinked. “Y/N—”

“You laughed at something he said.”

“It was small talk! I didn’t even like him—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, softer now. “Because I’m the only one who can’t have you.”

Wanda’s eyes were filling with tears. “You think this is easy for me? You think I’m not dying inside every time I have to act like you’re just my step-sister?”

Silence stretched between them like a live wire.

“I want you too,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N looked at her like she didn’t believe it.

“I never stopped,” Wanda said. “I’m just… scared. We’re not supposed to feel this.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “But we do.”

And that was the truth.

The silence between them was heavy. Breathing was hard.

Wanda’s words hung in the air like something sacred and dangerous all at once.

“I want you too.”

Y/N stepped closer before she could stop herself, eyes searching Wanda’s face for any hesitation. There was fear there, yes—but it was tangled with longing. Raw and open.

Wanda didn’t move.

Didn’t pull back.

Didn’t blink.

Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Then kiss me.”

And just like that, Wanda did.

She surged forward, hands fisting into Y/N’s shirt, pulling her down, up, into her—like she didn’t know where she began and where Y/N ended. Y/N’s arms went around her instantly, holding her like she’d been waiting for this exact moment her whole life.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss.

It was desperate. Messy. Hungry.

A crash of emotion too long suppressed.

Wanda whimpered against her mouth, and that broke something inside Y/N. She backed Wanda into the wall, their bodies pressed tight, lips moving fast, like they were making up for all the times they pretended they didn’t want this.

Didn’t need this.

But they did.

God, they did.

Wanda gasped when Y/N’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye like she was fragile and precious. “I don’t care if it’s wrong,” Y/N said between kisses. “I just want you.”

Wanda nodded, breathless. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

They kissed again, slower this time. Softer. Like a promise.

They stayed like that until they heard footsteps outside in the hallway.

Wanda stiffened.

Y/N pulled back, resting her forehead against hers.

Back to reality.

Back to hiding.

But now, they couldn’t go back to what they were before.

Something had shifted.

And it was too big to ignore.

---

Does anyone want to see part 2 😁

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crushpunky · 6 months ago

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rafe and kook!reader go to a wedding

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

this one's kinda long, but i was having too much fun and got carried away. oh well. enjoy <3

When Rafe found out one of his dad’s business partners was getting married, he knew he had to make a good impression. So, naturally, he called up his usual accomplice to things like these: y/n.

“You owe me big time, Cameron.” Y/n said with a sigh as she hung up the phone. While she wasn’t the biggest fan of these formal, uppity events, she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t at least a little bit excited to get a new dress (on Rafe’s dime of course) and spend an evening getting drunk off champagne with Rafe’s arm around her.

The two of them had gone shopping on the mainland, trying to find the perfect suit and dress combo to fit the wedding's spring-floral theme.

“I’m not wearing a fucking pink suit.” Rafe grumbled from behind the curtain of the changing room, his head peeking out as y/n held up a baby pink suit and coordinating hat.

“Just try it on, please. It’ll be funny.” Y/n smiled brightly, something that quickly made Rafe’s resolve crumble away with a roll of his eyes. He took it on, muttering to himself as he pulled on the light colored suit jacket. He stepped out, moving around dramatically in the pink fabric, a giggle immediately erupting from y/n’s mouth.

“Put on the hat!” Y/n laughed, Rafe shaking his head as he grabbed the hat. He plopped it on his head, cringing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror before turning back to y/n. She quickly snapped a photo, her laughter continuing to echo throughout the shop.

“Don’t you even think about fucking showing that to anybody.” Rafe pointed before chucking off his hat.

“It’s for my own personal pleasure, boy.” Y/n smiled, looking down at her photo and taking in Rafe’s sour look coupled with his extravagant, pink ensemble.

“The shit I do for you…” Rafe grumbled to himself before returning to the changing room.

After hours of shopping, the two of them finally found the perfect outfits. Rafe found a dusty blue linen suit that y/n insisted he had to get purely because of the way it made his eyes pop. Similarly, y/n found a breezy, blue dress that had Rafe nearly needing to take a step outside because of how good she looked (not that he’d admit that, of course).

Y/n was putting the last touches of makeup on when the doorbell rang. With a huff, y/n grabbed her clutch before hurrying down the stairs, hees in hand. Like many Kook weddings, the wedding was at the Country Club, which luckily meant they were oh-so familiar with the venue, but unfortunately also meant they were likely to know everybody there.

Tugging her heels on, y/n bid her parents farewell before she opened the front door. Paying too much attention to the straps of her shoes, y/n ran straight into a broad chest and fistful of flowers.

“Woah!” Rafe said, his hand falling to y/n’s waist, keeping her from falling further off the porch. Y/n looked up, finding herself wishing she’d done a couple of shots before she left when she saw just how good he looked. His face was freshly shaven (though she didn’t particularly mind his stubble), his hair was styled a bit cleaner than its usual boyish tousle, and of course he had that same, damn, shit-eating grin that always made her cheeks flush.

“Sorry,” y/n muttered, swallowing harshly as she still struggled with the buckle of her shoe.

“Here.” Rafe said, handing her the bouquet of flowers she had just run into before kneeling down. His warm hands brushed the soft skin of her ankle as he made quick work of the buckle of her shoe. Y/n barely had a second to process what was happening before he stood back up, looking down at her with a grin.

“Thanks.” Y/n said, blinking quickly before looking over to where Rafe usually parked. However, where his Jeep usually sat was the Camerons’ Mercedes, Ward and Rose inside, their usual sour expressions visible even through the darkly tinted windows.

“Why is your dad driving?” Y/n asked, turning back to Rafe as ran a hand down his face.

“He insisted we drive together.” Rafe sighed. “Said he didn’t want us sneaking out early.”

“Having no car has never stopped us before.” Y/n grumbled as they made their way to the car, Rafe opening the door as y/n climbed inside.

“Oh, y/n, that dress is gorgeous.” Rose gushed, turning around as she looked over y/n’s dress.

“Thanks, Rafe helped me pick it out, actually.” Y/n grinned, looking over at Rafe as the Ward backed the car out of the driveway. He flashed her a quick smile before focusing his gaze forward.

“That explains the low neckline.” Ward muttered, his voice quiet, but not quiet enough for y/n or Rafe to not hear. Rafe’s head whipped over to his father, his hands immediately clenching before y/n placed a hand on his bicep.

“Good to know you like it, Mr. Cameron.” Y/n said, flashing Ward her best dramatically fake grin in the rearview mirror. Rafe sat next to her, his foot tapping quickly on the floor as his jaw remained tense, an anxiety coursing through him that often presented himself when it came to dealing with his father.

“Rafe, I’m expecting the two of you to be on your best behavior tonight.” Ward said sharply. “These are my— your— business partners, so you will not embarrass our family tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Rafe grumbled, looking out the window as they pulled up to the Country Club. The lawn was littered with finely dressed guests and flowers and lights adorned the patio, the setting sun bathing the party in golden light. The Camerons pulled up to the curb, Ward putting the car in park as the valet began to approach them.

“Oh and just as a little insurance that my partners see how much my son has grown up,” Ward turned to look at the two of them, “I told them he would be bringing his very serious, long term girlfriend with him this evening.”

“What?!” Rafe scoffed, his voice sharp as he looked between his father and y/n, whose face was equally shocked. She felt her cheeks warm up, her mind immediately racing with a thousand questions and worries… but also a subtle excitement at the new twist for the night.

“They don’t think you’re reliable or committed, so I made sure they saw you were.” Ward said simply, him and Rose exiting the car. The two of them sat in the car in a silence, unsure of what to say or do, until the valet awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Shit, um, sorry.” Rafe scrambled, popping his door open before turning back to y/n. He offered his hand out to her as she climbed out, his touch light. The gesture wasn’t unusual, he often would open the door for her or help her out of a car, but now things felt a bit different.

“Y/n I swear I didn’t know he was—” Rafe began, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Y/n sighed, smoothing the front of her dress as she looked out at the sea of guests… the sea of guests they were going to have to convince they were dating. The thought sent a shiver down her spine; imagining Rafe’s hands firmly wrapped around her all night, his eyes on her every move, his lips on hers… it was everything she hated to admit she would think about sometimes when she was alone. When she pictured her future, the person beside her always developed ocean blue eyes, a quaff of blondish-brown hair, tanned skin, a cheeky smirk… she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help thinking about being with him in that way, even if she knew it was wrong.

“It’s just one night, ok? It… it doesn’t mean anything.” Y/n whispered as she started towards the wedding, her pounding heart betraying the lies she was telling him.

The ceremony was the same boring, Kook event the island had seen countless times: bride walks down the aisle in a dress that cost more than most people's homes, groom reads off vows very obviously not written by him, and the two of them ride off into the sunset happily ever after, prenups signed and millions in their pockets.

The reception, however, was where the Kooks really shined. Drunken guests stumbled around the expansive dancefloor, an overpaid dj playing music so loud y/n was sure the Pogues could probably hear it all the way on the Cut. Trays of small bites of food floated around the party, the food nowhere near enough to balance out the effects of the open bar. Y/n found herself standing at one of the tables, watching the partygoers as Rafe ventured over to the bar to get the two of them drinks that would hopefully make them blackout for the inevitable car ride home with Ward and Rose.

“What’s a young lady like you doing standing by herself?” A voice tore y/n’s eyes away from the sea of people, an old man with a chilling smile approaching her, setting his whiskey on the table.

“Just waiting for someone.” Y/n said simply, flashing him a quick grin before turning her attention back to the party. She swallowed harshly as she felt the guy's eyes rake over her in a way that made her stomach churn.

“A special someone or just someone?” The man chuckled, his wrinkled hand creeping across the table cloth and inching towards where y/n’s arm rested.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe’s voice cut in just before the man’s fingers could reach her. Y/n felt herself exhaling as Rafe handed her her drink before snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. His grip on her was firm, much more intense than the way he would usually rest his hands on the small of her back when they were maneuvering through a party or he was following her onto the Druthers. She took a sip of it, eyeing Rafe as he stared down the man in front of them.

“Cameron, it’s good to see you.” The old man said, offering his hand out for a handshake. Rafe raised his drink to his lips before lowering it with a small chuckle.

“Sorry,” Rafe said with a short shrug. “Hands are full.”

“Rafe…” y/n warned, looking up at Rafe sharply.

“No problem.” The old man laughed, taking a sip of his own drink. “If I had a pretty thing like her I wouldn’t want to take my hands off ‘em either.”

Y/n let out a faux, airy laugh. Between the way Rafe’s grip tightened on her side and the clench of his jaw, y/n could practically feel the tension emanating off of him. Y/n placed her hand on top of where Rafe’s rested on her waist, the cool familiarity of her touch helping reduce Rafe’s urge to attack the old creep.

“Well, it was good to see you, young man.” The old man grinned before pointing over to where the bride and groom stood. “Before you know, that’ll be you two. Have a good night.”

Y/n nearly choked on the sip of her drink she was taking, Rafe letting out a scoff as the old man finally shuffled away. Despite the man leaving, Rafe’s fingers still sat firmly on her waist, y/n’s fingers toying with the rings that adorned them.

“Those are the type of creeps I’m supposed to kiss up to?” Rafe scoffed, biting his lip as he shook his head in disbelief. Y/n sighed, before resting her head on Rafe’s chest. She hadn’t even realized she’d done it until Rafe’s other arm moved to wrap around her, holding her against his chest in a warm embrace. The two of them stood, y/n’s ear pressed to Rafe’s chest and Rafe praying she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

“I’m proud of you, Rafe.” Y/n said, pulling away just enough to look up at him. He looked down at her, his lips slightly parted. Standing this close to him, she could see the freckles along his nose and the blush that adorned his cheeks when he drank present.

“For what?” Rafe whispered, his breath fanning across her face. He found himself unable to look away from the curve of her cheekbones or the hue of her eyes he considered his favorite color.

“You’ve come so far with… everything.” Y/n said, a smile dancing across her lips. “The Rafe I knew a few years ago would’ve jumped that old man.”

Rafe let out a chuckle that shook against the skin of y/n’s arm, “the idea certainly crossed my mind.”

“Oh it crossed mine too, don’t worry.” Y/n laughed, Rafe biting his lip as he looked down at her. The two of them looked at eachother, the rest of the wedding slowly fading away until it was just them. Rafe could feel his mouth begin to dry, the blood rushing to his head. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, or the words she spoke to sweetly, or maybe the way she looked under the twinkle of the lights, but he felt the urge to lower his head and press his lips to hers… but he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

So, closing his eyes lightly, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tightly against his chest. If he couldn’t be with her in the way he wanted, he could allow himself this. He could allow himself to hold her, even if every time he did he wished he could do more. He would allow himself to kiss her cheek, even if he wished he could kiss her lips. He would allow himself to tell her he loved her, even if he wished he could tell her how he thought of her every waking moment, her very presence weaving its way into every dream he’d ever had.

He would allow himself this because it didn’t cross the line. That carefully constructed line he’d drawn so firmly, pledging to never cross for risk of losing her forever… because while he could live without being with her the way he wanted, he couldn’t live without her at all.

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

Text

Forever and Always

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, wedding day emotions, a little bit of nerves, tender moments, smut, soft Simon

Author’s Note: I’m in a wedding mood so here we are!

Summary: Your wedding day with Simon—from the first nervous moments of the morning to the intimate, quiet night just the two of you. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word solidifies what you already knew. This was forever.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Morning – The Bride

You woke up before the sun, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with excitement and nerves. Today was the day.

Rolling over, you grabbed your phone. A message from Simon was waiting.

Simon💍👻: Morning, love. Hope you slept better than me. Can’t wait to see you.

A smile tugged at your lips as you test me a quick:

Can’t wait to see you too.

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of makeup brushes, hairspray, and laughter. Your bridesmaids chatted around you, but your mind kept drifting to Simon. How was he feeling? Was he just as nervous?

Soap popped his head into the room, smirking. “Damn. Riley’s gonna drop dead when he sees you.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” he said, stepping inside. “Speaking of which, are you ready for the first look?”

Your stomach flipped. The first look. That intimate moment before the ceremony, just the two of you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m ready.”

---

Morning – The Groom

Simon was pacing.

“Would you sit the hell down?” Gaz groaned from the couch, watching him with amusement. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.”

“Can’t help it,” Simon muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Feels like my chest’s gonna explode.”

Gaz smirked. “Big, scary Ghost, nervous about his wedding day?”

Simon shot him a look. “Say that again, and I’ll—”

A knock at the door interrupted him. The photographer poked his head in. “First look’s set up.”

Simon exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. This was it.

Gaz clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Go get her, mate.”

---

The First Look

The secluded garden was quiet, tucked away from the noise of the wedding party. Simon stood with his back turned, hands curled into fists at his sides. His heart pounded harder than it ever had in a firefight.

The soft sound of footsteps on the grass made him freeze. He could feel you behind him.

“Simon?” your voice was gentle, uncertain.

He turned.

And the world stopped.

You were breathtaking. The dress, the way the sunlight kissed your skin, the way your eyes shimmered with emotion. He felt the air punch out of his lungs.

You bit your lip. “Say something.”

Simon took a slow step forward, then another, his throat tight. He reached for your hands, holding them between his own, calloused and warm. His jaw clenched, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough, thick with emotion.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your lips trembled. “You like it?”

“Love it,” he murmured. “Love you.”

A breath of relief left you, and you threw your arms around his neck. He caught you easily, holding you close, his nose buried in your hair. “I missed you,” you whispered.

“Missed you too,” he admitted, voice quiet. He pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours. “You sure about this?”

You cupped his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His fingers traced the back of your hand, where your wedding band would soon sit. He exhaled slowly, nodding.

“Alright then,” he murmured. “Let’s get married.”

---

The Ceremony & Reception

Everything after that felt like a blur. The ceremony, the vows—the moment he slipped the ring onto your finger and heard you say *I do.*

When it was time for the first dance, Simon held you close, swaying gently. “You tired yet?” you teased.

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never when it comes to you.”

Later, as the night ended and you stood in your hotel room, hair undone and feet aching, he watched you with a softness he rarely showed.

“You’re staring,” you teased.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re mine now.”

You smiled, stepping into his arms. “Always.”

---

Night – Just the Two of You

By the time you reached your hotel room, exhaustion had begun to set in.

Simon kicked off his shoes, watching as you undid the pins in your hair, letting the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You looked at him through the mirror, eyes soft.

“Can’t believe we’re finally married,” you murmured.

He stepped behind you, hands finding your waist. “Believe it,” he said, voice low.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. “So, how does it feel? Being my husband?”

A rare smile tugged at his lips. “Feels like the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your breath hitched slightly, eyes searching his. You reached up, fingers tracing along his jaw. “I love you, Simon.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something raw, something deep. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you too,” he murmured. “More than you’ll ever know.”

You kissed him, slow and lingering, as if savoring the moment.

And when he picked you up and carried you to bed, pressing soft kisses along your neck, your jaw—when he whispered your name like a prayer against your skin—you knew.

This was forever.

Always.

Simon's eyes followed the path of your fingers, a shiver running down his spine at your gentle touch. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss to your palm. His other hand slid up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blades as he held you close. "And how about you, love? How does it feel to be Mrs. Riley?" His voice was a low rumble, eyes darkening as they roamed your face.

You bit your lip, a small smile playing on the corners of your mouth. "It feels...right." You admitted softly, leaning into him further. "Like this...like us...it just feels right."

Simon's thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing the soft curve. "Aye, it does," he murmured in agreement, head dipping down to rest his forehead against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It made your heart race, made your skin flush with anticipation.

His hands began to wander, gliding over the smooth fabric of your dress, mapping out the curves of your body. You shivered under his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his fingers found the zipper of your gown. He paused, looking at you questioningly, silently seeking permission.

You nodded, a breathless yes falling from your mouth. His lips curved into a smirk before he slowly began to tug down the zipper, his knuckles grazing against your skin. The dress slipped off your shoulders, pooling around your feet. He took in the sight of you, clad in only your underwear, eyes burning with a hunger that made your toes curl.

"Beautiful," he breathed, calloused hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing over the lace of your bra. You arched into his touch, a moan catching in your throat. His lips found your neck, pressing hot kisses along the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point.

You reached up, fingers tangling in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. A low growl rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating through you, making your core clench with need. One hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He found you already wet, arousal coating his fingers as he stroked your slit.

"Fuck," he breathed against your skin, fingers circling your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhed against him, hips rolling into his touch, chasing the pleasure he was giving you. He slipped a finger inside, then two, pumping them in and out of your tight heat. His palm pressed against your clit, rubbing firm circles, stoking the fire building low in your belly.

"Simon," you gasped, head falling back against his shoulder, breasts heaving with each ragged breath. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, tongue delving deep to taste you. He added a third finger, thrusting harder, faster, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the room. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers.

He broke the kiss, hand moving from your sex to hook around your thigh, lifting your leg up to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to drive deeper, his fingers kissing your cervix with each thrust. The other hand pushed your bra up and out of the way, calloused palm cupping and kneading the soft mound of your breast. He pinched your nipple hard, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"Come for me, love," he commanded, voice rough and gravely, eyes dark and intense as they bore into your own. "Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

His words, his touch, the intensity in his gaze, it was too much. The coil snapped, your orgasm crashing over you, back arching, a silent scream tearing from your throat as ecstasy consumed you. He groaned, fingers pumping faster, drawing out your pleasure, working you through the aftershocks until you collapsed against him, boneless and spent.

Simon took a step back, hands moving to the collar of his shirt. He undid the buttons one by one, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the smattering of hair, the scars that mapped out his history. You watched him through hooded eyes, heart racing as more and more of his skin was bared to you.

He shrugged off the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him, all lean muscle and strength, never failed to take your breath away. He reached for his belt next, unbuckling it with deft fingers before shimmying out of his pants. In a matter of moments, he was left in nothing but his boxers, the bulge of his arousal tenting the fabric obscenely.

Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips as your gaze drifted over his body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He was a work of art, all hard lines and soft curves, a beautiful canvas of battle scars and old tattoos. You itched to run your fingers over every mark, to trace the path of each one and learn its story.

