#anyway it’s a bit of an adjustment i’m still not super comfortable writing with it

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story where the reader is an F1 reporter who gets along well with everyone? She’s a close friend, and everyone considers her like a “sister” (or maybe even more for some… I don’t know, let me be delulu here!) and when she gets pregnant, they all become super protective and take extra care of her. For example, if she’s struggling with the heat, they make sure she’s comfortable. Thank you!

golden child of the paddock (all drivers)

✦ pairing - all drivers x female!reader (platonic), carlos sainz x female!driver (non platonic)

✦ genre - protective drivers, romance

The first time Y/N stepped into the F1 paddock as a young, starry-eyed reporter, she felt a blend of excitement and nerves. She was new to the sport, young, and a little out of her depth, but she knew her passion for racing and her natural curiosity would be enough to keep her going. Still, when she looked around at the towering motorhomes, the thrumming of engines, and the throng of seasoned journalists, it was hard not to feel like she was in over her head.

"First day on the job?" a voice came from her side. She turned to see none other than Daniel Ricciardo, grinning with that trademark mischievous smile. He’d noticed her as she was nervously adjusting her press badge.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Guess it's pretty obvious."

Daniel laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. "You’ll be fine. Just stick around us drivers; we’re way more fun than those old journos anyway."

Just then, a few other drivers came over, drawn by the new face in the crowd. Lando Norris was quick to introduce himself, already full of playful questions.

"So, Y/N, are you here to keep an eye on me?" he teased, giving her a wink. "Because, let’s be honest, I’m the only interesting one on the grid."

"Right," Y/N said, unable to help the laugh that escaped. "I’ll try to keep my focus on you, Lando."

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good luck with that. But hey, if you ever want the real story, you know who to ask."

Y/N quickly felt herself relaxing as the drivers bantered with her, making her feel more at home. Soon, the entire paddock was buzzing with news of the young, friendly reporter. And the drivers? Well, they seemed determined to keep her close.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself almost part of the F1 family. She’d interview the drivers in the press pen, and somehow, every single one of them found a way to add a bit of personal advice or a subtle check-in.

"Did you eat today?" Lewis Hamilton asked her once, holding out an extra protein bar during a post-practice interview.

"Oh, I… yeah, I grabbed something earlier," she stammered, a little caught off guard.

He nodded, handing her the bar anyway. "You’re going to need the energy. Trust me. This job doesn’t slow down."

Even Sebastian Vettel would occasionally pause to check in on her. Once, he found her frowning at her notes during a practice session. "Don’t worry too much about getting every detail perfect, Y/N," he said kindly. "You’re doing great. Just be yourself—that’s what people connect with."

"Thanks, Seb," she said, feeling a bit of relief wash over her. "I guess I’m just… I don’t want to mess up."

Seb gave her a reassuring smile. "You won’t. Just remember, we’re all here to help if you need it."

Then, there was Carlos Sainz. Unlike the others, his way of protecting her was a bit more… personal. The first time she interviewed him, he was warm and polite, but as the weeks passed, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He’d always look at her with this glint in his eye, his smile lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Amor," he greeted her one morning, his Spanish accent adding a warmth to the word that made her cheeks heat up. "You’re looking stressed. Are they working you too hard?"

She blinked, feeling a little flustered. "Carlos, I’m fine, really. Just part of the job."

Carlos tilted his head, giving her a small, teasing smile. "Maybe. But if you need a break, you let me know, sí? Can’t have you running around too much."

The way he looked at her, the gentle tone of his voice, and the pet names—amor, cariño—all of it made her feel a little thrill each time they spoke.

As the season continued, it became clear to everyone in the paddock that Y/N was something special. Not just another reporter but someone who cared about them, respected them, and brought a certain brightness with her wherever she went. And as they got closer, the drivers each took on their own version of ‘big brother’ with her.

One afternoon, she was struggling with some heavy equipment when Pierre Gasly spotted her and practically sprinted over.

"Whoa, whoa, no way, Y/N. We’re not doing this," he said, taking the bag off her shoulder. "You’re not carrying anything if we’re around, okay?"

"Pierre, I can handle it, seriously," she tried to argue, but Pierre just shook his head.

"Not happening. You’re stuck with all of us now, so get used to it."

She had barely gotten over Pierre’s chivalrous intervention when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she found Charles Leclerc standing with a concerned frown.

"Y/N, I saw you trip on the stairs earlier. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?"

She laughed, brushing it off. "I’m fine, Charles. Just a little stumble."

He crossed his arms, clearly not convinced. "Alright, well, just… watch your step, okay?"

Everywhere she went, there seemed to be a driver looking out for her. They’d bring her water bottles when it was hot, extra snacks when she looked tired, and Carlos, of course, was always there to check on her, calling her mi vida and making sure she never felt alone.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Carlos found her sitting on a low wall by the track, staring out over the circuit, lost in thought.

"Mind if I join you, cariño?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Not at all," she smiled as he sat beside her.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Carlos spoke. "You know, everyone here thinks of you as a sister."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. I can’t even carry my own things anymore!"

Carlos chuckled, his fingers brushing her arm. "It’s because we care about you. And some of us…" He paused, his gaze turning serious. "Some of us more than others."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. "Carlos…"

He gave her a shy smile, something rare for the usually confident driver. "I just want you to know, Y/N. You’re not alone here."

She nodded, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I know. Thanks, Carlos."

Just then, Max passed by, smirking. "Hey, Carlos, not hogging Y/N, are we?"

Carlos shot him a look. "Can’t a man have a moment, Max?"

Max grinned, winking at Y/N. "Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s bothering you, just let us know."

As Max walked off, Carlos rolled his eyes, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. "They’ll never leave you alone now, mi amor. Better get used to us all."