Simon watched you watching him, a smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer, looming over you. He reached out, calloused fingers skimming down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your skin tingled, nerve endings sparking to life under his touch. You shivered, a breathless little laugh escaping you as he tugged you up and against him.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, could feel the hard length of him pressed against your stomach. Your core clenched, arousal already beginning to pool between your thighs. He slid a hand up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blades as he held you close, the other hand cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head back.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, voice low and rough, dark eyes boring into your own. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing the soft curve. "Tell me what you need."

You swallowed hard, a flicker of nervousness sparking through you at the intensity in his gaze. But there was no fear, only anticipation and desire. You reached up, fingers curling around his wrist, holding him close.

"I want you," you whispered, voice breathy and soft. "I need you, Simon."

Something flashed in his eyes, a hunger, a desperation that made your heart race. "Aye," he growled, voice dropping an octave. "You're mine now. And I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it."

Then his mouth was on yours, kissing you with a ferocity that stole your breath away. He backed you towards the bed, the back of your knees hitting the mattress, and you tumbled down onto the sheets, pulling him with you. He settled between your thighs, the hard length of him nestling against your core, separated only by the thin barrier of his boxers and your panties.

You could feel every inch of him, could feel the weight of him pressing you down into the mattress. It made you feel small, made you feel fragile, made you feel cherished and protected and desired all at the same time. You wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, holding him close.

His hand slid down your side, fingers skimming over the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. He cupped your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and tugging them down your legs. You lifted your hips, helping him remove the last barrier between your bodies.

He tossed the scrap of lace aside, his gaze dropping to your naked sex. His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with desire as he took in the sight of you, laid out bare and wanting beneath him. "Fuck," he breathed, voice rough and low. "You're fucking perfect."

You blushed, a sweet ache building in your chest at the reverence in his voice. He thought you were perfect. You couldn't imagine how he could think that when he was the one who was perfect, the one who was everything you could ever want or need.

His hand slid up your inner thigh, fingers brushing against your slit, teasing through the slick folds. You gasped, back arching off the bed, hips rolling into his touch. He circled your clit, stroking the sensitive bud, before slipping a finger inside your tight heat.

"Always so fucking tight for me," he murmured, pumping his finger in and out of you, crooking it just right to hit that spot deep inside that made stars explode behind your eyelids. "Always so fucking perfect."

You could only moan in response, head thrown back, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders as he worked a second finger inside you, then a third. He thrust faster, harder, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the room, the wet squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy echoing off the walls.

His thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, stoking the fire building low in your belly, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each pass. You could feel it, the pleasure cresting, your orgasm building, your walls beginning to flutter and clench around his invading fingers.

"That's it, love," he encouraged, voice a low rumble, hot breath fanning over the side of your neck. "Come for me. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

He looked down at you, a fierce pride shining in his eyes, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. "That's my girl," he murmured, leaning down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss. "My beautiful, perfect girl."

You kissed him back just as fiercely, tangling your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He hissed, breaking the kiss to nip at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with a soft suck. You could taste the metal of his piercing on your tongue, cold and hard and delicious.

His hand slid between your bodies, calloused fingers curling around his hard length, giving it a firm stroke. You could feel him, hot and heavy and thick, the tip already leaking with arousal. He notched himself at your entrance, the broad head parting your slick folds, stretching you around him.

"Are you ready for me, love?" he asked, voice a low rumble, dark eyes searching yours. "Ready to take all of me?"

You nodded, a flicker of nervousness sparking through you at the size of him, at the thought of taking him inside you. But there was no fear, only anticipation and desire. You wanted this, wanted him, more than anything.

"I'm ready," you whispered, voice breathy and soft. "Please, Simon...please fuck me."

Something flashed in his eyes, a hunger, a desperation that made your heart race. "As you wish," he growled, voice dropping an octave.

Then he pushed forward, the thick head of his cock pushing past your entrance, stretching you wide around him. You gasped, back arching off the bed, fingers digging into his shoulders as he slowly, inexorably, pushed deeper and deeper inside you.

He paused when he was fully seated, hips flush against yours, the base of his cock kissing your cervix. You could feel every thick inch of him pulsing inside you, could feel the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned, jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut as he fought for control. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect..."

You could only moan in response, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to the stretch of him, the delicious ache of being so full. He started to move, hips pulling back until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming forward, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, a sharp cry of pleasure-pain, back arching as he set a brutal pace, hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each drive of his hips. You could only hold on for dear life, fingers scrabbling at his back, legs locking around his waist as he fucked into you with wild abandon.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, his tongue delving deep to taste you. One hand slid between your bodies, calloused fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive bud. You keened into his mouth, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

"Come on, love," he encouraged, voice a low rumble against your lips. "Come on my cock. I want to feel you come apart around me."

His words, his touch, the intensity in his gaze, it was too much. The coil snapped, your orgasm crashing over you, back arching, a silent scream tearing from your throat as ecstasy consumed you. He groaned, hips slamming forward one last time before burying himself deep, his cock pulsing as he found his own release.

He collapsed against you, hips still twitching, breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. You could feel the hot splash of his seed painting your insides, could feel the way his cock jerked and throbbed inside you with each spurt. It made you feel claimed, made you feel owned, made you feel like you truly were his.

He lifted his head, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "You okay, love?" he asked, voice a low rumble.

You could only nod, a small smile playing on your kiss-swollen lips. "More than okay," you murmured. "That was...incredible."

His thumb brushed over your cheek, a tender caress that made your heart ache in the best way. "Aye, it was," he agreed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "You're incredible."

He rolled to the side, pulling you with him, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close. You tangled your legs with his, head pillowed on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His fingers slid up and down your back, a soothing caress that made you want to purr.

"You're not so bad yourself," you teased, tilting your head up to smile at him. "For a grumpy bastard."

He barked out a laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Cheeky bitch," he muttered, but there was no heat behind the words. If anything, there was a softness to his tone, a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

You snuggled closer, fingers tracing over the scar on his chest, the one that looked like a bullet had grazed his heart. "I love you," you whispered, voice soft and full of feeling. "I love you so much."

His arm tightened around you, holding you possessively close. "I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "More than anything."

You knew, in that moment, that you were exactly where you were meant to be. In his arms, in his bed, his wife. You were home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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sargebarnesx · 21 days ago

Text

Don’t Go ✨

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, MDNI

Warnings: language, mutual pining, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: The morning after the wedding, things are tense between you and Jake. After he tells you he wants you to prove your feelings, you realize you only have one chance to do it before he heads back to San Diego. So you take it.

Author's Note: Sequel to The Bride’s Brother. I had a lot to say with this one so I hope y’all enjoy!!

(Banner photos are from Pinterest)

Your concealer was doing a terrible job this morning.

The dark purple bruises blooming across your collarbone and creeping up your neck were peeking through the makeup you’d been pressing into your skin for the last twenty minutes.

You sighed, tossing your beauty sponge onto the counter. It looked like you’d have to wear a turtleneck to Juli and Michael’s wedding breakfast.

In the middle of June.

The time you spent with Jake the night before was burned into your brain, even without the hickeys as reminders. Once you returned to the reception, it seemed like no one had even realized you were gone - which was ideal. But things were far from okay.

Jake hadn’t given you a second glance after you’d left him in the storage room, and you didn’t blame him. You’d knowingly hurt him. Left him alone after the two of you had come together like it was the most natural thing on earth.

Although a part of you hated to admit it, Jake made you feel different. From the moment you’d caught a glimpse of him washing his mom’s car in their driveway in high school, you’d carried a torch you kept hidden - locked behind walls, disguised as hatred.

You’d never truly hated him. He was annoying and cocky and irritating, yes. But he was never mean. Never ill-intentioned. In fact, the more you thought about it, although he teased you sometimes, there was always a glint in his eye when he was around you.

You marched to your closet, knowing that if you kept thinking about the past, you’d never make it to breakfast. You searched for one of your favorite high-neck tanks, hoping the shirt and your hair would do a good enough job covering the evidence of what you’d been up to the night before. You paired it with basic jeans and sneakers.

Once you were dressed, you checked your phone. You’d tried to call Jake early that morning, and he hadn’t answered. You weren’t surprised, but you also weren’t sure how you were going to face him at breakfast.

Being vulnerable with someone like Jake was difficult, especially after the years you’d spent trying to convince him that nothing ever bothered you.

You took one last glance in the mirror, tugging your hair forward to hide the worst of the marks and smoothing your shirt down your waist like that could help somehow.

It didn’t.

After checking your phone one last time, you shoved it into your bag and slung it over your shoulder before heading out the door. The morning sun was already glaring down at you, the Texas heat suffocating.

Once you’d settled into your car, your phone buzzed. You grabbed it, hoping it was Jake, but it was Juli, making sure you were on your way. You shot back a quick confirmation text before backing out of your driveway and heading into town.

The restaurant Juli had picked was packed, but from your spot in the parking lot, you could see the wedding party, out of town guests, and both families enjoying the morning in the courtyard. Juli and Michael looked like they were floating on cloud nine, so lucky in love that you couldn’t help but beam. Then your eyes fell on Jake.

He sat at the table, looking as casual as ever, sipping tea from a glass and smiling at the person next to him. He looked handsome. Relaxed. A stark contrast to the knot tightening in your stomach.

After taking a deep breath, you climbed out of the car and adjusted your collar, pulling your hair forward. You stepped through the greenery-covered arch, and you could tell Jake’s eyes were drawn to you immediately.

His posture didn’t waver. His conversation continued. But his knee began to bounce under the table.

“There you are!” Juli called from her place beside Michael. “We figured you overslept.”

She pulled you into a hug, the space between the two of you holding more than twenty years of friendship, loyalty, and secrets.

“A little bit,” you admitted. “I’m sorry.” You cut your eyes toward Jake again, and Juli’s gaze followed.

“He leaves tomorrow,” Juli murmured. “I wish he’d been able to get more time off, but I’m glad he was here for the wedding.”

“Me too,” you agreed softly. “For you. I’m glad he was here for you. I know how much he means to you.”

You’d probably said that a little too quickly, desperate to make it seem like you weren’t happy to see him. Juli didn’t seem to notice.

“Please, find a seat,” she said, placing a hand on your arm. “Breakfast is about to be served.”

Your best friend turned away from you, no doubt searching for her husband. You scanned the table and realized someone was gesturing to you - maybe Juli’s aunt? There was an open seat next to her… and Jake.

“Right here, sweetie,” she called, patting the seat right next to Jake as you approached.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly as you sank into the seat with your back to Jake.

You were so close to him that your thigh would probably brush his if you turned to your left. His leg was still bouncing, a nervous cadence that made you want to slap a hand onto his thigh to make it stop.

An older man plopped into the seat across from you and Jake, giving both of you a once-over. “Long night, huh?” he asked with a laugh.

You forced a laugh, reaching for the glass of water at your place setting. Jake didn’t say a word. Not a hello. Not even a glance. You weren’t sure what hurt more - his silence, or the fact that you couldn’t blame him for it.

“I called you this morning,” you said under your breath, turning slightly to face him.

Jake took a long sip of his drink before answering. “I know.”

“I want to talk,” you pressed, turning fully toward him now.

Jake kept his gaze trained on his glass, his finger lightly tracing over the condensation. “We could’ve talked last night,” he said simply, pulling his leg away from yours.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know.”

He finally turned toward you, but just barely. “Don’t worry about it,” he let out a bitter chuckle. “It was a big night. Easy to walk away and pretend it didn’t mean anything. I should’ve known that’s what you’d do.”

You shook your head, trying to mask the hurt from his low blow. “I didn’t mean-”

“Time for breakfast!” Michael called out from the head of the table where he sat with Juli.

You stared at your placemat, barely registering the clatter of plates and silverware as breakfast was served around you. Jake’s hand rested on the table, inches from yours, and your fingers twitched with the urge to reach for him.

You’d never felt this before - the need to be seen by him. Just yesterday, he’d been Juli’s asshole older brother. A thorn in your side. An annoyance you’d have to deal with for the night.

But now?

Now you wanted him to look at you. To say anything.

He’d never treated you like you were invisible. Never gave up an opportunity to get under your skin.

Until today.

**********

Breakfast carried on like nothing had happened.

Laughter rippled down the long table - the exact kind of camaraderie you’d expect after two families joined together in the name of love. Juli stayed glued to Michael’s side, laughing as he whispered something in her ear, talking animatedly about the honeymoon they’d be heading off to tomorrow. Someone across from you made a joke about the DJ’s questionable taste in music, while someone else wished they’d had another piece of the wedding cake.

You laughed along with them, contributed to conversations, shared memories from the day before, but every nerve ending in your body was on edge.

It was like your body was a field of flowers and Jake was the sun, calling to you, drawing you toward him.

Without thinking, you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you reached for the fruit tray on the table in front of you.

You felt him freeze next to you, his eyes dropping to the exposed skin just above your collar.

He had no right to act so surprised when it was his fault you looked like this.

He cleared his throat, reaching for his glass, but the air was charged. There was something there. You felt it. He felt it.

And from across the table, Juli’s eyes narrowed as she watched you fix your hair.

You pushed away from the table, retreating toward the restaurant, looking for the restroom. Juli followed, a knowing look in her eye as she pushed through the door behind you.

You turned to face her. “Juli-”

She held up a hand and took a step toward you, sweeping your hair off your shoulders. Then she hooked a finger into your collar, inspecting the purple marks that littered your collarbone.

Finally, she spoke.

“He means it, you know.”

You blinked at her. “W-what?”

Juli gave a soft smile. “You don’t know how Jake has felt about you all these years?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to admit that the reason you’d overslept this morning was because you tossed and turned all night, overanalyzing every interaction you’ve ever had with Jake.

Juli continued, “I’ve basically just been waiting since, like, high school for one of you to realize you’re soulmates.”

“No,” you retorted with a small smirk. “You’re my soulmate.”

Juli laughed, rolling her eyes. “I guess you have a thing for Seresins, then. I should probably also tell you that I know the two of you hooked up last summer.”

You laughed then, incredulously. “Did Jake tell you?”

Juli shook her head. “No, but I know both of you better than you know yourselves. I could read it like a damn book as soon as Jake came home that night and told me he gave you a ride home.”

You turned toward the mirror, bracing your hands on the counter.

“I hate that we’re in here talking about me during your wedding breakfast,” you admitted.

Juli watched you through the mirror. “It’s no big deal. We’ve been in here for what, fifteen minutes? I just want to know what you’re going to do about this.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I hurt him.”

“Yeah,” Juli said softly. “But you still have time to make it right.”

She linked her arm through yours as the two of you walked back to the table. The sun had risen higher in the sky, casting a golden light against the cream colored lace of her dress.

“You got this, babe,” Juli muttered, giving your arm a squeeze as she returned to her spot by Michael. “Choose happiness. Choose yourself, for once in your life.”

Jake was watching both of you from the moment you stepped into the courtyard, and his eyes followed you all the way back to your seat.

You reached for your water, taking a sip as you waited to see what he would do.

He reached for his own glass, and before he took a sip, he turned to you. You mirrored his action.

“If you want to talk,” he said, his voice low, “we can. Just not here.”

You nodded once. “Okay.”

Jake caught your eye again. “Okay.”

The two of you turned back to the table as breakfast came to a close. Juli’s and Michael’s parents both spoke, thanking everyone for coming together to celebrate their children and wishing everyone safe travels home.

You waited by your car as you watched Jake and Juli say goodbye to their extended family. Juli walked by first, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Michael gave you a small wave as they got into their car.

Jake approached next, and you squirmed under his gaze. His hands were in his pockets, his brow slightly furrowed. You had no idea how he could look so calm and collected when emotional warfare was wreaking havoc on your mind.

“Can I come to your place?” he asked. “To talk, I mean. So it’s private.”

“Yeah,” you replied quickly - too quickly. “Do you want to follow me there?”

Jake gave a quiet chuckle, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I remember where to go.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as your cheeks heated. Of course he did. He remembered everything, it seemed - every street, every detail, every version of you.

He always paid attention, even when you’d been convinced he hadn’t.

**********

Jake towering behind you as you unlocked your door had your nerves shot.

You had no idea how this conversation was going to go. Was he angry? Did he come here just to tell you that you were an awful person and that he never wanted to see you again?

You pushed your door open and held it for him, pulling it closed as you stepped inside.

“Do you want anything to drink?” you asked, slipping your shoes off and hanging your bag on a hook by the door.

Jake stood in the middle of your living room, arms crossed over his chest. He’d never been inside your place, but he looked like he belonged here.

“No,” he said, sinking onto the couch.

You followed suit, sitting on the opposite end, watching him.

“You wanted to talk,” Jake said. “So talk.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the silence between you pressing down on your chest.

“I didn’t mean to leave like that last night,” you said finally. “Things were just… everything happened so fast.”

Jake barked out a short, humorless laugh. “Mmhm. God forbid things feel real.”

You furrowed your brow, turning toward him on the couch. “That’s not fair, Jake. We barely speak anymore, and when we do, we argue. Or call each other names. I’m not-“

You took a deep breath. “I’m not used to things being like this between us.”

“You act like I’m still some dumbass teenager,” Jake retorted. “I’ve changed, and I think you’ve seen it. Even though you don’t want to admit it.”

“I have,” you replied softly.

“I’ve felt something for you since we were in high school. It never felt like the right time for us. Then something changed last summer. I couldn’t get you out of my head. But you walked away, so I didn’t try to pursue anything.” His gaze dropped to his lap. “Last night was… everything.”

“That’s why I walked away. It was too real. Too much,” you said, fidgeting with your necklace.

His eyes followed your movement, jaw clenching. “You act like that’s a bad thing.”

You didn’t speak for a while. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing. Your head was getting in the way of your heart, like it always did.

Jake stood slowly, taking one last glance at you before walking toward the door.

You scrambled to your feet. “Jake, where are you going?”

He paused but didn’t turn around. “I thought this would be different. I guess I thought last night meant more to you than it does…”

“It meant so much to me!” you exclaimed.

“Really?” Jake turned to face you. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who wants this?”

You sighed, closing the space between you and taking his hand. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I have a hard time being vulnerable with you. You’ve got this larger-than-life personality, you light up every room you walk into. It’s honestly intimidating…” You chuckled softly before opening your eyes to look at him.

He wasn’t smiling, just watching you intently.

“I’ve always been a little bit afraid that I wouldn’t be enough for you. Especially with the distance. It terrified me, Jake. So instead, I pretended to hate you. Pretended like I didn’t think about you all the time.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes dropping to your hand still gripping his.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night last summer. Hell, I tossed and turned all night last night thinking about you,” you admitted. “I called you first thing this morning because I just needed to know I hadn’t ruined everything before it even really started.”

Jake reached up, sweeping your hair back from your shoulder, his eyes tracing the curve of your collarbone. His thumb gently brushed over the marks he’d left the night before, and he cupped your chin.

“You’ve always been enough,” he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat. For a long moment, neither of you moved. You wanted nothing more than to hear him say it again, to have him close the distance and hold you close.

But then Jake’s hand slipped from yours and he took a step back.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” he said simply.

“I know,” you whispered.

“I needed to hear all of this. Needed to know how you truly feel. But I can’t be the only one fighting for this, not again.” He stood firmly in place, watching you.

You nodded.

“If you want this, I need you to prove it.” Jake reached for the door, twisting the knob. “I’m not mad. But I’m not going to guess where I stand with you anymore. Take care.”

With that, he walked out and shut the door behind him.

You waited, hoping maybe he’d turn back around, walk back through the front door and kiss you with everything he had. But time passed like it was nothing, and you were still alone.

“Prove it,” you whispered, already unlocking your phone.

Is Jake staying at your mom’s? you typed to Juli.

Nope. He’s at a hotel in town.

A screenshot followed with the name and address. You didn’t hesitate.

You had one shot and you had to make it count.

**********

An hour later, you stood in front of your mirror in the same dress you’d worn on your date that night last summer. Your hair was longer, and the dress hugged your body a little tighter than you remembered, but you hoped he’d like it, just as he had when he was taking it off of you in his truck.

His hotel was actually very close to the restaurant from that morning, you’d discovered on the drive into town - a cute little inn with fairy lights at the entrance and vines twisting around the patio. You double checked Juli’s screenshot before making your way to his room, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you reached his door, you hesitated for a moment. It was time to be honest, time to stop hiding your feelings. If it didn’t work out, fine. But Jake deserved to know the truth.

Finally, you knocked.

The door opened a few moments later. Jake stood in front of you, looking comfortable in a simple white tee and gray sweats. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes raked over your body, hopefully recalling the last time he’d seen you in this dress.

“Hi, Jake,” you said softly.

He didn’t speak, just held the door open wider so you could walk through. His room was cozy, and you noticed his suitcase sitting open by the bed, his clothes folded neatly inside.

You turned to him, speaking quickly. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I know you’ve already been really honest, and you deserve the same from me. I want to be with you, Jake. I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time. You know exactly how to get under my skin and, surprisingly, I love that about you. You remember my favorite ice cream, the way I take my coffee… simple things that come from a lifetime of being seen. I think I had myself convinced that I was just another shadow to you - always glued to Juli’s side, just barely on your radar. I never thought you actually wanted me that close… until now.”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at you, but you kept going.

“God, Jake, I hope you know how crazy you make me. How much that night in your truck scared the hell out of me. I’d never been with anyone who made me feel that safe… that sacred. I felt like… I felt like you were made for me. And so I pushed you away, because I couldn’t handle the rejection if you didn’t feel the same. Apparently, I couldn’t handle you actually wanting me either. We’ve lost a lot of time because of me. I don’t want to lose any more. I don’t want you to leave tomorrow thinking I don’t want to be with you. You’re the whole package, Jake. You’re funny, genuine, sincere… sexy as hell.”

You let out a nervous laugh, quick and a little breathless.

“Yes, I’m still scared. Yes, I have no idea how I’ll handle long distance or being a military girlfriend. But I want to try, Jake. I want-”

“You wore that dress on purpose,” he interrupted, his voice low.

“What?” you blinked, caught off guard.

He stepped closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Your breath caught just as his hands found your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. He pulled you toward him gently, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment since you first knocked on his door.

Then his mouth was on yours.

You gasped, and he slipped his tongue between your lips, drawing out sounds you’d normally be embarrassed to make. He sighed, pressing his body flush against yours, kissing you with the kind of desperation you’d only dreamt about.

One of his hands slid up your back, curling around the back of your neck.

“You don’t have to be scared with me,” he murmured.

You nodded. “I know.”

You kissed him again, gripping his shirt with all your might. “Oh, Jake…”

He groaned, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Damn, baby, who marked you up?”

You rolled your eyes, and he gripped your hips.

“God, I love when you roll your eyes at me,” he said, placing an open mouthed kiss on your collarbone as he walked you backward until your knees touched the bed.

You hit the mattress with a soft bounce, Jake following without hesitation, one knee wedged between your legs as he braced himself above you. His mouth found yours again, slower this time, more deliberate, deeper. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to savor every second.

“You drive me absolutely crazy,” he whispered against your lips. “Always have.”

Your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, fingers tracing the skin just above his waistband. He inhaled sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

He leaned in, trailing kisses down your neck, across the bruises he’d left. “I shouldn’t like seeing these so much,” he murmured. “But I do. I really do.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rolled through you. “You’re an asshole.”

Jake chuckled and nipped at your collarbone. “And you still showed up in this dress.”

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you. “I wanted you to remember.”

“Oh, baby,” he said gruffly, “like I could ever forget.”

His mouth enveloped yours again as his hips rolled into you. You could feel his hard length straining against the soft fabric of his sweatpants, and when your hand slid down to grip him, he jerked in surprise.

“Jesus,” he groaned, bucking into your touch. “No, baby - wait. I want to taste you.”

“Can you get naked first?” you teased, smirking as you tugged at the hem of his shirt.

Jake huffed a laugh, but the way he looked down at you made your pulse quicken. It was soft, hungry, maybe even a little needy. He grabbed the back of his collar and yanked his shirt off in one smooth motion.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of sun-kissed skin, sculpted lines, and those arms. Fuck. You bit your lip, eyes raking over every inch of him.

He smirked, catching your look. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you murmured, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. You dragged them down his hips slowly, your lips ghosting over the newly exposed skin. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched you, head tipping back.

“Okay, o-okay,” he gasped, kicking the fabric away. “You next.”

You stood slowly, practically chest to chest with Jake. You reached for the zipper running down the side of your dress, your fingers shaking slightly with anticipation. You tugged it down, then slid the straps off your shoulders, one at a time, letting the dress fall from your hips and pool on the floor.

Jake’s chest was heaving, his eyes dropping from your face to your body. You weren’t wearing a bra - only panties, and your nipples were already hard, practically begging for attention.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, slipping his hands around your waist and pulling your body against his.

He leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone, then your chest. He pressed kisses as he went, until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He flicked his tongue before teasing you with his teeth, and you arched into him.

“Fuck…” you gasped, running your fingers through his hair.

He reached up and pinched your other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “One day you’ll understand how long I’ve wanted you like this. Naked, in my bed, just for me… Wanna taste you. Please.”

He backed you toward the bed again. “Lie back, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You settled into the plush pillows, spreading yourself for him. He wrapped his hands around your legs, pressing hot, wet kisses down your thighs as he made his way to your soaking center.

He looked up at you as he hooked his fingers in your panties, dragging them down slowly. When they slipped past your ankles, he tossed them aside, then knelt between your legs like it was the only place he ever wanted to be.

“Look at you,” he murmured, spreading your thighs wider. “This pussy’s so needy for me…”

You whimpered as his breath ghosted over you, your hips arching.

Jake leaned in and dragged his tongue through your folds in one slow stroke. Your hand flew to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as he groaned into you.

Every flick of his tongue, every swirl around your clit, sent shivers down your spine. His eyes caught yours again as he sucked on your clit, teasing your entrance with his fingers.

You squirmed beneath him. “Jake…” you whined, your thighs tensing.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against you.

When he slipped two fingers inside you, you couldn’t help but cry out. It was like he’d memorized every inch of you, every spot that drove you over the edge.

“Let me feel it, baby,” he whispered as he curled his fingers. “Come for me.”

The feeling of his mouth and fingers working in tandem had your heart racing. Your thighs trembled, your breath caught, and it felt like something inside you snapped.

“Jake!” you cried, but he only buried his tongue deeper inside you. He crossed his arms over your hips, holding you down as he guided you through your orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you breathed as Jake kissed your heated skin. He dragged his tongue up your stomach, licked at each nipple, then pressed his lips to yours. You groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, digging your nails into his taut shoulders.

“I need you inside me,” you whispered. “Now.”

“Mm,” Jake moaned against your neck. “How bad?”

“So bad,” you whimpered, sliding your hand between your bodies to stroke him.

He inhaled sharply. “Fuck, baby.”

His hand joined yours, and he lined himself up - not even taking a moment to tease before pushing himself inside you. Your mouth fell open, and you gasped as he stretched you.

“Look at me,” he moaned softly, pumping in and out of you slowly.

You took his hand and pulled him down so that his body was flush against yours.

“Wanna be close to you,” was all you said.

Jake nodded, slipping his hands under your back. His hips rocked into you, and you wrapped your legs around him, letting him slide deeper.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his breath ragged. “Spent so many nights wishing you were mine.”

You took his face in your hands. “I am,” you whispered. “I’m yours, Jake Seresin.”

He kissed you then, but it wasn’t the same heated, desperate kiss you’d shared before. This was soft, heavy with desire and longing. His cock dragged inside you just right, and you could feel another orgasm building low in your belly.

“I love the way we fit together,” you said, chest heaving. “Love the way you touch me… the way you make me feel.”

“Yeah?” Jake asked breathlessly.

You nodded, your hands roaming his back. You could feel every muscle stretching, every heaving breath, as he pumped into you.

“I’m so close,” he whined. “You feel so good.”

He buried his face in your neck as his hips bucked up, his breathing ragged. It felt so right, having him this close, this deep. He was going to destroy you in the best way.

“Don’t hold back. I want it. I want you,” you moaned, tightening your legs around him.

He kissed you hard, driving into you with urgency. Your second orgasm came fast, and you arched into him, saying his name like a prayer against his lips. You didn’t even have time to come down from your high before he was gripping your hips so tightly you were sure he’d leave fingerprints.

“God, baby - fuck!” he cried, sheathing himself fully inside you as he came, his whole body shaking.

The two of you stayed connected, your hearts pounding in sync. He caught your gaze, and you smiled at how completely wrecked he looked. You were sure you looked the same.

He slowly lowered himself onto the bed beside you, and you reached for his hand. He took it and lifted it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your palm.

The room was quiet other than the sound of your breathing and the low hum of the A/C. Jake traced gently circles on the back of your hand, his skin sticky with sweat.

“Please don’t go,” he said finally, turning his head to look at you.

You rolled onto your stomach, right against his side.

You weren’t sure what tomorrow would look like. Hell, you weren’t even sure what the next few hours would bring. But in that moment, with his hand in yours, his breath warm against your skin, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#jake seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #glen powell #glen powell fanfic

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 month ago

Text

Sources of Strength | j. s. | Finale

Jake Seresin x school counselor!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: SO MUCH DOMESTIC FLUFF

Author’s Note: Once again, thank you for all the love for the Top Gun boys and their ladies in education. I think Rooster needs to meet one next…Also, almost ended this with a shitty joke because it felt in character but I DID NOT so if you're interested in what it is, hmu lmao (ps this gif specifically does something to me fuck)

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | Coffee?

“I’m offended that Baby on Board didn’t ask me to be a groomsman.”

“I can only imagine why he didn’t,” she comments sarcastically, finishing up the wing of her eyeliner.

“How is it fair that I have to watch my girlfriend walk down the aisle with Rooster?” Jake continues to complain as he adjusts his tie in the mirror.

“Oh, I asked for that,” she clarifies and the look of genuine betrayal he has on his face in the mirror is worth it. You’d think after six months, he’d have learned better. It wasn’t her idea; she just didn’t argue with it. “I’m just kidding –you’re so easy to rile up. It’s cute.”

Jake turns and leans against the counter, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re an asshole.”

“And yet you still keep me around,” she counters, standing up straight to look up at him. Then she fixes his tie again, hands trailing down his chest when she finishes. “You look handsome, you know.”

His hands are on her hips without question, pulling her against him. When he tries to bunch up the fabric of her bridesmaid dress, though, she swats his hand away. Jake lets out an over dramatic groan, throwing his head back. He mumbles something about her being a tease.

“No, no —not until after the ceremony and the pictures. Then you can ruin my makeup. But not before.”

“That a promise, darlin’?”

Much to Jake’s immediate relief, she is not walking down the aisle with Rooster, but instead with Fanboy. He knows better than to let something petty like that get to him. And usually he doesn’t even clock her interactions with other men; while he’s always got an eye on her, it’s rarely because of jealousy. Though, Rooster might be the damn exception. However, something about a wedding and the aisle got to him –especially because her bridesmaid dress is the lightest pink it can be without being white. But it’s close enough, and Jake thinks he’s going to get her down the aisle himself one day.

When she passes by him, she winks playfully before taking her spot in the lineup of bridesmaids. Phoenix is Bob’s best man, to absolutely no one’s surprise, in her own pink gown with Rooster beside her and another guy that Jake doesn’t know. The maid of honor is a woman he doesn’t know either, but Halo and his girl are lined up behind her with bright smiles on their faces.

And somehow, they convinced Maverick to be the officiant.

Everyone turns when the processional starts, but Jake’s watching Bob from the corner of his eye. If anyone asks, it’s because he’s absolutely going to give him shit for his reaction to seeing his bride. But the truth is that he’s a sucker for first looks. Always has been.

So when the doors open and the bride steps into clear view, Jake grins ear to ear when Bob covers his mouth and starts to tear up. Because that is how you react when your future wife walks down the aisle –and Jake thinks he’s going to have the same reaction when his girl does the same.

He’s been thinking too much about marrying her –he’s not going to deny it. It’s hard not to think about it, even though they don’t even live together. She’s at his place more often than not anyway, and he doesn’t need to live with her to know that she’s ruined him for anyone else.

No, no –she’s it for him. He knew it after the second date.

“You can all be seated,” Maverick announces, smiling as the bride and groom face each other. “I…I’m honored that I was asked to marry these two. But I’ll be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing so it will probably be quick. Though, I don’t think either of you mind being married sooner,” he teases, looking between the two with a smile.

A beat passes, and Maverick seems to pick up the thought he needs to finish.

“I’ve spent most of my life in the sky. High-speed, high-stakes, not exactly the kind of job that lends itself to slow, quiet moments like this. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when you find something –or someone –that makes you want to stay grounded, that’s rare. That’s real.” For a moment, he glances at Bob, then he looks to the bride with a knowing smile. “You two…you’ve got something solid. Not flashy. Not showy. Just steady. And trust me, that’s the stuff that lasts. Love like that isn’t about grand gestures or perfect conditions. It’s about showing up every single day. Especially when it’s hard. Especially when you don’t feel like it. Especially when you’d rather eject,” he adds, with a faint smirk. “Sorry. Had to get one in.”

The crowd chuckles, and Jake rolls his eyes some –but he’s smiling as he looks at his girl now, who's tearing up already. Maverick continues, softer now.

“I don’t have some long speech prepared. That’s not really me. But I will say this: you’re not just promising to love each other today. You’re promising to choose each other –every day after this one. That takes guts. That takes commitment. And from where I’m standing, I don’t see two people hoping this works out. I see two people who already know it will.

“So… let’s get to it. You both prepared vows, right?”

She’s the one that nods first, wiping her eyes gently with a small laugh. “I…yeah, I wrote this letter like a week after you deployed,” she explains, taking out a piece of paper that’s been folded one too many times. “I never sent it. But I’m…I’m going to read it to you, because I think it’s the only thing I can say that’s perfect for this moment.” She stops and takes a breath, but for the next few moments, it’s like neither of them know anyone else is in the room with them.

“‘Bob, you’ve only been gone a week and it feels like I’ve lost a part of myself,’” she reads, and her hands are shaking as she does. “‘I wish I could explain better that you not being home is like taking all the air out of my lungs and throwing me in the ocean. Which is very dramatic and I’m very aware of that, but it’s the best analogy I could come up with. I’ve been too scared to tell you that I think you’re it for me, though I think you already know that. You always do know these things before I do, what with the mind reading powers you seem to possess.

“‘But the moment you walked away the other day, I think I realized how serious I am: you’re it. I’m going to marry you one day. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how it’ll happen. But I am going to marry you, and I am going to be a military wife which is very weird for me to think about. But anywhere you go, I’ll go. I love you, and I’ll love you every day until I can’t. And even then, I’ll probably try.

“‘Just come home. That’s all I ask. I’ll see you soon. I love you.’”

Jake doesn’t take his attention from the couple, but there’s no way there’s a dry eye in this room. He’s trying to keep his composure, but goddamn it’s hard. But it’s Bob who looks like he’s not going to be able to keep himself steady.

“Wow, I…,” Bob stammers out, and his hands are shaking as he wipes his eyes. “Wow. Okay. That’s…that definitely puts mine to shame,” he manages to laugh, looking down at his feet as he pulls out his own paper and unfolds it. “I uh, I’m not great at writing —that’s your speciality. I just…,” he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. Then he finally gets to his vows.

“The first time we met, at your school event, one of my first thoughts was that I didn’t see a wedding ring and that I could fix that. It was just an off hand thought, because you were…the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. You still are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“I am not someone who dives headfirst into things —I plan everything. I know every outcome but you…you I never planned for,” he admits, and his hands are trembling as he puts the paper back into his pocket. “But I knew after our lunch that everything I did from that point on, I’d have to plan for you being there too. And I was right.

“Seeing you when I got back from deployment only confirmed every decision I’d made up to that point —you’re my home. Anywhere you are is where I belong. And I promise that as long as you’ll have me, I’ll do everything in my power to give you the life you deserve.”

From the corner of his eye, Jake can see that his girl is eyeing him. He shoots her a wink, but turns his attention back to Bob and his bride, who are exchanging their rings and watching each other like no one else is in the room. And there might as well not be when Maverick says they can kiss —because the two are on each other without hesitation and the room erupts in applause.

The reception is where things get real exciting. Mr. and Mrs. Floyd disappeared after their photos, which took only twenty minutes of the hour-long cocktail hour. They both come back right when it wraps up, and Jake jokes that they were getting their wedding night started early. She elbows him playfully as the couple is introduced for the first time, and share their first dance. Jake wants to tease them; tell them that they managed to choose the cheesiest song. He can’t though, because to be fair, Shania Twain is the best choice, objectively speaking.

“We could take a page outta their book,” he continues, pulling her in by the waist. “You did promise me.”

“I’d like at least one dance with you,” she confesses, wrapping her arms around his neck. The way she’s looking at him –like he’s somehow the only person she sees –makes him want to give her anything and everything she asks for.

Doesn’t mean he won’t play hard to get though. It is their favorite pastime, after all.

“Would you believe me if I say I got two left feet?”

“My god,” she gasps, putting a hand over her heart like she’s scandalized. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin isn’t good at something? Where’s Bradley, he needs to know —,”

She’s pulling away, and he’s rolling his eyes as he pulls her flush against him, gripping her hips a little tighter than before. Keeping her from running off and being the menace that she damn well is.

“One dance,” he offers, holding a finger up. “Then you’re mine for the night.”

“I’m yours almost every night,” she reminds him as he leads her out onto the dance floor with the other couples.

“Not every night,” he counters as he takes her hand and takes the lead.

“And whose fault is that?”

He thinks Bob absolutely chose the playlist, with the amount of classic country songs playing, but Jake isn’t complaining. Especially as they start swaying gently under the lights. He can feel the warmth of her hand in his, the easy way she fits against him, like this is just something they’ve always done. The music hums around them, slow and steady, like it’s working up the nerve for something too.

Six months. That’s how long he’s been holding it in –rolling it around in his chest like a stone he’s not sure is smooth enough yet. He’s said a hundred other things; You look beautiful. I miss you. Be safe. Stay the night. But not that. Not the one thing that’s been right there every time he watches her tuck her hair behind her ear or call him out on whatever cocksure thing he does to get her attention.

He shifts a little to look down at her, just for a second. Her eyes are closed. She’s just…here. With him. Trusting him. And somehow, that’s the part that almost undoes him.

He’s scared, which is ridiculous. He’s been in dogfights in the sky; actual fights on land. Done some objectively stupid things, and taken even more objectively stupid risks that could have killed him –and yet telling her how he feels is the scariest thing he’s probably ever going to do.

Because if she doesn’t say it back…If she laughs, or she panics, or God forbid –doesn’t believe him –,

Jake exhales, steadying himself, feeling the words rise again in his throat like they’ve been waiting for permission to be said.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, voice soft but sure as he lifts her chin to meet his gaze.

It’s that look she gives him –it’s that look she gives him that stops time. Her eyes open slowly, and Jake sees everything all at once: not an ounce of surprise –no, of course she’s not surprised he loves her. The look is something else. It’s something gentle. Like she’s been waiting, too. Like the words settle into place somewhere deep in her, grounding her. Her brows lift just slightly –not in disbelief, but like hearing him finally say it means something more to her.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. She just looks at him like he’s the safest, most reckless thing she’s ever wanted.

“I know,” she admits back, and Jake blinks a few times. Waiting for her to say it back. But she doesn’t –not yet, at least. “I’ve known for a while that you love me, Jake.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” He asks, hand cupping the base of her jaw gently as he does.

“Because I wanted you to figure it out yourself,” she explains, but she’s reaching up now, tugging on his tie to pull him closer to her. His hands drop to her waist, holding her close to him. “I love you too, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah?” He asks, because she knows damn well he needs that validation.

“Since that first date,” she reassures, smiling brightly as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his.