Y/N smiled, looking out over the track, feeling for the first time that she truly belonged. Surrounded by a family of drivers, each one ready to support, protect, and care for her, she knew this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

--

It was the last night of the race weekend, and the paddock was almost deserted. Only a few lights remained on, casting a soft glow over the empty garages and tents. Y/N lingered by the trackside, her heart racing in her chest. She had made up her mind—she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t feel anything for Carlos. But she didn’t think she’d be standing here, ready to confess her feelings in such a big way.

"You got this, Y/N," Lando said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement. The rest of the drivers had banded together, helping her plot the perfect confession for the man who had her heart.

"But what if he… I don’t know, laughs?" Y/N wrung her hands nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. "What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"Then he’s an idiot," Pierre chimed in with a grin, his arm around her shoulder. "But trust me, he’s not that dumb. I mean, he calls you cariño every day. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway in love with you."

Sebastian, who had come along to witness the moment, chuckled. "You’ve grown up so fast, Y/N. Look at you—confessing your feelings like a true professional."

"Just… be yourself," Charles added, giving her an encouraging smile. "Carlos would be lucky to have you."

"Really?" she whispered, looking at her friends with wide eyes. They all nodded emphatically, giving her the strength she needed to take the leap.

As she waited, Y/N glanced back at her team of ‘brothers,’ who were hiding in the shadows with poorly concealed excitement. George and Alex were practically bouncing on their toes, and even Max was grinning.

Finally, she saw Carlos walking towards her, his hair still a little messy from the day, his eyes bright despite the late hour. "Y/N?" he asked, his brows raised in surprise. "What’s going on?"

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her nerve. "Carlos, there’s something I need to tell you. And, um… please just listen, okay? Don’t say anything until I’m finished."

Carlos��s smile softened as he nodded. "Of course, mi vida."

"Right, okay…" She took another breath, staring at the ground, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. "So, ever since I started here, you’ve… you’ve been one of the best parts of my job. The way you tease me, how you’re always looking out for me, calling me all those sweet names…" She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "At first, I thought it was just you being nice. But then… I realized it’s more than that for me. I… I really like you, Carlos. A lot."

There was a soft gasp from somewhere behind her, probably Lando, but Y/N kept her eyes on Carlos, who looked utterly stunned.

"I just couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t feel this way," she continued, her voice trembling. "And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… I needed you to know."

Carlos took a step closer, his gaze intense, and she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes that made her heart swell. "Y/N," he murmured, reaching for her hands. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that. I was so sure… so sure you only saw me as a friend."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Carlos, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months. You call me cariño, amor—it’s impossible not to fall for you."

He laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Well, in that case, let me say it properly." His voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Te quiero, Y/N. I want you, too."

A mix of squeals and cheers erupted from the shadows as the other drivers stepped out, clapping and wiping away mock tears.

"Finally!" Daniel shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Our little Y/N is all grown up!"

George pretended to dab at his eyes. "I’m not crying… it’s just… allergies."

Pierre gave her an affectionate grin, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "You better take care of her, Sainz."

Carlos laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her into his side. "Don’t worry. I’ll treat her like the queen she deserves to be."

Max crossed his arms, his smile warm. "Good answer, mate. We’ve been waiting for this moment forever."

Y/N looked around at her friends, her cheeks sore from smiling. "Thank you, all of you. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sebastian raised a pretend glass, grinning. "To Y/N and Carlos. And to all the big brothers who made this night possible."

Lando cleared his throat, looking almost sentimental as he pulled her into a quick hug. "We’re really happy for you, Y/N. But remember, if Carlos gives you any trouble, we’ll be right here."

Carlos chuckled, looking down at her with a playful smirk. "I think I have more to worry about than you do, cariño. With all these guys watching out for you, I’ll have to be on my best behavior."

"And that," Y/N said, squeezing his hand, "is exactly how I want it."

Surrounded by her friends—her family—she felt an overwhelming wave of happiness wash over her. As she looked up at Carlos, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.

--

A few years down the road, Y/N had cemented her place as the paddock’s heart and soul. Fans adored her interviews, and the teams always lit up when she was around. Being married to Carlos only added to the love everyone felt for her, and for Carlos, it made him proud—and fiercely protective.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, had been kept tightly under wraps. Only she and Carlos knew, and they were still basking in the news in secret. But now, as she tried to hide her growing morning sickness and Carlos’s over-attentive concern, things were getting harder to keep quiet.

One morning in the paddock, Max Verstappen happened to pass by and saw Y/N doubled over, looking pale as she sat on a crate outside the Red Bull garage.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Max asked, concerned, immediately handing her his water bottle. "You don’t look too great."

Y/N tried to wave him off with a weak smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, Max, I just… I think it was something I ate."

"Something you ate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"Just bad luck, I guess," she said, but the nausea hit her again, and she had to lean over to steady herself.

Max’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he pieced it together. "No way. No way. Y/N—are you…"

Y/N’s face flushed, but she couldn’t deny it, her weak smile giving her away.

"Oh my god." Max’s mouth fell open as he processed it. "Carlos got you pregnant?!"

“Shh!” Y/N whispered, glancing around in a panic. "Max, keep it down! We’re not telling people yet!"

Max clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, you’re pregnant." He blinked rapidly, his lips quivering as he tried to hold it together. "You’re gonna have a little Sainz?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling softly. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone yet.”

Max was silent for a moment, his eyes shimmering. Then he let out a choked laugh and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be the best mom, Y/N. I can already see it.”

Y/N laughed as he let her go, but not before he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Stop crying, Max,” she teased. “You’re making me want to cry, too!”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled, looking sheepish. “This is huge! And now I have to protect you and the baby?”

“You don’t have to,” she laughed, but Max was already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you lift a finger,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “And I’m making sure Carlos does the same. You’ll have every single driver looking out for you.”