It’s warm and familiar, kissing her, but there’s something new –something deeper. It’s not rushed or hungry; it’s steady –promising something that Jake is sure wasn’t there before. His hands settle at her waist like they’ve always belonged there, and hers stay locked behind his neck. There's a quiet exhale between kisses, a shared breath that says everything he needs to know about their future. And when they part just enough to look at each other, their foreheads touch and they’re both grinning like fools.

It’s not their first kiss –but it’s the first one that feels like forever.

-----

Taglist: @theladybiers @jackiehollanderr

———

Top Gun x Teacher Universe -> Bradley Bradshaw

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #glen powell #glen powell x reader #Spotify

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haechanhues · 3 months ago

Text

In My Head, You Have Always Been Mine

pairing : first love! jake x fem!reader

genre : angst with sort of comfort. fluff (ish)

warnings : bittersweet tone throughout.

word count : 0.978 words.

summary : you are a couple that have always belonged to each other and now...

inspired by : nanon concert (born to act 2024) tu tontawan and nanon. // playlist : cute cute - nanon.

it's a moment.

you're caught off guard. the tears that were pooling in your eyes, halting at the sight of him.

first love! jake didn't mean to come here. fearful of the past catching up to him and the 'what ifs' that have plagued him year after year.

you exhale shakily, "you look amazing."

jake scoffs, "how dare you say that to me while looking the way you do."

you always said you would never wear white. that it didn't suit you. drowned you out. but here you were - looking like you were meant to be.

you smiled, and shrugged. a testament to the older days. when there was a maybe between you and him.

"y/n?"

"jaeyun...?"

silently, he holds out both of his hands and hesitantly, you rest your own hands in his. the two of you shuddering as his thumb gently circles over your knuckle. in this tension you believe you could feel the slight indent of his fate line, right on the skin of your palm.

he presses his lips together, stepping slightly backwards with a quick sniff of his nose. twirling you once. twice. three times. and on the third, he hears it.

your laugh.

it's a laugh button for him. he laughs back, wholeheartedly. spinning you again and again until you smack him slightly on his chest, chastising him for your temporarily dizzy vision and your hair in disarray.

"sorry, sorry," he pleads, poking at your hair until it falls down perfectly.

you smile softly as he fixes a stray hair that barely escaped, the pad of his finger picking up an eyelash on your cheek, careful not to smudge your makeup. wanting to stop him as he hands you your lip gloss and spritzing you one last time with perfume.

you feel it again, the heaviness creeping up on you.

"jaeyun...."

"don't cry y/n," jake shakes his head, only to frown in concern as you crumble under his attention.

you swallow air, your mouth opening, wet with unshed tears and a bleeding heart, choked whimpers caught in your throat. jake's eyebrows furrow as he cups your face, close enough to press his lips to yours.

you wonder if he realises his lips have you thinking about magenta hills and makeup swatches. baby pink silk and sticky marshmallow residue. lipstick on espresso mugs and missed opportunities.

"you...have always been you," jake curses, "and for a while you were mine. in my head, that is. i fucking regret that."

you don't say anything.

"...even now. a part of me is still insistent," jake chokes, emotion clogging his airway, "but...what you need. what you want to do. is to put your pretty shoes on..."

his tone is soft. and his intentions are pure (enough).

"with this pretty dress. on this pretty day. with your pretty make up carrying these pretty flowers," his fingers dangle off your digits as he leans over to pick up the bouquet from the brass side table, "for the prettiest girl i've ever known."

you smile fondly at him, watching his round eyes that dig into your soul, and he can't help the slight edge that enters his voice as he adds, "whilst making a marginally okay, barely there average guy the luckiest person in the world."

"you make his worth go skywards, y/n," jake whispers.

"how do you know that? you don't know him," you huff back, just as quiet as the boy kneeling in front of you, putting on your shoes. but you're smiling again.

"don't have to, i know you," jake smirks, "and i have experience."

"that's what it was like with me."

a confession, at last. you think. but just to be sure-

"i'm confused, is this a confession?"

he gapes, as if scandalised, the truth in his eyes but body possessed by a court jester, "on your wedding day, y/n? i wouldn't dare!"

you roll your eyes, letting your first love lead you out to the path you couldn't walk to yourself. he's warm and he's stable. and he's like a version of home you can't help but crave.

but.

"are you staying?"

"me? no."

"why not?"

"don't ask me why without expecting me to lie to you," jake grins, though no mirth is in his eyes.

"i'm not expecting you to lie to me."

he opens his mouth, as if to whisper his truths to you. only for the door to open and your day and your future laid out in front of the both of you. it's beautiful, jake thinks. he doesn't expect any less. but there's no place for him, not anymore.

he unhooks his arm from yours, offering you to your father without a fuss. only to find you're staring at him. not quite as heavy, but still sad. still a little longing in your gaze.

so he leaves a little present.

"y/n l/n, you'll always be too pretty for the world we're in," he purrs, backing away from you.

watching only to see if you got it and gradually you did. he saw the way your face transformed, a throwback in his words and an ugly cackle threatening to escape from your throat.

"you come up with a better one then," you mouth to him.

and he sees you two again, school uniform. a random autumn day. leaves falling in rich oranges and decaying browns. a random confession by an underclassman that had the two of you in stitches (and secretly jake was green with jealousy; wishing he had the balls to do the same)

you had dared him to come up with something better, but nothing ever came close.

not even at this little moment of closure.

and a minor thought. jake notes, with a slight tilt of his head, that the groom kind of looks like the underclassman. a tiny bit.

author's note : sorry, this was not proofread at all. but nanontu have been my obsession without anything to show for it for too long. so here i am...

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alittlegiraffe · 3 months ago

Note

hiii, could you please write one about y/n going out with her friends, marshall stays home and watches the kids, he’s sees her in the dress she’s going out in and he gets anxious about the guys that will hit on her at the club. y/n comes home and marshall shows her how much he missed her while she was out.

Hey! This is the fic your request inspired. Pretty sure it's terrible and not what you wanted....Sorry! I'm in a weird mood.

Title: "Too Good to Let Go"

It was finally happening. You were going out for a girl's night—one of those rare occasions that had come up when your friend was getting married, and the bachelorette party was in full swing. Marshall, on the other hand, was staying home, grumbling about not being included.

You walked around the house, slipping into your dress, adjusting your hair, and putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Marshall leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning you. There was a slight frown on his face, but his gaze was softer than usual, a quiet storm of emotion behind it.

“Where do you think you’re going looking all... like that?” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at you.

You chuckled, feeling a little heat in your cheeks from the intensity of his stare. “It’s just a bachelorette party, babe,” you replied, giving him a teasing smile as you turned to grab your purse.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered, stalking closer to you. “You're going out looking like that... without me?” He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you to him. “You know, you're mine, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his possessiveness, the way his lips barely curled into a grin. "I’m just going to hang out with the girls, Marshall. It’s nothing. Trust me."

“Yeah, right. I know how this goes,” he sighed. “I just... I don’t like you looking that good, especially not when you’re leaving me behind.” He kissed your forehead, a soft, almost reluctant gesture. “I’ll be waiting here, missing you.”

You shot him a playful smile as you adjusted your purse strap. "You’ll be fine, Marsh. Plus, you have the girls here. You’ll manage."

As you stepped out of the house and into the car waiting for you, Marshall lingered at the door, watching you go. His hand rested on the frame as if he was holding onto the thought of you for just a little longer.

The night started innocently enough—drinks, laughter, and fun with your friends. You hated going out, but the idea of celebrating your friend’s upcoming wedding did excite you a bit. Yet, as the night wore on, it didn’t take long before you found yourself texting Marshall every few minutes, checking in. You couldn’t help it.

How’s it going, babe?

Miss you already. I look ridiculous without you.

Everything okay at home?

Marshall’s responses were quick and to the point, but there was a tenderness to them, a subtle hint that he was more than just annoyed you were out.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just waiting for you to get back.

How’s the party going?

You took a sip of your drink and tilted your head back, texting him again.

I'm not having fun without you. It’s just... too loud here. I miss you. Can’t wait to be home with you.

The group of girls teased you lightly, but you found yourself more absorbed in the screen of your phone than in the party atmosphere. You hated the thought of being away from Marshall. Every moment without him felt like a waste.

As the hours passed, your thoughts became more fuzzy, your head spinning slightly from the alcohol. Your texts became increasingly more frequent, the messages blurring with your tipsy state.

Babe, I hate this so much. This is the worst idea ever.

I want to be with you so bad.

You face-timed him, your face flushed from the drinks and the overwhelming feeling of missing him. His face lit up on the other end, but you could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.

"Is this how you spend your nights when you're supposed to be having fun?" Marshall teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I miss you!” you slurred, your words a little unsteady. "You're so cute, Marshall. Do you know that? So cute. Like... you're so... ugh... I miss your face. And your... everything."

Marshall laughed, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, huh?” he asked, his tone amused, yet there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I miss you,” you repeated, before bursting into laughter at yourself. You were drunk, and you knew it, but Marshall’s face on the screen made everything better.

“I’m fine here, sweetheart,” he said, teasing. “Just waiting for my gorgeous wife to get back home. You’re the one out partying. But I get it... you're having a blast.” He flashed a playful grin, but you could hear the protective tone in his voice.

“I don’t like it,” you mumbled, pulling the phone closer. “I used to tell my friends you were gay so they wouldn’t try to get with you... back when we were just friends.”

Marshall’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked absolutely floored. "You what?" he laughed, clearly not expecting that.

You giggled, nodding, feeling the need to confess everything in your drunken state. “Yeah, I was like, 'Don't even try. He’s gay.’ That way, no one would hit on you.”

Marshall doubled over laughing, almost spilling his drink. “You are crazy,” he said between laughs. “You wanted to keep me all to yourself even back then, huh?”

You pouted, feeling both embarrassed and charmed by his amusement. "I just didn’t want anyone thinking you were... available. You’re mine, Marsh. Always have been."

He smirked, wiping a tear from his eye as he fought to regain composure. "You definitely have a way of making things interesting. I guess that's why I love you."

As the night dragged on, you were beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol even more. The car pulled up outside, and you could see Marshall standing by the door, arms crossed.

When you stepped out, you practically stumbled into his arms, his warm embrace the safest place you could imagine.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled against his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I missed you so much."

He chuckled softly, lifting you up in his arms, carrying you back inside as if you weighed nothing. “You’re the most adorable drunk person I know,” he said, teasing. “Let’s get you to bed, alright? I love you, crazy woman.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled, holding onto him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And as Marshall laid you down in bed, he chuckled softly, his hand brushing through your hair. "And no more telling people I’m gay, okay? Pretty sure I’m not the one who’s drunk tonight."

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection wash over you. "Okay, Marsh. I promise."

The two of you shared a quiet, contented moment, knowing that no matter how many nights you had to go out, there was only one place you truly wanted to be: with him. And that was enough.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #gracie answers #reader requests

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radioisntdead · 1 year ago

Text

Maybe one day I could learn to love you..

Alastor x reader, Human au!

Summary:

Alastor and reader are put in an arranged marriage and, one of them falls and the other doesn't know where he stands.

Warnings!

Murder, death, inaccurate portrayal of the 1920's??, OOC, this was edited but there are probably misspellings around, not beta read [How do I acquire a beta reader??] Me projecting my Aroace vibes onto the reader and Alastor, reader is implied to be afab (is that the right term?) because 1920's but GN, also reader is put in a wedding dress.

Song

You and Alastor didn't know each other super well, you knew each other well enough to be friends but not super close, the only way the two of you even met was because his mother was a close friend of yours,

The two of you were "getting up there in age." and "should marry soon."

Frankly neither of you wanted to get married but you couldn't exactly express that to your folks, and Alastor couldn't bare to see his mother sad that she wouldn't be able to see her only child start a family.

There was only so many times you could use the "haven't met the right person'' excuse before they decided to set you and Alastor up.

You and Alastor sat at a café to see how things play out and long story short agreed that it would be beneficial for the two of you to wed, a marriage of convenience.

His mother would be satisfied in thinking her son wouldn't be alone when she was gone, and your parents wouldn't nag at you, saying you'd become a spinster.

You sat in a dressing room, in a beautiful white dress, your mother was right outside along with a few family members, you could barely make out their voices saying how excited they were.

You looked into the mirror, your makeup was beautifully done, hair done up like a princess's

Anxiety filled you, you wondered if you would feel like this if you were marrying someone you had romantic feelings for?

You shook your head and took a deep breath, standing up you opened the door, being greeted by smiling faces.

Can we become we,

You walked down the aisle, a painted smile plastered on your face.

No longer known as just you and me

Alastor continually smiled, not breaking it as the two of you exchanged vows.

he gently took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to lift your hand and kiss it,

You could hear a few folks in attendance cooing at the action, you could already hear the on-coming whispers of how 'in love' the two of you seemed.

Two separate lives now in unity

"You may now kiss the bride."

It was quick, a small peck before turning around to face your loved ones and others that were invited.

Stuck here together but

Unease filled you as the reception came to an end, after the concerning amount of dancing and drinking, it was time for them to bid the two of you farewell for your honeymoon, you hugged your parents goodbye, he did the same with his mother and the two of you stepped into the car and there you went.

Will this always be just an arrangement

You were uneasy as you got ready for bed, silently praying that you wouldn't have to do anything, but preparing yourself for the possibly that you would just have to grin and bare it, lay back and disassociate.

Thankfully nothing happened, Alastor bid you a goodnight and promptly passed out.

And neither of you brought it up, consummating your marriage was never a topic between you, and for that the two of you were secretly relieved.

You were glad you married Alastor out of all people. [Said no one ever]

Can we become more

As time went on you and Alastor became closer, and feelings began to consume you, sneaking in slowly, it started with you noting how Alastor preferred more bitter or savory foods as opposed to sweets, or how he preferred black coffee to tea.

It was the 1920's, you didn't have a term for what you were back then, and so you thought you were just not meant to be in love, that maybe something was wrong with you? Why weren't you wired like your peers were? You thought that maybe you were too young for feelings like that but you realized that wasn't the case as you grew

You remember talking with your friends, and while they were more prone to crushes or saying what they would do to someone based off their appearance, you always felt a little odd, you were reassured by them saying maybe you just had higher standards, or just hadn't met the right person yet,

But that didn't really explain the fact that you didn't look at a person and think that you wanted to bed them

Than half of a union we’re chosen for?

Alastor had a similar experience, although he had been different in other ways, after all he did killed people so that probably had an effect on it (it probably did but not in this case)

His dear mama just told him he hadn't met the right person yet, and he didn't have a reason not to believe his mother.

On his side he was going to avoid it as long as he could, and he did until he was matched up with you, and wedded.

It not only gave him a cover, you were a perfect alibi, it gave his mama peace of mind.

You were a good companion as well, you weren't overly touchy, you were smart and had your wits about, you could keep up with him,

You became a good friend who he just so happened to wed.

Where I am your best half

The romantic feelings you felt you clung onto desperately, afraid that if you let them go you'd never be able to feel them again, after all where would you find someone like Alastor? [In a Prison probably]

Not to mention the two of you were already married so that was already a done deal, this is the best situation to be in, right? Falling in love with a person you were already married to?

And I am yours

Your affections became more obvious by the day, lingering touches, acts of service becoming more frequent, spending more time together.

For Alastor it was becoming harder to hide the Blood stains that would get on his shirts from you.

Stuck here forever and hopefully not ending in estrangement

Alastor's mother absolutely adored you, you were a decent person, loving and caring to her son, not to mention you were such a sweetheart to her, helping her in the kitchen, helping her move around as it got harder to do in her old age.

It’s the step of faith, We have to take sometimes

His Ma sat him down one day while you were out running errands, telling him to cherish you more,

Not wanting to disappoint his ma, he slowly but surely began to return your affections a bit more, not by much but a little bit more.

If I’m, with you, I can take it

The two of you would go dancing at the speakeasy Mimzy worked at, cook together, he'd murder people behind your back, the two of you would spend time together doing projects like puzzles.

But if we are one, What happens to you and I

Alastor's mother started getting sick.

It started with a cough, which she dismissed to you and Alastor as just a cold, that didn't stop the two of you from making her meals and making her rest but it got worse, the cough turned into hacking late at night and struggling to breathe.

If I’m, with you, I will make it

The doctors couldn't do much, only suggesting medicines that would give her relief.

Will this always be just an arrangement? We’ll find out in time if we don’t break it

You were there with her, at one side while Alastor was at her other, Alastor held her hand as she breathed her last breath.

Can mine become yours, combining our dreams

Alastor was a complete and utter mess, after all that was his mother, the person closest to him besides you, gone.

He would never see her again, he would move to call her and tell her good news,

She wasn't there,

He went to call her at noon like he did every day?

She wasn't there, he had to train himself to not automatically go to the phone, if he found himself dialing her telephone he'd hear the phone operator ask who he's trying to call, and he'd have a moment to remember that the person he was trying to call was no longer with them.

Without keeping score

You were a shoulder to cry on, helping him keep sane, the two of you grieved for his mother together, you helped plan a great funeral, sparing no expense she was practically a second mother to you after all.

Always together, but never bored, No choice in the matter but

The world didn't end when his mother died, he was lucky enough to get a few weeks off but Radio waits for no one, and he was needed back.

This will never work without each other

He went to work, you'd listen in on the radio while doing whatever you did, working, vibing, I don't know what you did for a living.

Can we become we, start a new line on this family tree

Things healed, they would never be the same, obviously you can't bring back the dead, but things were okay, the two of you had each other especially after the stock market crash and everything that followed,

Two hearts connected by one beat

You had a special place in Alastor's twisted murdery heart, it was likely that Alastor wouldn't return your affections, but that was alright, you were content staying near him.

Your hand in mine and

The two of you were dancing, he held your hand as he twirled you around, looking into his eyes with your own lovesick ones you smiled

"I could never choose to love another"

It slipped out, it took the two of you a moment to process it, Alastor let out a sigh, a twinge of guilt? Or something else flashed in his eyes

"Maybe one day I can learn to love you, too."

One day would never come through, for your life was cut short before Alastor's, a bad flu had taken you out, folks often forget how deadly the flu can be.

Alastor was by your side as you breathed your last.

The world didn't stop spinning because you died, but he didn't handle it well, first his Ma and now you, two of the most important people in his life gone just like that, both taken out by some type of sickness, was this punishment for murdering people? The two innocent people he cherished perishing?

Alastor would more then likely never see you or his mother again because when he fell below you were safe and sound above.

While Alastor was clawing for power below you were living your best afterlife above, doing whatever hobbies your heart desired, moving forward with new friends, family that included Alastor's mother, and maybe a paramour? Or maybe not, you were okay with or without one.

Unfortunately for Alastor you were embedded in his memory, every once in awhile you would pop in late at night when he was trying to sleep or do something productive, plaguing his mind with what ifs.

On the other side you were blessed with ignorance, after all he couldn't haunt your memories, he couldn't pop into your mind with what ifs, and you couldn't miss Alastor if you didn't remember him.

Good evening folks! I need to quit killing the reader off, sorry this was delayed!

I was going to go a completely different direction with this but that would've had a happy ending

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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sissybabycucksophia · 2 months ago

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The Adult Baby Adoption Part 11

(This story is complete fiction and although i may desperately wish it isn’t, there is no fact or real world experience behind this story, and themes reflected in the story may be triggering, these themes are not my actual beliefs and are only part of a fantasy kink scenario. ALSO! James is a 24 year old adult and as is the woman he has been turned into, these pictures AI generated pictures depict a 24 year old jade.)

I must’ve drifted off without meaning to. One moment I was trying to follow the voice on the tablet explaining how to blend blush properly, and the next, Daddy was stroking my hair, calling me his “pretty little artist.” My cheeks were still sticky with makeup, clumsy and uneven, but he smiled like I’d done something special. He didn’t say much. Just gently lifted me out of the chair, unzipped my playsuit, and stripped me down like it was the most normal thing in the world. I didn’t resist. I never do. The wipes were cold, the powder smelled sweet, and the fresh diaper was thick, so thick I could barely close my legs when he sat me back up. Then he pulled the nightdress over my head. It was soft and fleecy and childish beyond belief, with the three Disney princesses stretched across my chest like some toddler’s bedtime onesie. He smoothed it down, kissed my forehead, and tucked me into bed like I was five. “Tomorrow’s a big day, sweetheart,” he whispered. I didn’t ask what he meant. I just nodded, cheeks burning, and let sleep take me.

“Up you get, sweetheart.” Cynthia’s voice was soft but without patience, like she expected me to obey before I was even fully awake. My eyes fluttered open and I blinked at the soft pink haze of the room, then the crinkle of my nightdress shifting as she pulled back the covers reminded me what I was wearing. The fleece clung to my legs. My diaper was warm, thick, and freshly powdered from last night.

She didn’t give me time to stretch or ask what was happening. One hand around my wrist, the other steady at my back, she eased me up and led me straight across the room to the makeup table. The mirror was still lit from the night before, catching the tangled state of my princess wig, still firmly glued to my scalp, even in sleep. I mumbled something, nothing coherent, and she just hushed me gently, sitting me down on the little padded stool like a doll being reset for playtime. “Let’s fix this mess, Jade,” she said, already pulling a brush through the platinum strands. “You’ve got to look perfect.”

I didn’t ask why. She never told me anyway. She worked in silence, fingers quick and practiced as she parted the long hair and began sculpting it into that impossibly childish style, the Bow Bun. High on my crown. Fluffed into place. Pinned and sprayed until it stood like a proud, humiliating badge. “There,” she said after a final adjustment. “Now you’re ready to be seen.” But I still didn’t know by who.

Cynthia had just finished adjusting the last pin when the door opened again, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know it was Daddy. His steps were slower than usual, deliberate. He stood behind me for a moment, one hand resting gently on my shoulder, the other brushing the edge of my Bow Bun.

“You’re looking so sweet this morning, princess,” he murmured. “Just the way I want you.” I tried not to squirm. The crinkle of my diaper was loud in the quiet room, and the fleece nightdress still clung to me from sleep.

He leaned down, voice low and warm against my ear. “You know, a few weeks ago, something came in the mail. Addressed to you, but of course, you don’t get mail anymore. That’s not for babies to worry about.”

My stomach tightened. “It was a wedding invitation. Fancy envelope, gold lettering. I almost didn’t open it, but then I saw the names. Darla and Tyrone.” I froze. Darla. I hadn’t heard her name in what felt like forever. Not since everything shattered. She’d been my girlfriend, two years of shared plans, holidays, whispered promises. I’d tried to believe we were solid. I wanted to. But there was always him.

Tyrone.Some smug gym rat who worked with her sister’s fiancé, always hanging around, always too casual with his hands. A “friend of the family,” she said. Just a buddy from the gym. I’d asked about him more than once, brought it up when his name kept coming up, when I saw his texts. She always brushed it off, made me feel jealous, paranoid, insecure. But then I came home early one night. And I was right.

I remember standing in the doorway, watching the two of them together like I was already invisible. She didn’t even flinch when she saw me. Just pulled the sheet up slowly, like she knew it was over, but didn’t care. That night, something in me broke. I left. And I never heard from her again. Until now.

His tone didn’t change, still gentle, still teasing, but I could feel the smile in it “She invited you, you know. Well, James. The man she cheated on. The one she left behind. But don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy took care of everything.” He moved around to kneel in front of me, lifting my chin so I had no choice but to look him in the eye. “I gave her a call. Told her what had happened. How far you’d come. How you’re not really James anymore… not really a man at all now, are you?” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Told her about my sweet little girl. And do you know what she said?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. “She thought it was adorable. Said she’d love for you to be part of the day.” He smiled, eyes bright with amusement. “And I had the perfect idea.”He stepped over to the wardrobe and unzipped the garment bag with slow, deliberate care, like he was unveiling a royal heirloom. The fabric rustled faintly, soft and layered, and then he turned, holding it up so I could see. It wasn’t just a dress. It was a costume.

Powder-pink from collar to hem, layered with tier after tier of ruffles and lace, so puffy it might as well have been stuffed with air. The bodice was high and snug, with a delicate ruffled yoke and puffed sleeves trimmed in frilly white lace. Two matching satin bows, one at the chest, the other just above the waist, sat like childish punctuation marks against the overwhelming sweetness of it all. “The gloves are over there,” Daddy said calmly, nodding toward the nightstand. “White mesh, with little ribbon cuffs to match your bows.”

I saw them already laid out. Next to them were the shoes, the shoes. Glossy pink dolly flats, each with a small decorative flower on the toe. There were frilled ankle socks too, and even those weren’t spared from detail, lace-trimmed, with soft, girlish cuffs. “You’re going to look perfect, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with approval. “Just like the other flower girls… except taller. And in diapers, of course.” He knelt, dress still in hand, and looked at me, right into me. “This is how they’ll remember you. Not as the man who got left. But as the baby girl who got chosen.”

My heart was racing. I stared at the dress, every frill and puff and ribbon like a punch to the chest. Something in me snapped. “N-No!” I blurted, my voice cracking. “I… I won’th do ith! Thith ith too far!” Daddy’s expression didn’t change, but I could feel Cynthia freeze behind me. “You can’th make me do thith! There’ll be people there,Darla’th parenths, her whole family! They already thought I wath gay, this’ll jusht… thith’ll prove them right!” My fists clenched against the fleece of my nightdress. I could feel my cheeks burning, the panic rising like bile in my throat. “It’sh too embawassing, Daddy, I can’t, I can’t do thith!”

Daddy didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even look angry. He just let out a slow breath and carefully laid the dress across the bed, smooth, deliberate, terrifying. “Jade,” he said, standing tall again, “we’ve talked about tantrums, haven’t we?” I froze. “About what happens when my little girl forgets her place.” My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My chest heaved. He stepped closer, close enough for me to feel the shift in the air. “Now, I’ll give you a choice. You can stand up like a good girl, lift your arms, and let Cynthia get you dressed. Or…” Daddy’s hand hovered near the belt on the vanity stool. “Do you need reminding, little girl?”

My heart was thundering, but I didn’t back down this time. I clenched my fists, voice shaking, high and girlish but filled with defiance. “I…I don’th care about your reminder!” I snapped, tears already prickling behind my eyes. “I’m noth putting thath on and I’m noth going to Darla’sh wedding to thath cheating manwhore Tyrone, leth alone going as a l-little girl!!” The room went still.Daddy’s eyes narrowed, calm gone, replaced by that cold, coiled fury I knew too well. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

He stepped forward. And everything went white. Twenty minutes later. I was sobbing.

The kind of sobs that shake your whole body, the kind that make your nose run and your breath hitch, and your vision blur. Cynthia knelt in front of me with a soft cloth, gently dabbing at my cheeks while I stood there trembling in nothing but my diaper and socks, barely able to keep from collapsing. “There we go,” she whispered soothingly, as if she were calming a toddler after a tantrum. “It’s all right now, sweet girl. Deep breaths.” I hiccupped, nodding weakly as she reached for the dress.

She guided my arms up, sliding the puffed sleeves over my shoulders one at a time, easing the bodice down and smoothing the skirt into place with a practiced hand. The layers rustled around me like tissue paper, frilly, endless, impossibly soft. “There we go,” she cooed. “Such a pretty little flower girl. Just like you were meant to be.”

The gloves came next, snug and dainty with lace bows at the wrists. Then the socks, frilled and girlish. And finally, the pink flats with the little flowers on the toes. She stepped back, hands on my shoulders, and turned me gently toward the mirror. “There,” she said softly. “Look at you, Jade. You’re perfect.” I couldn’t meet my own eyes.

I couldn’t stop crying. Even dressed now, even with every bow tied and every frill in place, it wouldn’t stop. The humiliation felt like it was stitched into the seams of the dress. My legs wobbled, my cheeks were soaked, and everything felt too tight, too sweet, too wrong. And then, without thinking, I turned and wrapped my arms around Cynthia.

I buried my face in her shoulder, trembling, sobbing like a child. Her arms came around me instantly, steady and warm, stroking my back like I was a scared little girl on her first day of school. “P-please, Cyn…” I choked out, barely able to get the words past the lump in my throat. “P-please, M-Mommy… don’th make me do this…” She didn’t interrupt. Just kept stroking my back, nodding along like she was listening, like she cared.

“My life… it’ll be ruined if Darla shees me like thith…” There was a beat. A long, still beat. Then: “Shhh, baby girl…” she whispered. I felt her fingers smooth the skirt of my dress, fixing a bow that hadn’t even come loose. Her tone didn’t change. Not even a little.

“You’re just nervous because you know how special you look. That’s all.” I started to sob again, but she just gently cupped my cheeks and tilted my head upward. “Jade,” she said softly, eyes glowing with praise, “you are the absolute picture of what a flower girl should be. The dress, the hair, the gloves, every inch of you is perfect. You’ll make such a beautiful memory for Darla’s special day.” She smiled. And I broke a little more.

The door opened, and Daddy stepped in. He was fully dressed now, charcoal-gray suit tailored sharp across his broad chest and thick arms, sleeves rolled to just below the elbow, exposing the hint of an inked forearm. His amber-patterned tie was neatly knotted, catching the light like gold filigree. Everything about him radiated authority, control. Finality. He looked at me—really looked at me, standing there in ruffles and bows, and his mouth curved just slightly.

“There she is,” he said, voice rich and low. “My little flower.” Something gave out inside me. It was instant. I felt it as a warm rush in the padding between my legs, soft and silent, soaking through before I even realized it had started. My knees buckled slightly, and my cheeks flushed with fresh, stinging shame. The diaper held, of course, but that didn’t matter. I hadn’t even been told I was allowed. Behind me, Cynthia continued like nothing had happened. “She’s all ready. Hair’s holding nicely, gloves are secure, shoes fitted. She’s perfect.”

I tried to steady my breath, but it came out in trembling little gasps. Then Cynthia’s hand on my back, light but firm. “Y-you’re coming too… righth?” I asked her, barely above a whisper. She shook her head gently. “Not today, sweetheart. I’ve got a shift. It’s just you and Daddy.” My heart sank. He extended his hand. “Let’s go, princess.” I hesitated. Every frill on my dress felt heavier now. Every step crinkled. But I took his hand anyway. Because I knew it was the only choice I had left.

The Bentley was already waiting in the drive when we stepped out, sleek and silver, the body low and predatory, every inch of it polished to perfection. It looked more like something for a high-end bachelor than a man escorting a ruffled flower girl. Daddy didn’t rush. He opened the passenger door with practiced ease, revealing the car’s blood-red interior. The rich leather and carbon trim glinted under the morning light but it wasn’t the trim that made my stomach twist.

It was the seat. Custom-installed. Thickly padded. Covered in soft blue denim-like fabric. The harness straps were already buckled to the frame, the chest vest waiting open like a trap. The headrest was padded on both sides, and between the legs, the wedge-like support stuck up proudly, obscene and unavoidable.

“Up you go, little flower,” Daddy said calmly. I hesitated for a split second, but his hand was already at my back, guiding me in. As I climbed into the car, my dress puffed and flounced uncontrollably, the tiers of satin and lace piling up awkwardly as I sank into the deep seat. The ruffles bunched beneath me, the skirt spreading over the seat like a frosting spill. “Arms in,” he instructed. I obeyed. The chest harness came down over the bodice of my dress with a heavy click, the thick padding pressing against the bows and frills. The vest squashed the front of the dress flat, pinning it to me like armor made of sweetness.

Then came the crotch strap. He reached down, calmly pulling the strap up between my legs and threading it into place, tight, deliberate. It pushed the bulk of my diaper even further against me, mashing the fabric between my thighs, forcing the layers of the dress up around my waist. He didn’t adjust them. He let the ruffles stay flared, ridiculous and exposed, like a child being taken to a pageant in a booster seat made for toddlers twice her age. He tugged the final strap snug, then gave my gloved hand a little pat. “There,” he said, stepping back to admire the sight. “Safe. Secure. And just as precious as you should be.” I couldn’t look at him. The Bentley purred to life, low and smooth, and the door closed with a soft thunk. And we were on our way.

The Bentley rolled into the church car park like a whisper, luxurious, silent, and completely at odds with the frilly disaster strapped into the passenger seat. I felt it before I saw it: the swell of voices, the movement outside. Through the tinted glass, I caught glimpses of guests arriving in waves… families, couples, little kids in dress shirts and pastel dresses, older relatives helping each other out of cars. The lot was filling fast.

Daddy pulled smoothly into a front space and shut the engine off. Then he turned to me. I was already trembling. My dress had ridden up during the drive, ruffles spilling over the edge of the harness like frosting, the diaper puffed and obvious beneath the cinching crotch strap. I wanted to beg again. Plead. But he was already reaching down into the footwell. He came back up with something pink. A pacifier. Not a baby one, this was huge. Bulky. The kind made for silence and shame. The mouthguard was glossy and oversized, shaped like a plush cartoonish flower. The strap that went with it was thick, padded, and utterly inescapable.

“Open up,” he said, calm as ever. I shook my head once. That was all I had time for. A second later, the gag was pressed against my lips. I resisted…barely…but his fingers were already behind my head, buckling the strap tight. The plug forced my jaw open, settling into place with a cruel familiarity, the strap squeezing against my hair. I whimpered through it, cheeks flushed, eyes blurring again.

Then came the cuffs. Padded and pink, they fastened snugly around my wrists and clicked to the integrated rings on the harness belt. Now I couldn’t move my hands. Couldn’t talk. Could barely breathe without hearing the pacifier squeak softly in the gag. Daddy checked the locks. Then smiled “I’ll come back for you in a little while,” he said, brushing my cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Just sit still and look precious.” He stepped out of the car, straightened his suit, and shut the door.

And then he was gone. Outside, the world was in full motion. I could see him walking toward a group near the chapel steps, shaking hands, smiling warmly. He gestured casually back toward the car—toward me. Heads turned. A few gasped. Others laughed outright. One woman put a hand to her mouth. A kid pointed. The crowd grew thicker. The whispers got louder. And I just sat there, gagged, bound, dolled up, and utterly helpless behind the Bentley’s glass. My eyes burned. My legs wouldn’t stop shaking. And Daddy just kept talking. The sun was climbing, and most of the guests had filtered inside. I thought, for one fragile second, that maybe the worst of it was over. That maybe Daddy would just… let me stay in the car.

Then I saw him again. Tyrone, standing at the church entrance in his sharp white tuxedo jacket, black satin lapels catching the light, a bowtie tied with casual perfection. He was laughing with a groomsman, exuding confidence like it was cologne. Daddy reappeared at his side. He leaned in, said something too low to hear, but I saw Tyrone’s smile sharpen. Then his eyes cut toward the Bentley.

I felt it before it happened. Daddy raised a hand, waved him over, and gestured toward me like he was about to unveil a gift. Tyrone strolled toward the car, each step slow, deliberate, like a man walking into a punchline he already knew. He stopped just outside the door, peering through the glass with that same disbelieving grin from earlier, only bigger now. Hungrier.

Tyrone was already grinning when he reached the car, but as Daddy opened the door, that grin cracked wide open into disbelief. He looked me over, gagged, bound, frilled from neck to knee, and laughed loud enough to echo off the church walls. “No f*ing way.”He stepped closer, one hand bracing the roof of the Bentley as he leaned down and took in every humiliating inch of me.

“The dress… the gloves… the gag? You serious right now?” Daddy just smiled. “She’s been such a good girl.” Tyrone let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Man… I knew you were gay, but I didn’t think you were this pathetic.” I whimpered behind the pacifier gag. My cheeks burned hotter than I thought possible, my fingers twitching helplessly in their restraints. My knees squeezed instinctively together under the flared skirt, too late.

The warmth bloomed again. Unstoppable. I peed. Not a flood, just a slow, shameful release, made worse by the soundless way the thick padding absorbed it… soft, squishy, but unmistakable in how my posture shifted. My eyes went wide. My face scrunched. Tyrone didn’t miss it. “Oh my God,” he muttered, then broke into another round of laughter. “Did you just piss yourself again? Bro… you did! You actually just sat there and soaked your little diaper like a scared flower girl.”

He turned to Daddy, howling now. “He’s not even trying to hide it!” Then back to me, shaking his head, mock sympathy painted across his smug face. “Aww. Poor baby. Too much excitement before your big walk down the aisle?” He gave one last snort of laughter and stepped back from the car. “You enjoy the ceremony, sweetheart,” he said with a wink. “I’ll be the one not crapping myself in a dress.”

Then he turned and strutted back toward the church, still laughing. Daddy, calm as ever, reached into the car and gently adjusted the skirt that had bunched from my trembling. He gave the ruffles a soft pat. “Don’t worry, princess,” he murmured. “You’re still going to look perfect for your big moment.” And then he shut the door again. The car door opened with a soft click, and the outside world flooded back in, bright sun, birdsong, the faint murmur of an organ warming up inside the church.

Daddy reached in and unbuckled the chest harness first, then the crotch strap, letting it slide free with a practiced tug. But he didn’t remove the cuffs. Or the gag. Instead, he lifted me out of the car like I weighed nothing, setting me down on the pavement beside him. My legs wobbled in the satin flats, the layers of my dress billowing slightly as the breeze caught the hem. The soaked diaper squished softly with every motion beneath the ruffled skirt. And still, the pacifier gag held firm across my lips.

Daddy adjusted my gloves, gave the bow at my waist one final tug, and then began guiding me toward the church entrance. People watched. Eyes followed us, guests still lingering outside, ushers chatting idly by the door, someone snapping a last-minute photo of the floral arch. I couldn’t meet any of their stares. I just focused on the sound of my footsteps and the awful squeak of my gag with every shallow breath. Inside, the bridal party was already lining up. Bridesmaids in deep violet gowns whispered quietly, giggling over someone’s crooked bouquet ribbon. The ring bearer fidgeted, twirling a velvet pillow in his hands.

And then I saw her. Darla. She stood near the altar doors, radiant in ivory satin and lace. Her dress fit like it had been made by angels, form-fitting through the bodice with a long, flared train behind her and a delicate pearl tiara nestled in her glossy black braid. She looked like a goddess. And when she saw me, her smile curled… not with surprise. With recognition. With triumph. She broke away from the other women and walked straight toward us, heels sharp on the marble floor. “Well, well, well.” Her voice was syrupy sweet. “If it isn’t little Jade.” I flinched. Daddy stood tall beside me, impassive.

She stopped just in front of me, eyes trailing over every inch of my outfit, like she was admiring a trophy. The gloves. The bow. The soaked humiliation in my posture. “Oh my God, it’s actually worse than I pictured,” she laughed, covering her mouth as if stifling embarrassment on my behalf. “You look like something from a failed child pageant. I mean… ruffles? Really?”

I trembled behind the gag. Then her eyes narrowed slightly, and her smile turned sharper. “You know, James…” she said, voice quieter now, aimed only at me. “I remember every mean, hurtful little word you spat at me when you found out about me and Tyrone.” Her tone shifted, mocking, but dark with satisfaction. “Unfaithful. Cheating. Gold-digging. Social-climbing. ‘Wannabe trad-wife whore with no dignity or self-respect’…” She paused, letting the venom soak in. “Yeah. I remember all of it.” She stepped in even closer, her voice just a hiss now. “Now who’s got no dignity or self-respect… huh, JADE?”

My eyes burned. I looked down, but the bow on my chest and the puffed sleeves gave me nowhere to hide. She turned without waiting for a response… because I couldn’t give one. I could barely breathe. As she walked away, the ruffles of her train trailing behind her like royalty, I stood frozen. A pathetic, silenced contradiction of everything I used to be. Then Daddy crouched beside me, loosening the gag strap at last. The pacifier came out with a quiet pop, wet with spit and shame. Next came the cuffs, unfastened one by one.

He adjusted my skirt. Brushed a bit of dust off my bow.

Then he gave me a gentle pat on the back and led me forward… right into position with the other flower girls. I was taller than all of them. Dressed the same, but not the same at all. And I knew, I knew, that every single person in that church would be watching me. And that she would be smiling. I barely had time to recover before one of the younger flower girls, maybe five, maybe six—skipped over to me, clutching a tiny pink tube of lip gloss like it was a royal wand.