Just then, Carlos approached, his brow furrowing as he saw Max wiping at his eyes. “Max, what’s going on?”

Max pointed a stern finger at Carlos. “You, Sainz, have one job. You better take care of her and the little one. Or else…”

Carlos raised his hands, amused but wary. “I am taking care of her, Verstappen. Trust me.”

“No, not enough!” Max argued, his voice almost panicked. “She was just sitting here, pale as a ghost, and you weren’t even around!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, but Carlos just smirked, nodding in understanding. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep an even closer eye on her. Promise.”

Max softened a bit, but he wasn’t letting up. “Good. Because if anything happens to Y/N or the baby, anything, you’re answering to me. And Lando, and Pierre, and basically every guy in this paddock who cares about her.”

“Max, I think Carlos knows what he’s doing,” Y/N said, a smile playing on her lips.

Max looked between them, then grinned, his face softening. “Fine, but I’m still watching you both.” He took a deep breath, then pulled her into another hug. “I’m so, so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered, hugging him back. “I think we’ll need you and the others looking out for us.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Max a nod of gratitude. “Gracias, amigo. She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

“Good.” Max wiped his eyes one last time, giving them both a fierce nod. “Because we’re all family. And now… we’re growing.”

--

The Singapore Grand Prix was notorious for its blistering heat, and this year was no exception. The sweltering air clung to everyone, and for Y/N, who was visibly and heavily pregnant, it was nearly unbearable. But duty called, and the FIA insisted that she continue her scheduled interviews.

As she was setting up for another interview, the heat making her dizzy, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Lewis Hamilton approached her with a look of disbelief, glancing at her with concern. “You should be sitting in an air-conditioned room right now, not out here in this heat.”

“Lewis, it’s fine,” she said with a weak smile, though she was struggling. “It’s just a few interviews.”

Before he could respond, Max and Oscar joined them, both looking equally shocked.

“Are they out of their minds?” Max muttered, his face turning red with anger. “You shouldn’t be out here like this!”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Oscar added, frowning. “This isn’t safe. You’re not a machine.”

Y/N tried to brush them off, but she felt another wave of dizziness hit her. She steadied herself, but Charles had already noticed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it,” he said firmly. “This is ridiculous. They can’t make you do this.”

“It’s okay, really—” she began, but the drivers were not having it.

Lewis crossed his arms, looking around with a sharp glare. “Who do we need to talk to? This isn’t happening, not today.”

As if on cue, a member of the FIA walked over, clipboard in hand. “Y/N, are we ready for the next interview?”

Max stepped in front of her before she could answer, his voice low and menacing. “She’s not doing any more interviews. Send someone else.”

The official frowned, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me? This is her job—”

“Yeah, and her job shouldn’t put her or her baby in danger,” Charles interjected angrily. “She’s done for the day.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Get someone else. This isn’t up for discussion.”

The FIA official looked bewildered, glancing at Y/N, but Lewis shot him a glare that would have stopped anyone in their tracks. “You have plenty of other reporters. Don’t make us get security involved.”

Seeing no way around it, the official nodded reluctantly. “Fine. She can go. But this will be reported.”

The drivers didn’t care; they were already surrounding Y/N protectively, guiding her towards the paddock lounge.

“Thank you, guys,” she murmured, touched by their concern. “But I can handle this, really—”

“No way,” Max cut her off, shaking his head. “Carlos would kill us if we let you stay out there in this heat.”

As they led her to the lounge, Carlos appeared, having just gotten word of what happened. His expression was a mix of relief and anger as he approached the group. “Qué demonios? Y/N, why didn’t you call me?”

Y/N shrugged, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

Carlos looked ready to explode, turning to the FIA official who had followed them, probably to try and salvage the situation. “You made her work out there, in this heat, while she’s pregnant? Are you insane?”

The official held up his hands defensively. “We were just following standard protocol—”

“To hell with your protocol!” Carlos shouted, his face flushed with anger. “She’s carrying our child, and you’re risking her health for some interviews?”

“Mr. Sainz, please calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Carlos snapped, switching to rapid Spanish that the official clearly didn’t understand, though the tone left no doubts about what he was saying. “This is unacceptable. Inaceptable!”

“Carlos, you’re going to get fined,” Lewis warned quietly, though he was smirking a little, clearly pleased to see someone giving the FIA a piece of their mind.

“Fine me, I don’t care,” Carlos shot back. “It’ll be worth every cent if it means they treat her properly.”

The official quickly left, muttering something about reporting this to higher-ups, but the drivers didn’t care. They were all clustered around Y/N, making sure she was comfortable as they brought her a cold towel and water.

As soon as she was settled in, Max crouched beside her, giving her a warm but firm look. “From now on, you call us if they try to make you do anything stupid again, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, touched by their fierce protectiveness. “I promise.”

Carlos sat beside her, still fuming, but his hand gently rested on her stomach, protective and calming. “If they pull anything like this again, they’ll have to deal with all of us,” he said, his tone softer but no less serious.

That night, news of Carlos’s outburst—and his subsequent fine—spread like wildfire across social media. Fans took to Twitter, trending hashtags like #ProtectY/N and #JusticeForY/N. Clips of the drivers banding together to protect her from the heat circulated, and the internet quickly turned it into a rallying cry against the FIA’s treatment of Y/N.

@F1Fanatic: "Carlos got fined for standing up for his pregnant wife, and I’m here for it. #ProtectY/N 💪🔥"

@PaddockPrincess: "Seeing all the drivers look out for Y/N is the purest thing ever. She deserves all the love 🥹❤️ #FamilyGoals #ProtectY/N"

@F1Daily: "We all knew Carlos was protective, but the way he went off on the FIA? ICONIC. #JusticeForY/N"

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through the support from fans, all of whom felt like an extended family. With Carlos by her side, and a whole paddock of brothers watching over her, she knew she and her baby would be safe, no matter what.