“You need more,” she said, matter-of-fact, pointing at my mouth. “Your color’s faded.” I shook my head quickly, trying to keep my voice low. “N-no, ith fine. I don’th need any more—” She narrowed her eyes. “You do.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Unless you want me to go tell your Daddy you were being naughty?”

I froze. She didn’t wait for permission. The next thing I knew, she was carefully smearing the gloss across my lips, her tiny hands annoyingly gentle and confident. I sat perfectly still, blinking back the sting of tears as she worked, like a proud big sister dressing up her dolly. “There,” the little girl said brightly, capping the gloss with a proud smile. “Now you look pretty again.”

She skipped off to rejoin the others, leaving me alone for just a moment, long enough to breathe, long enough to feel the cold silence settle around me again. I didn’t get to sit with the other flower girls. I didn’t belong with them. I was just next to them. A dressed-up humiliation in the middle of someone else’s fantasy. Then one of the bridesmaids stepped forward and gently handed me a small white basket, light and lacy, filled with pink and white rose petals. The satin handle curled neatly into my gloved hands.

That’s when I heard the music start.The doors creaked slightly, just enough to let the opening notes of the bridal procession drift into the hallway. The crowd beyond stirred, expectant. The aisle waited. I felt her behind me before I saw her. Darla. She leaned down, her veil brushing against my puffed sleeve, her voice a sugar-coated blade in my ear.

“Can’t wait to see what Mom and Dad think of gay little James,” she whispered, “the weak little wimp they always suspected you were… now all dolled up for everyone to see~” I didn’t move. I couldn’t. And then the doors opened wide.

#permanent feminization #forced ferminization #crossdresser #loser humiliation #pathetic loser #sissy crossdresser #feminized sissy #sissy domination #daddy diaper sissy #diaper sissy

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soloroomies · 1 year ago

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lifemate (Chapter 4/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: talking about the details of your arrangement with Kiyoomi word count. 2.4k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, suggestive a/n. it's here!! the marriage is happening!!(＞0＜；；；) Masterlist

When you step inside your apartment, your heart starts to pound hard. The full realization dawns on you quickly. The fuck. You can't be like this. You fan your face, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. You kind of feel like screaming. “You can't be like this,” you repeat the words loudly to yourself.

Why do you feel this way, though? You despise yourself for it. Maybe the idea of tying the knot with someone is really getting to you. You walk to your kitchen and gulp down some cold water to hydrate your throat. You need to be logical about this. Gosh, you need your best friend, Tami, right now. But she’s probably asleep already; it’s almost 1 am. So, you send some urgent texts to her, telling her that you’ll meet Sakusa tomorrow. You also send her a message that says something like, “The marriage plan is happening!! I’m gonna make a list of things that I need to discuss w him. Please give me ideas for some important topics!:( Love u.” You know your best friend can at least give you some pointers, especially since she's been married for four years.

You start to clean yourself up, changing your clothes, removing your makeup, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing a quick skincare routine. Now that you’re more comfortable, you might think more clearly. You check the time on your phone and lie down on your bed. Okay. You’ll make a few points yourself first.

You try to think hard, but nothing substantial comes up. So, you search for it on Google. You click on some articles and jot down notes in your notes app. You can't write much because you find some topics aren't relatable to your situation. Some of them are too real couple things. For example: "How to spend the right time together?" or "What happens if you feel like you’re drifting apart?" type of questions. That’s totally not relatable, right? A few topics that you’ve written down are: finances (how will you split the bill?), where you will live, personal space, and how you will divide the chores. Before you know it, your eyes start to close as you drift off to sleep.

When you wake up, it's because of the constant vibration from your phone. You check it and see that it’s still around 7 am. The vibration is from Tami’s texts. You quickly check her responses.

She lists a few topics, some of which are already written in your notes app. Then, there are some you haven't listed before:

1. Who is allowed to know about this pact? Damn, she’s right. You'll need to create your version of a love story either way.

2. How would this marriage be? Can each of you date other people, or do you want to be exclusive? Oh. Right. You’ve thought about this before, too. This is important.

3. The wedding. How big should it be? Yup, you still need to talk about this.

4. Physical intimacy? (P.S. Please talk about this, girl! You’re stupid if you’re not getting that dick)

You roll your eyes. This is so her. But then you start to reflect on yourself. Sex? Of course, you're no virgin. You’re sure he’s not either. But, to be honest, you can’t really remember the last time you had sex. Damn! You think it was years ago with your last situationship. Yes, you’ve had your share of one-night stands, but that was in your early 20s. You just know that those kinds of activities are not that safe. Not that you judge anyone who does it, but for you, you usually do it with someone you trust pretty well. And there aren't a lot of men that you can trust to do that. Plus, the act is often disappointing. So, sex isn’t your top priority nowadays. Yes, you have your needs, but you could always take care of yourself. So far, so good. It’s manageable. You’re not sure how to bring this topic up to Kiyoomi, though. It feels wrong too to imagine stuff like that with him. You huff. You won't bring this up.

5. Children? Hmm, you haven’t really thought about this topic.

Do you want children? Yes, you do, but it's not like you really want them. You guess it’s just because of an image of a perfect family you had in your head since you were little. This discussion will also complicate some financial topics. And you don’t know whether Kiyoomi wants children or not. So, you might skip this part. This is not something you considered when agreeing to this anyway.

6. Deal breakers? You can’t really think of what this would relate to in your relationship right now. Since there’s no romance involved, right? You might as well skip this part.

You type your thanks profusely to Tami and then start your Sunday morning by snacking on your energy bar. You'll have your breakfast with Sakusa. Then, you take a shower and get ready. After you finish getting ready, you check your phone and see some messages from Sakusa saying he’s on his way to your apartment. His trip to your place usually takes about 20 minutes. So, you sit on your couch and continue watching the series you haven’t finished.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrates. It's a text from Sakusa saying he’s arrived. You quickly respond and make your way downstairs. Spotting his car, you knock on the passenger seat window. He opens the door, and you slide in.

"Hey," you greet him.

"Hey," he replies. "Where do you want to eat?"

You suggest a restaurant not too far from your apartment that serves good avocado toast and truffle mushroom benedict. He agrees and starts to drive there.

As he drives, you take a moment to look at him. He's wearing a dark green corduroy jacket over a white shirt and black shorts. He’s not wearing his mask, but you notice the mask box between your seats. He smells good, a pleasant combination of his shampoo, soap, and cologne. He always smells good, you realize.

The car ride is quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that feels natural rather than awkward. As you approach the restaurant, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness about the conversation that awaits.

As soon as you arrive, both of you order avocado toast and coffee. You finish your breakfast first, then you start the discussion. “So? Where do we start from here? Do you have anything in mind?” you ask.

Sakusa nods. “I do. Do you?”

“Yes,” you reply. Then you start to run through your list. For the financial topics, Sakusa insists on paying all the bills related to your living place: housing, electricity, and water. But you're confused. “Then, what should I pay for?” you ask.

“Some of the groceries, I guess.” Sakusa replies.

“What? No. I can’t. At least let me pay for the water or something, too?” you protest.

“Please. Just let me pay for that,” he insists.

You have never seen him plead before, but seeing his face now, you think this might be as close to pleading as he gets. “I’ve told you, you can leave some of your jobs if you’d like. It’s better for your health, too, I guess…” you can hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You're silent for a moment but then accept his offer, albeit reluctantly. Maybe you should try to relax a bit more. Isn't that one of the perks of this marriage pact? You then move to the next part, which is the living place. He suggests you move into his apartment, and you think it's more reasonable since he has three rooms in his apartment, allowing you to have one as your own room.

“How about personal space?” you ask.

“What about it?” Sakusa responds.

“Do you have a room or place that you won’t allow other people, like me, to enter?”

He’s silent for a bit. “My room.”

You nod your head. You’re no stranger to his need for personal space. In fact, you remember some of his past girlfriends complaining about it. He's the type of person who’s quite rigid about his boundaries. You'll try your best not to cross any of them. You express this concern to him, asking him to please let you know if you ever step over any boundaries. He answers with a simple "okay."

Next, you start to discuss the chores. You both conclude that he’ll be the one who cleans around the house, and you offer to be the chef. You’re not the best cook, but you’re also not bad. You'll do this since you'll have more spare time after letting go of some of your side jobs. Laundry will be done alternately each week.

Then, you start to discuss the topic list that Tami has given you. You both agree that the only ones who will know about this pact are the two of you, Komori, and Tami. You already told him that you shared this with her, and he’s understanding about that. He tells you that he already informed Komori about this plan as well. You’re a bit surprised, wondering whether Komori has known since the New Year party or before that. If he knew, he seemed nonchalant about it. But, he will definitely tease you about this.

The love story for both of you will be simple. You know each other since high school, secretly liked each other, and have been secretly dating for a year before deciding to get married. That’s just perfect. Your parents also know each other, and your mom has teased you about him before. Quite early in your friendship, even though you clearly stated to her that you considered him just a friend. Well, she might be quite shocked and cocky, having her “I told you so” moment upon hearing this wedding news. It’s okay; you’ll just have to deal with it for a bit.

You then mention the wedding and tell him that you actually want to have an intimate one. He agrees and chimes in that he needs to inform his manager as well since there will likely be some media coverage for an athlete's wedding. You nod, remembering Komori’s wedding. You hope there will be no big commotion from the public. You know he has some persistent fangirls and just hope they won’t give you threats or anything. Fingers crossed, you sigh. This is for Kiyoomi’s benefit too. You remember he always says he struggles with rejecting gifts and random confessions; maybe this marriage will reduce those kinds of things.

“How would this marriage be? Can each of us date another person, or do we want to be exclusive?” you read from your notes. He stares at you. “I think it’s up to you.”

You nod at his statement, understanding that it’s also up to him. It’s reasonable. Why would this marriage stop him from getting any girl he wants? You don’t know much about his hook-up activities, never inquiring about them either. He’s very private about that. You sigh mentally, feeling a tinge of insecurity, which you think is stupid. You can’t be unfair to him. “Yeah, let’s just be careful about it. We can’t let people know, though. It’ll look bad on us,” you respond, staring down at your phone.

You don’t hear his response and see the notes on your app, deciding to skip some of the topics that you're not sure how to bring up. “Is there anything you want to add?” you ask him.

“Will you take my family name?” he asks.

You think for a moment and nod. “I will.” Then, you start to repeat your name with ‘Sakusa’ in front of it in your head. You kind of want to laugh, thinking that you used to call him by his family name during your early years of friendship. Now, that name will be yours too.

After that, you delve into detailing the aspects of your wedding. You had stated earlier that you wanted an intimate ceremony, so you emphasize making the wedding small and estimating the budget, aiming to keep it as economical as possible and split it 50/50. Sakusa interjects again, insisting he’ll just pay it all. You don’t mind the budget since it’s much cheaper compared to what some of your friends usually spend. You also have enough savings for it. After a bit of disagreement, you settle on an 80/20 split.

Your wedding will be held in mid-February with a garden party theme, which you suggest. All the preparations will be handled by a wedding organizer that you both found together. Sakusa is actually very cooperative, offering to contact the wedding organizer and jotting down some of the information you discuss together on his phone’s notes. You thought he’d be bored with such detailed discussions, but he had even done a lot of research beforehand and gave you insights about the wedding experiences of his relatives and friends. You heard from some of your friends that their partners didn’t really put in the effort and handed it all over to the woman. So, you’re very glad he’s not like that. After all, marriage takes two people to make it work.

You both then decide that everything sounds good and finalize the plans. As you’re about to stand up, he suddenly grabs your hand. You look at him and see him hesitating a bit.

“What? Is there something wrong?” you ask.

He then pulls you down, prompting you to sit again beside him. You stare at him curiously as his hand moves inside his jacket pocket, taking out something. It’s a box. A ring box! You realize, flabbergasted by his action. Your mouth falls open.

“Wait, wait. What?” you stammer, staring at the navy velvet ring box.

He proceeds to open it, showing a silver ring. You notice that the ring features a row of detailed Forget-Me-Not flowers running into delicate leaves on either side of the band. You’re totally speechless. You didn’t expect him to give you a ring right now. You thought you could just buy some matching rings together that simply show “Yeah, we’re married.” But this ring in front of you looks expensive as hell.

“I know this kind of marriage is something you never expected. I know this is not something you dreamed of either. But let me make this a bit proper. I want you to have this,” Sakusa says.

You feel like crying, touched by his sentiment. He then slides the ring onto your finger, and you can’t help but thank him and hug him, driven by your emotions. You widen your eyes, taken aback, and mumble a quick apology, afraid that you’ve invaded his personal space or something. But he hugs you back.

It seems like this marriage pact isn’t so bad, after all.

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pucksalotguys · 5 months ago

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Illicit Affairs

Hi, hello, how are ya ?

Well not much I can say other than buckle up and enjoy. If you’re not okay with cheating, smut and flawed characters who can get annoying then this is not the fic for you. But if you’re a fan of all of that…..welcome ! Here’s chapter 1 of something that literally just came to my brain a few days ago. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think 💙

Summer 2024

If walls could talk they’d spill about everything Layla and Nate in that hotel room. It was the most exhilarating feeling she had ever felt yet she knew it would soon be short lived so rather than think about that she got up and put herself together. Nate had a rather complex reputation, he was a bit brash sometimes rude but deep down she knew he had his reasons and she wasn’t one to question them

The next steps were the usual, she showered and did her hair and took a seat by the bathroom mirror to begin her makeup. When she looked down at her breasts she let out a small sigh. They had bite marks and purple forming hickies forming around them already. At this point she knew the routine so well she could do it in her sleep.

She reached inside her makeup bag and began applying color corrector first then concealer on top and setting it with some makeup setting spray. When she looked at her wrist holding her brush she could feel the soreness from how tight he was holding both of them in his hand behind her back. The same hand that been placed tightly around her neck as he put her through the mattress just a few hours ago

The same hand that had made its way through every crevice of her body that made her squirm just thinking about it. If there was one thing Nate knew how to do besides play hockey it was fucking. If only everyone knew just how talented he was in the bedroom. She shook off the thoughts of going for a 4th round and fixed her hair and reapplied her makeup perfectly. After she was done she walked back over to the bedroom and looked for her dress “Leaving already ?” Nate’s groggy voice interrupted “Hand them over Nathan” Layla rolled her eyes “What are you talking about ?” he rubbed his eyes

She sighed and crossed her arms “Where are my panties ?”

“Oh” he smirked “You mean this”, he held up a black laced g-string “I wanted to keep it, you always leave me a souvenir”

“I can’t go to lunch pantiless you creep” she walked over and attempted to snatch them back, meeting his eyes when he gently brought her down to his level “I showered and my hair and makeup is done. I gotta go, I came early for you but now I need to go”

“Lunch isn’t for another hour” he murmured against her lips “You’re wearing that gloss I like, the one that tastes like berries” She kissed him softly and put a hand to his chest “Don’t do that, it doesn’t work well for you” “I just want a little more time with you” Nate whispered as he moved his hand up her thigh and placed it between her legs “Stay…please, I’ll beg like a good boy if you need me to” he reached up and kissed her neck Every part of her was telling her to get up and go but when it came to him, she was putty in his hands and he knew that “I need to leave, you know if I could I’d stay with you all day”

“I can arrange that” Nate smirked “You take care of what you need to and let me know and we’ll settle the day” Layla smirked “You sound so convinced” “Have I ever let you down ?” he raised his brow She shook her head “Not yet” “I won’t, ever” Nate kissed her again “I think I’ve done a well enough job of proving that to you these past 3 years Layla, I’d move mountains for you babe” Rather than object she simply stood up and changed back into the Herve Leger dress she had arrived in and put her heels back on. After a quick check in the mirror she took her purse and looked over her hands, her wedding ring was missing. She panicked for a moment and looked around, soon getting on her knees and checking the floor “Looking for this” Nate held the 15 carat cushion cut diamond ring as he sat up in bed “It’s fucking huge, how could you lose it ?” “I didn’t lose it” Layla walked over and snatched it from his hand “I just….I didn’t realize I left it on the nightstand…but anyways, I gotta go” “Text me” he looked at her

“Nate, not tonight okay ?” she reminded him, giving herself one last look in the mirror “You could send me some hot videos again if you can’t text” he grinned “Wear that lace thing and play with yourself for a bit, the red one not the pink one” She bit her lip as the memories flooded back to her mind, it was a bit risky but she loved the high she got from it. She’d lock the door of her bathroom at home and send him videos or pictures of herself in lingerie or sometimes even naked. She loved how desired he made her feel “I’ll see okay ? Do I get anything in return ?” Layla flirted

“After all I did today ? No” he chuckled “Let’s see, I ate you out till you came all over my face, fucked you until you body went limp and sucked on your tits till they got purple. I did YOU favors babe, it’s my turn for something” “You have such a way with words you know ? What would I ever do without that sweet mouth of yours” she walked over and kissed him one last time “Be good okay ?”

“Only for you” Nate responded with a wink

With that she walked out the door and took the emergency stairs all the way down to the lobby where she made sure no one was around as she slipped out the emergency door quietly and slid her wedding ring back on her finger. She walked over to the hotel restaurant and checked in with the hostess who sat her down almost immediately, a perk that had its benefits “Lovely day isn’t it ?” Layla smiled at the waitress “It’s beautiful out and I must say you are glowing” the waitress grinned at her “What will it be today Miss ?”

“One shrimp cocktail with extra horseradish sauce and 3 lemons along with an order of oysters and an old fashioned for him and then I’ll take a nicoise salad and sparkling water please” Layla handed back the menu “Oh there’s my husband now, right on time”

“Mr. Crosby how lovely to see you again” the waitress smiled “Your wife here just finished ordering, I’ll be right back with your drinks” Layla eyed him and stood up, walking over and kissing his cheek “How was golf with the boy's baby ?” “I missed you the whole time” Sidney leaned down and kissed her “You didn’t answer my text this morning honey, you left before I did” “I had to drop the boys off at summer camp a little earlier today, remember ?” she brought up “Poor little Troy had the hardest time, he just wants to constantly be with me, it’s adorable”

“Because you’re the best mommy there is” Sidney caressed her cheek “Not to mention the sexiest, look at you…god I love when you wear this dress. You dropped the boys off to summer camp like this ?” Layla laughed uncomfortably “Well you know, gotta make a first impression” Sidney grinned “Honey, I’m just teasing you. How often will the boys be gone ?” “Only Mondays and Thursdays from 8 to 1, 2 days should be enough more them” she nodded “I still can’t believe we have 3 under 3” he chuckled as their drinks were brought to them “You’re like superwoman you know ? ” The comment should’ve made her feel good but instead it just reminded Layla that she was a 28 year old married woman who had 3 sons under 3 years old and was married to Canada’s prince all while having an affair with his best friend for over 3 years. It was that damn number that haunted her, it was a reminder of how long she had been lying to him and quite frankly she didn’t know when it’d stop “You okay ?” Sidney put his hand on top of hers bringing her back to reality “Of course” she gave the best fake smile she could “I just missed you is all, I hate being away from you”

“What do you say we finish here…then head upstairs to a suite I got for us and see if maybe we can have some alone time ?” Sex. The one thing she dreaded with Sidney the most and it wasn’t because it was bad per say but it also wasn’t the best. It was just repetitive, to be quite honest she didn’t even know how she was able to get pregnant so often considering she just had to lay there. There was no passion, there was no lust…it was always just him holding her hips and her on her back taking his thrusts until he finally finished with a loud grunt. She always had to finish herself off while he was too busy trying to breathe normally again from their 4 minute “love making” Maybe it was the flashbacks to just a mere few hours earlier when Nathan was pounding the life out of her or just the guilt she felt from that but she knew she’d oblige either way. He was Sidney after all and she was just Layla Martin Crosby, his younger wife who had the pristine reputation alongside him who just so happened to also be sleeping with his best friend. There were two sides of her and it was time for the dedicated wife to come out *****************************************

“I love when I get to have you like this” Sidney panted as he held her hips “Fuck you feel so good” Layla bit down on her lip as she arched against him trying her best to get any kind of friction, a big difference to how she was feeling a few hours earlier. She closed her eyes and moved her hand down to rub her clit as she took herself back to that “Shit, shit shit ! Nate slow down, slow down !” she panted, gripping his back tightly “Please slow down” “You want me to slow down ?” Nate pulled out and teased her entrance with his tip “You want it slow like this…” he teased “More…more” she whimpered, reaching for his cock with her trembling hand and attempted to guide it back inside of her “Nuh uh” he removed her hand and stopped “You said slow, so I’ll go slow” Layla shook her head quickly “I’m sorry….I need it” “You need what ? Tell me what you need….” Nate moved his hand and pinched her clit in between his fingers She yelped at the sensation and moved against his hand “I-I need your c-cock i-inside o-of m-me” “Good girl” he kissed as he slammed back inside of her “Take me like I know you can now, I’m gonna make you cum over and over again”

“Oh fuck” she moaned as she opened her eyes

“I want you on top” Sidney panted as he pulled out “Wh-What ?” she breathed out “I was so close” “Ride me please” he kissed her and laid down “Be a good girl for me princess” Dirty talk was not Sidney’s forte at all, the words coming out of his mouth made Layla cringe slightly on the inside yet she did as told, as she usually did with him. She stroked him a few times and guided him inside of her as she began to ride him, slowly exactly like he liked it “Just like that” Sidney leaned his head against his pillow and closed his eyes

She scoffed upon seeing him and picked up the pace, soon she bounced on him slightly and could feel herself near that edge and grinded on him even faster “Oh fuck, oh fuck”, it all came to an end as soon as she felt him finish inside of her and suddenly that high was all gone “Holy shit you’re fucking amazing” Sidney panted and smiled “Fuck baby, you’re so good”

Her face must’ve given away how she was feeling when suddenly the light bulb went on in his head “You didn’t cum did you ? I’ll finish you off don’t worry” he kissed

Before she could even say anything she watched as he spat on his two fingers to lubricate them and inserted them inside of her, curving them slightly. She moaned softly and gave in to the feeling “More, more please”

“Shh you’re almost there” he quickened the pace “Come on I know you want to, just let go”

“I need more” Layla whined “Just…just add another”

He didn’t add another like she wanted instead he went the cheap way and just rubbed her clit furiously until finally she had somewhat of an orgasm and collapsed on his chest breathing heavily

“I love you” he leaned down and kissed her hair

“Me too” Layla whispered

They laid together a little longer and while he opted to shower she just changed, she didn’t sweat like he had despite doing all the work and more than anything she wanted out of that hotel room.

She checked her phone for any messages and as per usual there was one from Nate with a video attached, her face reddening in shock as she watched the video on mute of him fucking her

“Delete it NOW” she sent “You’ve sent me videos of you fucking yourself with a vibrator till your eyes roll back while your husband and children are asleep but I can’t take a little keepsake video ? You knew I was recording” he sent back Layla shook her head, she was too horny in the moment to say no to him. She had always wanted to make a video of some sort, she had begged Sidney every anniversary to do one on an old video camera but he’d just call her crazy. She found it erotic and sexy so when Nate said he wanted to video them with a camera she agreed “Nate it better stay with you and you only, got it ?” she quickly sent to him “It’s all for me baby, I’ll watch it tonight when I’m thinking of you and the way your mouth does that thing when you’re about to cum” he texted her She crossed her legs tightly to ignore the throb in her core and deleted the messages, something she always did when it came to them texting. Like a good wife she waited for Sidney to come out of the shower and walked out with him back to valet where she drove off to pick up the boys at their summer camp while he went off to his afternoon training with Andy Layla knew she was living a double life, one that would soon catch up to her but for now she knew what she wanted and needed “Your place, 2 am….I’ll sneak over” she sent “I’ll be waiting” Nate texted back almost instantly

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby fanfiction #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fanfiction #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction

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ghostchems · 2 years ago

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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part three

art by the insanely talented @stainedlilac!

author’s note: sorry for the delay but i've been tinkering with this for a few months! i get married in a week so this is my wedding gift to you all. it's here and he's stoney-baloneyed and hot and bad and our poor reader is falling right into his trap. we got some defiling of a scarf this chapter. it's about 4.1k words. part one here, part two here. ao3 linky.

“She’s not even listening!”

Your eyes blink into focus on Catherine who is laughing. You groan and lovingly give her a dirty look.

“It’s Friday, let me zone out if I want to.” You slouch in your seat and twirl your glass in your hands. What had they been talking about? You try to remember but they are right — you absolutely have not been listening and you do feel bad about it. It’s been harder to make plans ever since you started your new job, despite the normal hours. Most nights you come home exhausted but also strangely excited for the next day to start. This is the first time you’ve seen your friends since and you should at least try to pay attention.

“Okay, okay I guess zoning out is okay. I guess you can’t do too much of that at your new job?” Erica chimes in and leans over the table closer to you. “I feel like whenever we didn’t have calls we would always have these zone out staring contests.”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And then we would realize that we’ve been staring at each other for a weird amount of time.” You give a soft laugh. You do miss working with Erica but you don’t miss the job. Catherine starts to chime in about how she barely has any time to zone out as a teacher and your mind starts to drift again, having heard this kind of talk from her so many times before.

You think about what happened today. There have been situations over the last few weeks that made you ache in ways you know you shouldn’t for your boss but today might have been the most intense one yet.

You can’t stop thinking about it.

***

You walk into the den and immediately smell the strong aroma of marijuana which means that you are getting goofy Terzo. There is still some hesitation in your steps, not wanting to bother him especially since from what you can see he is in the middle of watching something. You take a few moments to scan over the den. In the corner of the room is a wooden bar with a fancy cabinet behind it filled with fancy liquors and crystal glasses. You’re surprised by how stylish this room is compared to the rest but then again, the lights are off.

Terzo is snuggled up on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts, his body draped across the couch entwined in a blanket. Your gaze drifts to the television and you gasp, giving up your position in the room. Terzo’s eyes immediately find you and he gives you a sleepy, sideways grin. His makeup is smudged which is common but it looks particularly messed up around his eyes. He’s been wanting you to come in here to see him, his mind wandering from the television every so often to think what would happen if you did — and now you’re here.

“Ah, toppolino! Come, have a seat.” He slinks into the corner of the couch, offering you the space next to him as he gives it a few pat, heavy-lidded eyes giving you a flirty look. You swallow thickly, hesitating for what feels like an eternity before you relent, your feet feeling heavy as you walk over to the couch. You take a seat where he gestured and he’s quick to offer you the half-lit joint between his fingers, his shoulder leaning against yours as he quirks a brow. A breath catches in your throat — you’ve worked for him for weeks now and he always offered but something always held you back from accepting.

Not today.

You take a deep, long drag as he holds the lighter to the joint, his eyes never leaving your face. It burns but you don’t cough, perhaps trying a bit too hard not to. Terzo is so pleased, his smile only widening as he watches you inhale and exhale the weed. He feels a rush from you finally giving into this temptation, having tried to lure you in since you started. You don’t know that he’s been eagerly awaiting you to accept because he saw it as another step closer to doing what he wants with you. He’s slowly trying to wear away at your boundaries, especially after your reaction to him raising his voice to you. Terzo knew he could get you to play along.

You feel him relax next to you, leaning in to rest his head on your shoulder as he turns his attention back to the television. Your eyes stay trained on the floor for a long moment, caught off guard by him. A blush rises to your cheeks. You choose not to think too hard about it and end up being your gaze up to focus on the footage playing.

“I didn’t think you were in an acoustic band.” You say after a long moment of silence, becoming distracted by the video. It’s of him, dressed in the clothes you’ve grown so used to seeing in photos, performing to a small crowd of people, flanked by two men in masks. Terzo laughs, deep and full, and it makes you smile. He doesn’t laugh like that often.

“I am a man of many talents, puffetta. This was to give the public a little taste of myself and the new album. We did a handful of these acoustic shows.” He picks up some blanket and smoothes it over your lap, heat rising through your chest up to your cheeks as his hand lingers in your lap for a moment. He notices. He always notices. Fingers lightly drift up the top of your thigh before he gently takes your hand in his. Your breath catches in your throat. Terzo’s touch is so soft, his hands feeling like butter as he places your own in his lap.

“You have a very nice singing voice.” Your voice comes out quiet like a house, almost shy about complimenting him on his talents. But in truth, it draws you in like a siren song. The way he moves his body, using his hands to accentuate the lyrics, and the deep eye contact with the camera and those in the crowd, is all but an act of seduction. You almost catch yourself swooning at the way he croons before remembering that he is sitting right beside you on the couch, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand that’s currently in his lap. The weed is hitting and you find yourself staring at the way his thumb moves, the way it feels against your skin, your eyes hazy and your cheeks starting to burn.

“Grazie a mile. I see you like my dance moves too, eh?” He nudges you playfully and you giggle. Giggle! The weed is hitting. You are comfortable next to him, eyes hazy as your attention shifts from him to the videos and then back to him every so often. The more you look at him the more you notice how the brightness of his face starts to fade until his lips are pressed into a straight line. Maybe it’s difficult for him to watch this, his glory days, which seem to be such a thing of the past for some reason.

“Have you thought about getting the band back together? Or doing some solo shows or something? You look like you belong on the stage.”

“It doesn’t work like that, toppolino. My time was up and that was that.” He gives a sigh, shaking his head. There’s genuine sadness in his voice. You don’t understand how it could be so difficult for him to perform again but you choose not to pry. If he wants to talk about it, he would and his short response tells you all that you need to know. Silence passes between the two of you and Terzo lets go of your hand only to curl both of his arms around your waist. You rest your own hands on your stomach and he places his own on top of yours, fingers stroking gently at your wrists. It’s like he knows every way to take your breath away.

Terzo slips his shoulder behind your back, his chest pressing against you and he rests his head on your own shoulder. The two of you continue watching in comfortable silence, his wonderful singing voice filling your ears, his quips and jokes making you giggle. You feel moved by his former self and you feel… bad for him. You never had before but now, seeing how much he thrived in front of a crowd, how at ease he was and how their energy fed him compared to him living completely alone in a giant house makes your heart feel heavy in your chest. It doesn’t last too long, though, his deft touch and the way his exhales tickle your neck clouding your mind along with the weed.

Even with the slightly uncomfortable topic of conversation, Terzo is buzzing. It is taking all of his self control not to pull you into his lap and slip his hands between your legs, to feel if you are as aroused as he is right now. He wants to taste you. He wants to make you whine, to make tears stream down your face from how good he makes you feel, to hear his name dangling off your lips while you are completely at his mercy. Terzo grits his teeth as he holds himself back, trying to revel in the moment without pushing too far.

You start to feel hot. Tension building inside of you that is making it hard to focus on the video. You become all too aware of the way you’re breathing, chest rising and falling with each deep intake of air. Your head starts to feel heavy and you lean back, further pressing your back against Terzo’s chest. He makes a quiet, surprised groan, his hands squeezing your wrists tighter. Your cheeks flush and you feel a familiar throb between your thighs, shifting your body to try and stifle it but it just makes you press even further into him. It feels like something is about to snap inside, a bad decision about to happen even though it’s all you want right now until —

ZAP!

You swear you see a flash of green and then there’s a sharp pain on one of your wrists. A surprised yelp spills out of you and you quickly snatch your hand from his grip. Terzo moves impossibly fast, somehow already on his knees in front of you, your delicate wrist already in his hand.

“Oh no, have I hurt you?” He sounds sick with worry, his fingers lightly brushing over the spot.

“Just a shock. It’s all—“

“Non muoverti, prendo del ghiaccio.” Terzo murmurs and climbs quickly to his feet, leaving you alone in the room as videos of him play on the tv. You have no idea what he said. You run the pad of your thumb lightly over your wrist, reaching the mark only for it to sting from your touch. He’s back and on his knees before you again, already having your wrist in hand as he presses an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel to it. His sleepy, black locks fall into his face as he looks up at you. You watch as he stays focused on you and your reactions while he knits his brows, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Care is written all over his face.

It makes you feel wanted.

“I am so sorry, toppolino.” His voice cracks as his eyes drop down to your wrist. He wants to kiss it better so badly. How could he have done that to you? What even was that? Terzo’s mind flickers back to how you felt against him, how warm you were in his arms. He feels a pang of anger for having that moment ripped from him. You reach out and lightly tousle his hair.

“Don’t worry.” You smile shyly and pull the ice cube from his hand so that you can hold it yourself. “I should check how the landscaper is doing.” You almost feel guilty for leaving him but you’re a teensy bit too high to handle the intensity that is radiating off of him. Terzo nods slowly but he still stays kneeling in front of you as you stand. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. You reach out and ruffle his hair as another reassurance but you can’t help but get caught up feeling how soft it is beneath your fingers before leaving the room.

Terzo stays on his knees and presses his face against the cushion of the couch after you’ve gone. Your scent lingers on the blanket. He groans quietly and digs his hands into it, bringing it up to his face. He was so close. So close. Terzo could almost taste you.

How much longer could he wait?

***

“New job is taking up a lot of your time, huh?” Erica asks as you eye your drink, contemplating if you should have another. There’s judgment in her voice but you ignore it, chalking it up to her being maybe a little bit jealous that you’ve escaped the call center.

“Oh, definitely. He’s kind of a mess.” You smile and end up sliding your drink to the center of the table, deciding you’re finished for the night. It is Friday but you still have to drive home and you’re not trying to stay out for longer than you have to. “Rich, though. And also loves weed.”

“He sounds perfect. Maybe you found yourself a sugar daddy.” Catherine speaks up and you find your cheeks flushing red. It’s not the first time you’ve thought of Terzo as daddy.

“He’s already paying me a lot.” You give a shrug, attempting to push the thought of how he had yelled at you, his anger making your core ache for him in a way you’ve never felt before. “But maybe — I might be open to it.” They both giggle. Your mind starts to wander, thinking about what he might be doing now.

Terzo clocked the scarf you removed from your neck that morning. It’s a deep red with a black floral design and a silky texture. You left it on the entryway table and when you left for the day you didn’t notice that it was gone. In fact, you completely forgot all about it. Terzo had grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket before scurrying up the stairs to hide it away in his bedroom. Now, he is laying in bed with it in his hands, feeling the soft satin against his fingers. Maybe he would keep it forever, hidden away in a drawer in his room for him to use when he is missing you. Maybe he’d start a collection of your things.

He hums quietly, tilting his head back against one of his pillows as he brings the scarf to his face. Terzo takes a deep inhale, breathing in your scent and then giving a rumbling moan. He was so close to having you today. He could see it in your eyes how badly you wanted him and then he ruined it. Terzo pulls the scarf from his face, dragging it down his chest before settling it against his shorts. His cock is already bulging and throbbing underneath the fabric just from your scent and reminiscing about earlier in the day. He is certain that the seed is planted, all it needs to do now is take root and grow.

But it would have been so easy to take you today. He could have moved his hand closer and closer to that spot between your legs, lightly drifting his fingers along the seams until you couldn’t take it anymore, begging for him to go just a bit further. You would have spread your legs wide from him as his hand slipped down your pants, toying with the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck.” Terzo’s hips jerk from the scene he has come up with in his mind, pressing your scarf more firmly against his bulge. His thoughts are a blur now, jumping ahead in his little fantasy to think about how your tight little cunt might feel around his pulsing cock. Terzo would keep you in his lap, hands firm on your hips as he pushes in as deep as he possibly could. He imagines what you might sound like, soft little sounds spilling from your lips while you take him. And then, he would stay still and make you squirm, make you beg for him to move his hips, to take you and –

A growl catches in his throat as he makes a mess in his shorts, his hips stuttering and his free hand fisting into the covers. Terzo could never finish out his fantasies of you, always reaching the point of no return before any real action could be thought up. His chest rises and falls, giving strangled breaths as he closes his eyes. How long would he last when he finally fucks you? His lips curl into a small smile at the thought – even if he cums early he would make sure to play with you until you're a whimpering mess. He sits up in bed and lifts the scarf to examine the damage: if there are any cum stains on it. None that he could see. He hums in satisfaction, dropping the scarf back in his lap but his gaze stays fixed on it.

An idea crosses his mind.

You’re about to ask for the check when your phone lights up. A frown crosses your face as you focus on the message preview.

You left your scarf. Come get it. Now.

“What is it?” The concern in Erica’s voice snaps you out of your trance. The color has drained from your face, anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach from his tone. You left your scarf and Terzo sounds pissed about it. Is he in one of his moods? He has hardly ever texted you nor has he asked you to come by after hours before. You suck in a deep breath and grab your phone, slipping it into your coat pocket.

“Duty calls.” You offer a weak smile, your heart pounding in your ears. “Everything’s fine. Uh, just shoot me a venmo request for what I owe for dinner, alright?” Before they get a chance to respond you’re walking away from the table, brisk steps as your breathing starts to speed up. You can’t help but feel like you’re in trouble even though you don’t know how leaving a scarf could be a punishable offense. Your brain typically jumps to the worst possible conclusion, especially when your boss is the one aggressively texting you at 7:30pm on a Friday evening.

“Hey! Wait!” Catherine is chasing after you, nearly out of breath. You blink and realize you’re already at your car door, your feet having taken you where you needed to go while your mind raced.

“I said you could shoot me a Venmo request—“

“No, no, this isn’t about that. I promised my brother I would ask you-“

“Dylan?”

“Y-yeah, he’s been asking about you. A lot. He wanted me to ask if you were interested in getting dinner with him sometime.” Catherine is nearly out of breath as she rattles the question off to you. To say you are frazzled is an understatement. You’ve had a crush on Dylan since you were a kid and even though so much time has passed since then, the two of you having grown up, you still had a soft spot for him. You wish you could take a moment to fully comprehend the fact that your childhood crush is asking you out for dinner (through his sister, which isn’t the best but can’t win ‘em all) but the gnawing stress of Terzo’s text overrides everything.

“Sure, yeah!” You are frantic, quickly getting into your car and then shouting through your window that is not rolled down. “Give him my number or whatever!”

And you’re driving away. There is no way you can think about anything right now, your thoughts running together in strings that make no sense. But there’s no way Terzo could be mad at you because you haven’t done anything wrong. Your feet slam on the breaks, throwing your car into park and opening your door in one swift movement. The rambling thoughts that had been clouding your brain disappear once you see him standing on his porch, waiting for you. You suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment before getting out of the car, forcing yourself to mellow out. The last thing you want to do is march up there guns blazing.

He is absolutely delighted. You came when he texted, sparing no time and not even giving him a heads up you were on your way over. He must have weaseled his way deep into your head and it makes groan to himself, eyeing you in your car. Terzo wonders what else he could ask of you.

“Buonasera, toppolino! You did not answer my text.” Terzo waves to you, the scarf dangling off of his fingers. He doesn’t sound angry whatsoever which is baffling to you. You end up standing right in front of the porch steps and he is towering over you on the top step, his shoulders broad in his smoking jacket. Terzo’s face is blank but there is a spark of mischief in his eyes as he starts to twirl the scarf in front of you. “Is this a gift you left me, eh?” He’s wearing his smoking jacket again but with a dress shirt underneath that is tastefully unbuttoned to expose his dark chest hair. You’ve seen it plenty of times before — he had a knack for being shirtless in front of you but this felt far more enticing, like he had framed his chest just for you.

“I forgot it! I don't even remember wearing a scarf this morning.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing at him. Still a goof it seems. “Was it really important to have me pick it up now? Was my scarf bothering you?” You’re teasing but there is an edge to your voice because how could you not be annoyed at the situation? He worked you up for no reason. You left dinner with friends for this. Terzo’s lips twitch into a grin and he tilts his head, eyeing you suggestively.