[be-my-ally]

The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here. 

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot. 

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part. 

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny. 

October 1974. 

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention. 

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

 “Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out, 

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh. 

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance. 

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie. 

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt. 

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet. 

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles. 

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs, 

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs. 

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him.  Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him; 

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully, 

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”  

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.” 

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls, 

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see. 

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour, 

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature. 

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles, 

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee. 

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him, 

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment. 

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.  

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it, 

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question. 

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down, 

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

 “You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

 You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk. 

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer. 

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again. 

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done. 

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do. 

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response.  Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal. 

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.”  While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes. 

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you. 

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre. 

 “There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone. 

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you - 

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear. 

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting. 

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal. 

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing.  You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror. 

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise. 

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry. 

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich, 

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip. 

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him. 

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him. 

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep. 

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went. 

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often. 

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go. 

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

 You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings. 

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call. 

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line, 

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance. 

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

 “Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that, 

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you, 

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t. 

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?” 

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away, 

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -” 

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works? 

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before; 

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this. 

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him, 

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges. 

“Right, well then, -” 

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.” 

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -” 

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to. 

—— 

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer. 

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you. 

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight. 

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been.  He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot. 

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself.  Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him. 

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“ 

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there. 

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little, 

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth. 

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do. 

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other. 

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body. 

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’. 

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt, 

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold.  You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp, 

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response. 

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does. 

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away. 

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself. 

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance. 

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,” 

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up. 

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“ 

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was. 

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before. 

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair, 

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.” 

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once. 

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him. 

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting. 

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness. 

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over, 

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin. 

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do? 

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent. 

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you. 

 It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book, 

“To Sheila, 

Love you allways, 

E.P.” 

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try. 

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques. 

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him.  You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths. 

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you, 

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek, 

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest.  You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up. 

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response. 

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago. 

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you, 

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage. 

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be. 

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty,  or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt. 

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid. 

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments, 

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you, 

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck, 

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge. 

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets -  everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something, 

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer. 

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity. 

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay. 

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind  licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear. 

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TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :)) 

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

Hi, I read what you wrote And I love it!

Can you write about Lizzie Hearts x Alistair Wonderland? The theme would be after Lizzie's party, and she feels bad because Wonderland was confined for so long, that her feelings for Alistair are not worth it because he was with Bunny for so long.

Happy late Halloween guys!! Tell what you did!Personally I went to this party one of my guy friends was hosting and it was sooo much fun. He really out did himself

Anyway I think I have to make a post with commissions I will not be taking anymore because honestly they kinda just dk how to write them

Hope you enjoyed and have a great dayy!!

————————————

“Why are you out here all on your own?”

Lizzie jumped as Alistair sat next to her, a small frown on his face as he looked between her and the door to the main room.

She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t exactly think she could be honest. Not when her guilt was eating away at her.

“I- just for a breather.”

It really was strange looking at Alistair. And Bunny. They’d been separated for so long that there were days when Lizzie forgot the exact shade of his eyes.

On those days the panic set in. She was supposed to be the next queen of hearts. The one who protected Wonderland and its people.

And yet she failed her two best friends. When everyone else got out she still remembers the look on Bunny and Alistairs face as the gate sealed.

The fear, panic, horror.

It kept her awake more than she’d like to admit yet she couldn’t help it. And worst of it was her own feelings.

A little while before the curse she’d realized something. Realized that maybe she viewed Alistair as more than just friends.

And it frightened her. Especially when she saw the way that Alistair and Bunny acted with each other. It already seemed like they were dating.

And Lizzie supposed it made sense. They been trapped in a cursed land alone, together with no one but each other for comfort.

Obviously they’d grow extremely close. Even for a relationship. And it made her feel terrible knowing she had feeling for a taken guy.

“Lizzie?”

“Hmm? Sorry just zoned out for a second.”

“… everything alright. You seemed off at the party.”

“Yeah yeah! I’m perfect. Umm anyway how are things going with Bunny.”

Lizzie held her breath as he gave her a strange look before turning back around. It seemed like he was trying to solve her words as if they were a puzzle.

“Good I guess? She seems well adjusted.”

“Great! Yes umm that’s great, I’m glad.”

“So am I…”

Silence fell over them as Lizzie wished the ground would just swallow her whole and bury her embarrassment.

“You know… I think I forgot the color of your eyes all that time in Wonderland.”

She held her breath as Alistair leaned closer, his eyes jumping all over face before briefly, for such a small second she thought she imagined it, they landed on her lips.

“Sounds silly when I say it. I did see your mother nearly everyday.”

Lizzie bummed her lips unconsciously falling apart as she leaned into him, so close her senses consumed by him.

“Not really. I think I forgot your eyes too.”

Her words were a whisper and she stared down at his lips, her eyes fluttering briefly to his face, only to find him staring back.

If she leaned just a little closer they would- no what was she thinking! He had a girlfriend! A girlfriend who was sitting just behind those doors.

Suddenly jumping apart, Lizzie blinked as she got to her feet, her mind dizzy with emotions she couldn’t comprehend.

“Lizzie-?”

“My guests are waiting for me. I umm- it’s best if you go back to your girlfriend too.”

She didn’t wait long enough to hear him ask ‘what girlfriend’ or long enough to see the look on his face before she entered the room head held high.

Only for her to meet the large eyes of Bunny.

——————————

Honestly November is going to be a super busy month for me so I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for writing meaning that fics may be a little bit short

Anyway my birthday is coming up and soooo excited I’m throwing a really big party which is a first bc this is like the first time in forever that my birthday falls on a weekend

Hope you enjoyed and have a great dayy!!

[grimark]

i bought a cheapo fountain pen about a week ago (pilot kakuno, if anyone’s curious) and i swore to myself that this was not going to be a gateway drug to becoming a person who is Really Into Fountain Pens but i think at the very least i am going to have to get a bottle of ink and a converter, or else figure out how to refill old single use ink cartridges with a syringe the way some people apparently do, because otherwise i am probably gonna be going through one of those bad boys a week, and that is honestly more cartridges than i really want to be buying.

[luminari-mc]

Can i request “I’m not leaving. Ever.” with leviathan and gn mc

Red Alert! Emotional Support Demon Required

Prompt: “I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Gn!MC/Reader x Leviathan

Summary: You and Levi were supposed to do an anime marathon tonight, but for some reason, you never show up at his room.

Warnings: Feelings of depression.

A/N: I recently played further into season 3 and absolutely loved Leviathan in it (I didn't even know it was possible to love him more!). I wanted to write something that shows that sometimes, this shy bean of a demon knows what to do when his Henry is feeling down.

___________________________________________

He had been waiting for this day for weeks.

Ever since the release date of I Thought I'd Like Working As A Butler, But My Boss Turned Out To Be My Best Friend, And Now I'm Feeling Super Conflicted But Also Kind Of Into It So Please Send Help? had been confirmed on the forums, Levi had planned out the biggest marathon for newly released animes for the both of you. First, he had brought enough sodas and snacks to last the entire night. Second, he had made an entire list of the animes you and him were going to watch in order from most hyped and talked about, and finally, you two would be reviewing your favorites and talk more in depth about your favorite stories, characters and plot points! He just couldn't wait- this was going to be so cool!

Except that, as the time of your meeting in his room approached more and more, Levi grew anxious. He started shifting in his seat on the floor, the countdown for the first episode on his TV's screen kept dropping and yet, you still weren't sitted by his side. The broadcast was about to start, but there was no way he'd let you miss out on the first few seconds, whatever the reason for your absence was. And so the demon got up from his seat on the floor, and left the comfort of his room to walk to your own.

Levi's knocks were weak against your door, before the demon shyly cracked it open to peek inside your bedroom. "M-MC..?"

Your room was entirely plunged into darkness, save for the tree's dim lights, much to Levi's surprise who was expecting to perhaps see you in the middle of preparing yourself to go meet him in his room. With hesitation, he pushed the door to step inside, looking around the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"MC? Are you in there...?" He looked around, a bit worried. You hadn't gone out with one of his brothers since dinner and ditched him, right?

His tensed expression was however quickly eased upon seeing your frame laid down in bed, hidden by your thick blanket. You were facing the wall, so he couldn't tell if you had accidentally fallen asleep or not- something that was harder to tell given how silent you were despite his presence in your room.

"Y-You awake? Working As A Butler is going to start soon..." Levi approached the bed with timid steps, tilting his head to the side as he awaited an answer from you while fiddling with his fingers.

"Oh..." A weak sound of surprise fell out of your lips. "Sorry Levi, I... I'm not feeling very good right now. I don't think I can watch anime with you tonight."

Levi's hopes were crushed in an instant, as his mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Wh-What? But... why?! We planned everything out together, and you even said this morning how excited you were to see it. I don't understand..."

Levi's worries quickly turned against him like sharp knives. "Did-- Did I do something wrong?"

"It's not you, I just..." He watched as you brought the blanket above your shoulder. "I'm just feeling... really down. I don't know why, it's just... one of those days."

"Oh..." His eyes wandered around the room aimlessly, trying to think of something to say. He perfectly knew what it was like to have the blues for no reason whatsoever, but he'd be lying if seeing you in this state didn't hurt him.

"Sorry Levi." You hid yourself even more with the blanket. "Could you maybe leave-"

"I-I don't want you to be alone." He exclaimed through wobbly lips, his cheeks turning pink as he took a step closer to the bed. He knew too well what it was like, keeping to yourself and let the bad thoughts rot inside your brain. But as much as he had a tendency to do that to himself, he wasn't about to let you experience the same.

"I'm sad too sometimes, and in those moments, I know it's best to have someone with you to... share the pain."

He marked a pause, your figure keeping still in the bed, with no reaction to his words. Levi gulped, and as if his body had grown a conscience of its own, he placed a knee on the mattress before laying down near you, wrapping an arm around you. Even with the thickness of the covers, you were able to sense the warmth of his chest against your back. This attention- it only urged the tears you had fought against to show up even more.

"Levi, please, I'm fine, you can just go-"

"N-No!" Levi closed his eyes shut, his face red hot from how bold he was being. "Y-You're always there for me when I'm being harsh on myself, always dealing with my rantings even though I'm a shut-in who's only found one true friend in his life. So n-no, I won't let my best friend be sad and alone in the dark." He hugged your frame tighter, planting his face against your back as his tone softened.

"I'm not leaving. Ever."

Levi kept still, the color of his cheeks unchanging as he suddenly felt your hand pulling out from under the covers, to place itself on his own. As he heard you silently sniffling, your shoulders starting to tremble against him, he had to admit how glad he was that he couldn't see your face right now. Otherwise, it probably would have made him cry, too.

"I'll stay here until you're not sad anymore, okay?" He offered. You squeezed his hand a bit more as a response.

"What about the anime... ?"

Levi closed his eyes as he shook his head, ever so glad he could be there to shield you against the darkness of your thoughts.

"It can wait. You'll always be more important anyway."

___________________________________________

Taglist: @the-wilted-amaryllis, @amistytown (to be added to the general taglist, send me a DM, an ask, or reply to this post!)