“Scusi? I am being a gentleman, puffetta.” He dramatically walks down the stairs until he is on the last step, still towering above you as he brings the scarf up to your neck. Your breath catches when his fingertips brush along your neck, looping the scarf around your neck and making sure to touch your tender skin more than is necessary. “I don’t want that pretty little neck of yours to get chilly.” You forget why you were frustrated with him in the first place as he touches you, your lips quivering and your skin burning from the sensation. Terzo is so handsome in this light, the dark paints around his eyes making his mismatched irises glow. He cups your jaw and tilts your head back, looking over his work of tying your scarf firmly around your neck, thumb lightly grazing along your cheek.

You look delicious to him with your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded. Terzo could easily take it too far, he thinks about gripping your neck and squeezing just to see what would happen but baby steps. You would be begging for him to touch you sooner or later. His thumb swipes at the corner of your lips before pulling his hand away from you and taking a step back up another stair, miraculously not tripping over his own feet. The two of you stand still and stare at each other before finally you adjust the scarf around your neck that he tied just a tad too.

“What does puffetta mean?” You break the silence. Terzo’s brows shoot up as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, giving a small shrug.

“Smurfette.”

“Smurfette?!” That has never been one of your guesses.

“A term of endearment, puffetta.” He watches you flounder deliciously. “I’ll see you Monday morning.” Terzo winks and turns on heel, walking inside his quiet mansion and turning off the porch light to leave you in darkness.

The nerve of him. The absolute gall to have you show up here only for him to dismiss you so quickly. You breathe heavy, realizing that your legs are wobbling from the way he had touched you.

You want more.

#papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction

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berryhobii · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing well! I love your work and I think what you are doing is amazing, thank you so much! I was wondering if you could write a drabble about YN and namjoon where she is jealous because someone is flirting with her man, but joon does not realise, so it ends up in really steamy sex where namjoon reasures reader she is it for him!

Thanks for your request! I really hope you like this!

There was no doubt that Namjoon was the ideal guy for a lot of people. He was the kind of person you’d be proud to take home to your parents.

Educated. Well spoken. Clean. Polite. A gentleman.

He was just wonderful. The absolute perfect man for you.

And only you.

Don’t get it wrong, you were very secure in your relationship with Namjoon. You’ve been together since college and were still going strong all these years later. Through college and your first steps in your respective careers, you two have always been joined at the hip. Supporting one another through every obstacle and loving each other through every milestone of your relationship.

There was no doubt in either of your mind’s that you two were meant for each other. It was wildly obvious that you were obsessed with each other.

But despite all of that, there were still some people out there who just didn’t know how to take a hint.

Namjoon had told you of an art show that one of his old friend’s was hosting and of course, you would be coming as his plus one. Supporting your man was very important to you and being there for him just made him feel so loved.

So you both got dressed to the nines—him in a sharp suit and you in a gorgeous floor length dress that made him want to marry you all over again.

The event was lovely, the art timeless and innovative, and the conversation both hilarious and inquisitive. Both you and Namjoon were in your element.

After chatting for a little while and browsing the art, you went to the bathroom to relieve yourself and touch up your makeup.

“I’ll be right back.” You said in Namjoon’s ear, taking your purse from his lap. He almost always carried it for you since you’d grow tired of it after a while. Especially if it didn’t have a strap.

He hummed and nodded, accepting a quick kiss from you before you stood to your feet to walk off. His eyes diligently watched you the entire time until you disappeared. Good thing he could see the opening to the bathroom from his seat. That lessened his nerves just a tad. He honestly hated when you weren’t in his eyesight. Not that you couldn’t protect yourself but he just always felt protective over you.

After you were done in the bathroom, you made your way back to Namjoon. A few people stopped you to chat, admiring your wedding ring and exchanging information for future business conquests. By the time you made it back to where Namjoon was sitting, your feet were killing you and you were about ready to call it a night.

As you caught sight of your giant of a husband, you paused in your tracks at the current scene going on in front of you.

Namjoon was surrounded by three people, 2 of which you’ve never seen before—2 men and a woman. The men were standing just to Namjoon’s right, laughing at something that was said and the woman was to Namjoon’s left, talking about something that you assumed was dumb.

But all you could focus on was her hand that was placed on his bicep. And did she just squeeze it?! The only person who could feel him up was you! Who the hell did she think she was? Does she not see the wedding band around his finger? An undeniable sign that he’s already spoken for?

Knowing Namjoon for all these years, you knew he wasn’t always the type to voice his uncomfortablenesses. He didn’t like making scenes over small things. You could tell he was the slightest bit uncomfortable with her hand touching him, judging by the way he kept lifting his arm to adjust his glasses so that she’d stop. But then she’d just laugh again and place her arm right back on his arm.

You couldn’t help the little feeling bubbling inside of you. It surprised you a little, honestly.

It wasn’t really jealousy though. No, that wasn’t it.

You weren’t jealous.

You were…….ticked off.

Straightening your face, you fixed your posture before strutting right up to them. Namjoon caught sight of you immediately, his eyes brightened and a smile spreading across his face, those kissable dimples indenting his cheeks. Goodness, he was so adorable. You just wanted to kiss his face and smother him with love.

He stood to his feet, her hand dropping from his arm again. Good.

“Darling, you’re back.”

You smiled lovingly at him, fluttering your eyelashes in a way that made his heart soar.

“I am. You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Placing your hand on his arm, the same place she had, you leaned into his embrace but not before making quick eye contact with the woman behind him. She simply raised an eyebrow which ticked you off just a little more.

“Oh yeah. These are some of my old friends.” He moved so that he could introduce you and so that the others could fully see you. “Everyone, this is my wife, y/n.”

After introducing you to everyone, you learned Ms. Touchy Touchy’s name was Yui. Apparently, she was one of the people Namjoon studied abroad with during freshman year. That was before you even met him.

Namjoon offered you his seat but Yui jumped up from hers. “No she can sit here. Those shoes look painful. Cheaper ones normally don’t have support.”

Oh this bitch.

“Yeah. I guess my Jimmy Choo’s are cheaper than most of my shoes.” You shot back with a smile, stepping forward to take her seat. “I like your shoes too. I think I saw them when I was shopping for phone cases on Shein.”

Sucking her teeth, she moved to sit on the other side of Namjoon, placing a hand on his arm once again.

“So Namjoon, we were planning on grabbing some drinks later. You should join us. We can catch up some more. Unless you’re still as much of a lightweight as you were in college.” She leaned forward a little more, the opening of her blouse revealing her cleavage.

Namjoon lifted his hand to touch adjust his glasses again but her hand remained firm.

“Oh uh….” You could see the nerves in his face.

You decided to intercept before it got too far. “We can’t. We have to be up early to meet our friends for brunch, don’t we baby?” You lifted your own hand to place on his chest. It just so happened to be the hand with your enormous wedding ring on it. Her eyes caught it, just the hint of a sneer twitching at her lips.

Namjoon glanced over at you and then to her. “Yup! That’s right. We have brunch. Maybe some other time.”

Or maybe never.

“My love, I’m actually really tired. Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” You batted your eyelashes at him, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

He kissed your temple again. “Of course baby. Let’s go say goodbye to Lee and then we can go.” He stood and held out his hand for you to take. “We’re gonna go guys but we should catch up soon.” He gave Jackson and Joshua a quick guy hug before turning to Yui and giving her a side hug.

“You should take my number down, Namjoon. We could catch up…..privately.” Her suggestive tone made you want to snatch her right out of those cheap shoes.

“His phone is dead. He always forgets to charge it. Come on baby. There’s Lee. It was nice meeting you guys and seeing you again Jackson.”

Once you and Namjoon got back home, he went to take a shower while you sat at your vanity to remove your makeup and take the pins out of your updo.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that Yui chick. What was her deal? Commenting on your shoes? Ha! Your credit card didn’t have a limit. You could buy every pair of shoes in her closet a thousand times over. And being all touchy feeling with your husband. It’s like she was asking to get taken out at the kneecaps.

The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out and your sexy husband stepped out. Water dripped from his hair and down his pecs, a towel hung low on his hips and another in his hands that he was drying his hair with.

Your sharp eyes followed him across the room as he walked over to the closet to pick out a pair of boxers. The thick muscles in his back contracted and shifted with every movement, light red marks stretched across the honey kissed skin, remnants of your love making from this morning. And you could still feel the bruises his fingers indented in your hips when he was giving you the back shots of the century.

Namjoon was yours. All yours. Pushy women like that didn’t make you nervous.

“What’s bothering you?”

You blinked out of your daze, just now realizing that Namjoon was crouched down next to you.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

He placed his hand over yours in your lap, his palm slightly cold from coming from the shower.

“You were quiet the entire ride home. And you didn’t come into the bathroom with me to have a conversation about dinner like you always do. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face. He knew you so well.

Sighing, you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. “It’s just, that Yvette chick kept touching you and I could see you were uncomfortable. You only fix your glasses that much when you’re uncomfortable.”

“You mean Yui?”, he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I didn’t like how she kept touching you. Then that comment on my shoes? Ugh.”

Namjoon thought you were adorable.

“Baby, are you jealous?”

You sputtered, scoffing and waving your hand around. “I rebuke that, of course I’m not jealous. I just don’t like people touching what’s mine.” The hand that was cupping his cheek went to grip his chin, tilting his chin up so that your dark eyes could lock with him.

“You’re mine. I’m the only one that can touch your arms like that.”

He smirked, lowkey loving how slightly possessive you are. Seeing you get all pouty over some girl touching him made him remember one of the many reasons he was head over heels for you.

“Oh yeah?”

“When will you learn you’re the only one I want? Huh? Fuck, you think I’d let this sweet little pussy go?”

You could barely hear him. The force of his thrusts was knocking your cute little brain all around. You’re pretty sure you just forgot your name but why did you need yours when you knew his?

“Na……nam….” Damn, you could barely get his name out.

Your moans and whimpers were only pushing him further. He’d fuck you until his cock was imprinted in your slick walls, until there was no amount of doubt left in you.

Grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands, he pushed his entire cock into you, the head of it resting right against your cervix. Your mouth dropped, hands scrambling to grab onto anything only to meet the mattress since you’ve already ripped the sheets and pillows off the bed.

You tried to run from him but he held firm. “No.” He growled in your ear. “Tell me who I belong to. Tell me.” One of his hands went around to your clit, pressing into harshly and rubbing quick circles on it.

You shook your head, mouth dropping and eyes crossing as he pushed you to your nth orgasm of the evening.

His hips started again, this time even faster, his fingers working your clit and stimulating the little nub past the point of overstimulation.

“Tell me. Who do I belong to?”

With drool dripping off the corners of your mouth, you let out a strained, “Me….”

“Again.” His hand that wasn’t on your clit placed 3 slaps in succession on your ass.

“Me!”

His grin was almost animalistic, ego flaring at hearing you moan out your claim on him.

“That’s right. I’m yours. All yours. Don’t forget.”

In a flash, you were flipped over on your back, feet pushed up to your ears. You instinctively brought your arms around your knees to keep yourself folded.

Namjoon bit his lip. Why would he let go?

Grabbing his cock, he lined back up with your abused cunt before pushing back into your dripping heat. Your head repeatedly hit the bed, the feeling of him filling you back up too much to handle.

The pace he set should be considered criminal, his own orgasm close.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your pleasured face. Your eyes were hooded and unfocused, your plump lips wet with drool and his kisses, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. You were so beautiful. He’d be damned if he ever let some old friend he barely paid attention to make you feel like he didn’t want you. He only wanted you. That ring on your finger, this house, all those Chanel purses—they were all for you. He meant what he said in his vows. You were the only person he had his eyes on and you would be for the rest of your lives.

If he needed to fuck it into you every now and again, he’d happily oblige.

Reaching out, he gripped your face, squishing your cheeks and making your lips purse. He leaned down to whisper, “I’m all yours baby. I promise. I love you and only you, okay?”

You knew that. Of course you did.

“Now cum all over my cock.”

#bts #bts smut #bts x black reader #namjoon smut #askberryhobii

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absolutebl · 2 years ago

Text

This Week in BL - New & Old Tropes Galore

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized sorta by favs in each category.

Sept 2023 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Fri grey) ep 7 of 12 - occasionally I forget that Yai is like 20 and this is his first love affaire. That poem bit gave me very Goethe vibes. Lots of doomed lesbians in this ep. Doomed love in general. Frankly? I was hoping for more oil less sad. Also, these two are making some v stupid mistakes. Also: MORE boys dancing.

Finally... who was it wanted a rain kiss? You got your rain kissing here, okay? No umbrellas to be had, apparently.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - I love them so much. They are so darn adorable. I like how forthright Kang is. Boy has no game and is such a dork but at least he's enthusiastic. I love the “my boyfriend smells good” trope that BL is into these days. I’m into it, too. The bff enemies drunken bathroom shenanigans was v funny. Also @heretherebedork your boys are couple dancing all over the damn place this week.

I guess we get the boyfriends ep next week?

Hidden Agenda (Sun YT) ep 12fin - The conflict really kind of wasn’t in this last ep. But I guess it was a fine, if not a particularly strong, ending. I wish we’d had the family conflict threaded throughout the series. It would have felt like a deeper more honest drama and the actors could have handled it. They’re ready. How pretty were Joong’s single picturesque crystal tears? Honestly, it's been lovely, boys. Not at all memorable, but lovely.

Quick pitch Hidden Agenda:

A relatively simple and harmless old-fashioned style university Thai BL, that started out Cyrano de Bergerac style but then drifted away into forgetfulness. It felt like it could have fit into the En of Love universe, except that it was high quality GMMTV with very pretty makeup. I enjoyed it for what it was, it's just that wasn’t much. 8/10 RECOMMENDED

Naughty Babe (Sat YT) ep 5 of 8 - Am I mostly watching this for Est and annoyed he doesn’t have a pair? Yes. (Am I writing a whole revenge plot in my head: "seduced to the good side by my enemy's hot bodyguard" with him and the Tem character? Yes. Yes I am. But that’s way too KinnPorsche for this show.) That said, MaxNat really are a great pair. Nice that Dio is figuring out how evil his own family is. Weirdly, I kind of like this speculation that if gay marriage were legal rich families would use it for arranged-marriage power plays. Can you imagine what China would do with this concept if they had access to it?

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - The morning after was sweet, I do like it when we get these scenes in BL. FYI no one misgendered Bojji except the caption writer. The screaming "discovery" scene was adorable. And I am very much falling in love with all of the side characters. I also love how aggressive Yang is, like he stepped out of a 2016 Chinese BL into Thailand. And I adore the main brother relationship.

I have to say, this is going to be a difficult BL for me to review. I didn’t like the first 4 episodes but it seems like I’m going to love the final 3. I’m actually really looking forward to the finale next week. Boy, do I feel strange about this. In other news, is it just me or is it weird to get a gay kiss from Ngern almost 10 years later? How late is too late for smooching a boy?

Never too late...

Absolute Zero (Thai Weds iQIYI) - from 2021, Studio Wabi Sabi and New Siwaj finally brings us this “time loop to prevent tragedy” romance based on the novel of the same name. I think we can expect this to be sad (so it will likely slide down my list as I become more confident about this). Mix is a great actor, so I’m not worried about that aspect, but I am warning you this won’t be your classic fluffy Thai BL. It’s a bit slow moving for me so far. Meanwhile, a revelation:

Thai high school BL is all about the hands. I blame Love Sick.

FYI the outdoor movie they watch is Love of Siam Thailand’s first real queer movie, also featured in My Only 12%.

I'm in trouble, Ongsa is such a sunshine cutie and Sansoon is so lost and sad. Pretty sure I won’t have the patience for 12 episodes of this, but I’ll stick with it for now because a pair like this is yaoi-induced catnip for me.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 8 of 10 - Ah, Ray, baby, you can’t get what you want if you want the wrong thing. Also, corruption charges much? Is Ray turning into Ton or is that just me? I still hold that Jenny’s is the only story I actually wanted. Although, I did enjoy the two bi boys bonding over Freddie. GMMTV sure is making good use of Title now that they got him away from Wabi Sabi and I’m NOT mad about it (4 shows & counting). Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have dropped this show by now. But something keeps dragging me back.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Right Time Right You ep 6 - This couplet ended up feeling like an amateurish short. It was interesting in that way shorts can sometimes push into unusual territory, but very slow. My favorite so far, but that’s not saying much since we've only had 3. Kinda amorphous ending. 5/10 watch it if you have nothing better to do. Next week's looks pretty but silly: You Are My Soulmate.

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) 5 of 10 eps - I don’t understand the bit with the girl, car & eyebrows. Was that all just ad copy? This show is so bad I’m mostly fast forwarding now. I mean the leads are cute and earnest but that’s it. NO SINGING! And... nothing happened this ep.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 7-8 of 13(?) - Buckle up I got A LOT to say. Ep 7 was the boyfriends ep! Look there’s a a lot of problematic going on here by western standards: age gap (FYI age of consent in Taiwan is 16) + teacher+student, but if you’ve been reading this blog for a while you should know that Taiwan likes both high heat and taboo content (and so do I) plus (unlike Mame) they just lean lube into those kinks. And I, for one, am delighted. I talk about taboo in terms of age gap here and stepbrothers here. I’ve never done teacher/ student because we don’t get it often enough (insert sad face). These are not things that I’m going to complain about or rehash, so, moving on...

I found a lot to love about ep 7: tie grabs, smiley kisses, communication, being held down, younger aggressor, AND preliminary research= all good things. They even brought in morning aftercare, and shared trauma! I love a show that’s both unexpected yet entirely classic Taiwanese BL. I love that the family appeared as a plot device and then disappeared again. It’s all highly amusing.

Gaga dropped ep 8 a week early, I’m assuming this was a mistake since they skip next week. But hey!

Ep 8: def uhaul lesbians. Also cute queer fam moment. Ring finger biting = v hawt. Then of course it all goes south. Tres romantic means of taking the rap, gotta say. No one does gay sappy quite like Taiwan. Also, now we know why he loses his memory and Ai Di has to go in after him. Honestly, I’m not pleased to see yet another amnesia trope raise its ugly… head (why so many this year?). But it seems to be this year's trend.

And I know there is more trauma coming, but in classic Taiwan fashion it’s all gonna be fine in the end even if that HEA is chaotic and entirely unearned. Don't worry, all. We good.

You Are Mine (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 4 of 10 - Oh noes, sunshine has a cold. And not from the rain... just, like, a normal cold. Amazing. But then when baby gets kidnapped, daddy gets v mad. Honestly, I am charmed by the show. It is very old-fashioned "domineering CEO puts little lady up against the wall" and it’s Taiwan, and thus I am not mad about it. This is what we would be getting from Mainland China if China we’re still making pulp BL. I am disposed to simply enjoy the utter "80s bodice ripper but gay"-ness of it all.

Bon Appetit (Korea Weds iQIYI) 1-2 of 8 - from 2022. If you have premium icky VIP you can binge it all now. I don’t, so instead I’m watching it 2 new episodes every Weds. Struggling heartbroken loser-ish office worker who lives off junk food + sunshine neighbor who loves to cook (from his past with a long-held crush). Also there is a "love class" element. Why does Korea like this conceit so much? Do their universities really engage in socialization training? Gotta say I’m getting whiffs of stalker... but only whiffs. Basically, this show is going poster child “way to a man’s heart is through his stomach“. Bit too much flashback, but I like that our chef is open about liking a boy, and I like that they remember things differently and in alignment with their own egos. And I like that we got a confession already. Ah KBL, it is nice to watch something that MUST move plot quickly.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 6 of 8 - Jealous weatherman is ridiculous. Japan = queen of “why don’t you guys just talk?”

Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 2 - Ba Vinh & Minh Thao reprising their roles as Dung & Khoa what do we think? 8 eps? 10? We got the stepbrothers (or whatever they are) backstory. Also My Prettiest Cat-boy does certifiable nutcake v well. Psychopath looks hot on him.

It's Airing But...

Crazy Handsome Rich (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - The sound. No. DNF

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan Tues Netflix-Japan & ????) - Adapted from the manga, childhood best friends: The cool, smart one who’s good at everything, and his average, dorky friend who struggles. Always by the other’s side, but not together in the way they truly want to be.

Unfortunately I Cannot Reach You, in classic JBL fashion, could not be reached.