[sinfulcries]

victime des réseaux - saeko x male reader

author’s notes. I AM SUCH A SIMP FOR MISS TANAKA SAEKO. also this is super self indulgent i apologize for not writing my reqs JCJNJDS i promise i have a req that’ll be published soon mwah.

tw. dark content, infidelity, cheating, age gap (reader is 43 while saeko is 35), size difference, one time where saeko calls reader daddy, oral (m. recieving), blowjob, degradation, adultery, shoe riding, exhibitionism, mentions of alcohol, implied single mom! Saeko

You were quite literally, the definition of a perfect man according to society’s strict standard. Not only were you the CEO of a large scale company, having several branches all over Japan, You were also married to Alisa Haiba, a gorgeous half russian woman who also lovingly bore your children. You were living the life that many men aspired to have! However despite the spotless facade, you never really found yourself having fun in anything you do. Always so busy with providing for your family, the thought of anything else seemed to have slipped out of your mind as you worked and worked tirelessly every single day. 

Your wife was one smart woman, and she quickly caught on to how stressed you’ve been during the past few weeks. You were slowly burying yourself in piles of work and the time that you had allotted into spending time with your family was now being used to schedule meetings with your clients.

Alisa was more than worried for your well-being, and your children were starting to miss the times where their papa would spend time with them instead of focusing on your job, Which was what led you to where you were now, In a bar with all your friends as you guys washed all your problems away with the hard liquor that filled your guys’ glasses. “My other friend should be here in a minute guys!” Your wife cheered, a clumsy blush painted on her face as she attempted to hide her tipsiness with a wide smile.

You only chuckled at the sight of the adorable woman, placing a hand on her thigh as you continued to chat with your friends, catching up on their stories. “EVERYONE STARTING THE PARTY WITHOUT ME?” A loud voice interrupted your guys’ conversation, and soon enough your eyes were met with the gorgeous woman in front of you. Despite how tiny she was, she was absolutely stunning. the way her tan skin looked in the purple lights and the way her chest would poke teasingly with the skimpy shirt that she wore clearly had such an effect on you.

“Saeko! You actually came!” Alisa beamed, gesturing to the empty seat right beside you. Saeko gave you a cheeky smile in response, adjusting her leather jacket before taking a seat next to you, glancing at the golden band wrapped around your left ring finger. “So you must be Alisa’s husband aye?” She teased making you smirk at her words. “Correct. Nice to meet you, Tanaka-san.”

The blonde woman laughed at your response, giving your shoulder a playful punch as she poured herself a glass of beer. “Call me Saeko. We’re friends now, Y/n! No need to be so formal” You glanced at your wife for confirmation, making her nod excitedly as she took another sip of her drink. “Yeah! You guys are friends now! No need to ask me for permission, Милый” 

The night was soon filled with drunk chatter and passed out men. You and Saeko on the other hand were left behind to converse. Alisa had left a long time ago to take care of your children; however, she insisted that you stayed just so that you could loosen up and have some fun for a bit. Saeko was quite the charmer. Her stories about her little brother and tidbits from her interesting life were absolutely hilarious and you quickly found yourself enjoying her company, basking in the comfortable atmosphere as you two chatted the night away. The night was not only filled with drunk men but thoughts of doing sinful things to each other plagued both you and Saeko’s minds. 

“Normally I wouldn’t have the time for leisure.” You started, swirling the glass in your hand as you took another sip of the alcohol. “It was never in my deepest desire either to spend time for myself, or for anyone in fact.” 

Saeko hummed, tilting her head to the side curiously as she signalled for you to continue. “but one can never be certain of the things they deem as ‘enjoyable’. I have yet to find something or someone that I would consider as more than just free time.” 

God-- The alcohol in your system was making you think so irrationally. You had such a beautiful wife who was at home taking care of your children however, the woman in front of you was so fucking enchanting-- and the thought of fucking her in this god forsaken dirty bar was the only thing eating at you the more you spent time talking to her. 

“Oh? But you’re mister perfect, aren’t you? Thought you’d find some pleasure in fucking ‘Lisa at least.” Saeko teased, leaning so close to you that you could feel the warmth of her skin radiating against yours. “I’m far from perfect, silly. You know I could always fuck Alisa, but you know damn well that i’d rather take you on the spot.”

Saeko could feel her heart beating erratically at your words. Despite the several times that the two of you had met up in secret, she still nervously jittered at your choice of words. You were a man who knew exactly what you wanted, and despite how wrong it was-- You just felt too good to even resist. 

“It was hard pretending not to know you the first time I came in here dumbass.” The woman tried to change the topic with how thick the tension was becoming and you could only chuckle, your hand slowly inching towards her cunt as you circled your finger around her clit under the table. “Well she believed it didn’t she? Besides, she was drunk. She wouldn’t have noticed anyway.”

Need was flooding her senses at an alarming rate, and soon enough she was bucking against you fingers, begging for you to fuck her in the restroom. “Fuck it, let’s get out of here. I need you.” She mewled quietly, feeling the fabric of her panties dampening with each time you rubbed against her clit much faster.

“Glad you feel the same way, princess.” Feeling a smug grin worm it’s way onto your lips, you two were quick in making your way towards the small restroom. Your friends failing to notice your guys’ absence.  

Saeko was on her knees the moment you had dragged her into a vacant bathroom stall, the desperation only urging her to unbuckle your belt faster as she fished your cock out of your slacks. “Damn, what a needy whore you are.” You mused, grabbing the blonde by the back of her head before pushing her head towards your half-hard cock. “Always for you, daddy.” Smirking lazily in reply, she wasted no time in wrapping her swollen lips around the thick head, a loud groan slipping past your lips once she started to bob her head to the beat of the muffled club music. 

The woman was quite skilled with her mouth, especially with the way her slim fingers were wrapped around the base of your cock, pumping slowly as she felt every vein against her warm palms. You couldn’t help but let out another sultry moan, moving your hips forwards, effectively fucking Saeko’s hot throat. 

Chuckling breathlessly, you murmured, “Attagirl, look at you, slobbering all over my cock.” 

The shorter woman could feel her pussy getting wetter with each time you abused her throat and you quickly took notice of how needy she was getting as you gave her cunt a firm kick, signalling her to grind on your shoe like a needy bitch in heat. “What would your son think, seeing his mom getting face-fucked by a married man in a filthy restroom.”

A muffled moan was all that Saeko could muster up as she quickly bucked her lips against your shoe, letting her juices stain the expensive leather. She was bound to cum any second now, and soon enough the feeling of your large hand wrapping around her throat sent her over the edge, her tiny body convulsing right against your leg. The blonde attempted to pull away from your cock only to have her head pulled back in to take more of your length. You could feel your own cock twitching in her neck! And seeing the dumbed out expression on her flushed face made you want to capture the pretty sight. 

“I can feel my cock in your throat, Saeko. It’ll be fun sending you home with my cum dripping out of both your holes.” 

[3d-wifey]

Temptation Sings

Pairing: Ryūnosuke Tanaka x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, fluff, senpai kink, p*rn watching, implied bisexual reader, excessive use of the word "babe" & some curse words

A/N: The senpai kink is sort of one-sided, but what kink isn't 💀 and the title is sort of based off a lyric from Super Freak by Rick James. Also, those are actual lines from a Hentai, but I fucking lost it half way through so I had to improvise. Anyway, this is over 3,000 words of straight dog water. Enjoy!

Synopsis: You ride Tanaka while watching hentai

"What kind of porn do you watch?"

"What?" Tanaka let out a quick bark of laughter before staring at you with wide eyes. His hand was frozen over the bowl of popcorn as he turned his full attention to you. The two of you had been dating for over a year now, yet, you've never had sex.

Sure, there had been some over the clothes stuff before. Some tops off heavy petting, some groping while making out, but it had never progressed past that. Not for a lack of trying, of course. Anytime you could find time to hang out alone, something would always interrupt you.

You weren't a virgin, but you didn't have much experience, so, naturally, you were more than a little nervous. And Tanaka, bless his soul, was pretty understanding. As long as you two could still make out and he could grab your ass, he seemed fine. But, he's still a teenage boy, no matter how respectful. He could only handle being blue balled so many times. And you wholeheartedly felt the same way.

This seemed like the best way to go about it. Establishing a common interest in what you both liked to get the ball rolling.

"Porn. I know you watch it, Ryuu. So...what kind?" You sat up on your side of the bed and leaned against the headboard, knowingly making him eye level with your breast. Nothing wrong with a little incentive.

"Okay, wow. You're serious. Um," he stuttered, eyes flickering over your chest and back to your eyes, before a blush settled flooded his cheeks, "You're just gonna laugh." He moved his gaze over to the movie playing on the laptop, avoiding eye contact. Was he embarrassed? He should know by now that you didn't judge.

You wouldn't be dating him if you did.

"I promise I won't laugh, baby. Look, I'll go first," you moved the bowl of popcorn off his lap and grabbed his hands to pull him up, "Pay attention."

"Wha–"

"There's Amateur, Lesbian," you ignored his questioning look and kept going, "Creampie, Fingering, Solo male and female, Public, and Taboo. That's all I can think of off the top of my head. You like any of that?"

He stared at you slack-jawed. Had you been too forward? You thought if you were honest about it, you both could be comfortable with each other. You watched in anticipation as he moved his gaze from you to the ceiling.

"Thank you, God," he whispered, almost on the verge of tears, "I must truly be blessed."

"Are you serious, Ryuu," you scoffed, hitting his arm to hide how relieved you really were, "You made me anxious for nothing!"

"That is so hot, babe," he grinned excitedly, moving to sit on his knees with his legs folded under him, "All that stuff sounds cool, and we're definitely gonna come back to that lesbian thing later, but I usually just watch...Hentai." He cleared his throat, scratching his cropped hair.

You pulled the laptop over to you and paused the movie playing. Pulling up the browser, you typed "Hentai" in the search bar, and hesitated for a second.

Hentai. Of course, it was hentai. You weren't surprised in the least that he got off to cartoon characters fucking. In fact, you expected it. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him. You briefly wondered what kind he watched before it hit you.

Oh, yeah, you thought, he'd like that.

"What are you doing, babe?" He questioned. You paid his nervous laughter no mind as you queued up the perfect video. You were a genius.

_

"Are you okay with this, Kasuri?"

"I've been telling you that it's okay!"

You watched as the small girl pushed the boy on the ground and climbed on his hips to straddle him backward. To your complete surprise, you were actually kind of invested in the plot. Sure, some of the lines made you cringe and the ethics behind the sister trying to fuck her brother were a bit iffy, but, somehow, it was keeping you entertained.

The less than spectacular writing didn't seem to be affecting Ryuu any. With how much he jerked off to this kind of stuff, you figured he was probably used to it.

"I want you to take it...take me Senpai."

You felt Tanaka stiffen up beside you before quickly relaxing. Well, more like you felt him force himself to relax. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he subtly, or as subtle as Tanaka could be, adjusted himself in his sweats.

He was trying very hard to hide how much the video was affecting him; however, you always found Tanaka easy to read. The furrow of his brows, the twitch of his muscles, the restless tapping of his fingers along his thigh—all of it was effortlessly understood like the words of a well-loved book.

He was holding himself back for some reason that you couldn't find the effort in yourself to figure out, but he wasn't the only one affected.

"You have to tell me what you like. You have to teach me, senpai."

There was that stiffening again.

You placed your hand high on his tense thigh, completely ignoring the eyes burning into the side of your face. Unlike Ryuu, you were a fantastic actor. You decided you would wait for him to fully relax, or be as relaxed as any teenage boy could be while watching porn before you would strike.

You waited for the moment his leg softened under your hand and oddly enough it was at the point in the video where they showed a very detailed shot of the boy coming inside of the girl. He probably thought it was ending soon. Little did he know you were going in for the kill.

You cuddled further under his arm before you looked up at him with imploring eyes.

"Do you wanna do that...with me, senpai?"

It was just like any other kink, you rationalized. It was on par with the guys who were into being called 'Daddy' or 'Sir' or some other title. It didn't do anything for you, but if your magnificent hunk of a boyfriend got turned on by being called senpai, you were more than happy to go along with it.

"Well?" You prompted when he said nothing and gawked at you like a test he didn't study for.

"What did you call—is this—are we actually about to—" His wide eyes switched between you and the computer screen before deciding you were far more entertaining.

Instead of answering his stammering, you rose to your knees to pull the sundress over your head. You unhooked your bra and threw it off the bed with no regard for where it landed. It was a shame it wasn't one of your cuter ones, but you doubted Ryuu cared.

Your hands paused on the waistband of your panties when you realized he was frozen beside you, eyes flickering over your body like he didn't know where he should look.

"Am I gonna be the only one naked?" You would have thought he was on the court with how fast he jumped off the bed.

You watched from his bed as he struggled to get out of his clothes. It was adorable how excited he was, but he wasn't the only one. You've been waiting nearly thirteen months for this and you were practically vibrating out of your skin.

You were content to watch him almost bust his ass as he tried to get his sweats off when you remembered something.

"We don't need a condom. I'm on birth control." You started birth control years ago to handle your irregular periods, but it also came with the added benefit of Ryuu being able to cream you like a Twinkie.

He stared at you for a second with a blank face before closing his eyes with his hands clasped together...almost like he was praying? You heard him whisper something suspiciously along the lines of him being blessed before he practically bounded up to you like a hyper puppy

Probably not the best analogy to be made in your current situation, but it was true! He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands out like he always did before a match. You briefly wondered if he ever did this before. He never told you if he got this far with any of his exes and you never asked.

At that moment, you decided it didn't matter what he did before because you would be the best he ever had.

Your hands shot forward to pull his underwear down before pausing.

"Is... Is this okay?" You asked, hands hovering over his boxer briefs. For the first time during the entire affair, you were hesitant. What if you were pushing too fast? You hadn't exactly asked anything. You just gave out demands and he followed. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ended up pressuring him into this.

"I—," he stopped, staring down at you with wide eyes and for a split second, your heart stopped, "Are you kidding, babe? God, yes, it's okay!"

You honest to God giggled when you pulled him onto the bed with you and clamored onto his lap, like the stereotypical school girl. You calmed yourself down enough to just look at him. The way he gazed at you with a year's worth of pent-up desire made slick dampen the seat of your panties.

"You're just—you're beautiful. God, I love you so so much," the sincerity in his voice was amplified by the goofy grin he gazed up at you with and the blush on the apples of his tan cheeks, "you know that, right?"

One look at Ryuu and even a blind man could see how much he loved you. It was a good thing his feelings were mutual or it'd be pretty embarrassing.

"I love you too, idiot," your hand settled on the back of his close-cropped head to pull him into a kiss. And in typical Tanaka fashion, he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He kissed like his only goal was to leave you as breathless as you made him. And he always succeeded.

"Now," you took a deep breath, "are you gonna fuck me, senpai?"

The groan he let out against your lips was more than enough of an answer for you.

You rushed to pull your panties off, thanking whoever was watching over you that it wasn't one with holes or bleach stains on it.

You reached to pull him out of his boxers, but he beat you to it. It gave you pause how he whipped it out like it was nothing to gawk at.

A little over half the length of your forearm, his dick was nothing to scoff at. He was the same width as your wrist with a thick vein running up the underside of his shaft.

Not the first dick you've seen but by far the biggest. Your heart rate picked up as you thought of the logistics of how he'd even fit inside you. You'd probably have trouble with just the tip.

You pulled the foreskin back to see precum already collecting at the angry red head. He jerked when you took the heavy weight of his dick into your hand and you could barely wrap your fingers around him. You didn't think he'd be so sensitive but you called yourself thankful for it. Easier to tease.

You rubbed his tip against the opening of your pussy and pulled away, strings of slick still connecting you. You repeated the action a few times before taking pity on your poor boyfriend. You used his quiet moans as motivation as you pushed his head past your tight hole.

You hissed at the unexpected stretch. The burn veering on the side of uncomfortable, but not painful. You couldn't tell if it was because of how long it had been since the last time you had sex with anyone or if it was because of the sheer size of him.

You decided it was the latter as you tried to take more of him.

"Here," you grabbed one of his thumbs and rubbed it over your clit in quick circles. The callused pad pleasurably rough against the slick covered bud. Luckily, he caught on quickly and kept up the pace as you tried to sink further down. The ache in your walls added to the pleasure on your clit.

You sighed once you finally reached the base. You hadn't expected this much effort would go into just taking him.

He was panting hard, eyes closed and struggling to hold still enough to let you adjust.

"Okay," you breathed, "okay." You slowly rose to your knees and peeked at his dick as it came out coated with your slick, before driving yourself back down with a moan. You settled your hands on his shoulders as you picked up a rhythm.

"You're such a badass, babe," he praised and you would have laughed if him shoving himself into you, thrust for thrust, didn't fuck a series of moans out of you.

You peppered quick kisses against his lips as you drove yourself up and down. You ran the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip before nipping at it. He eagerly took the hint and opened his mouth to you. You swallowed his groans as your hand slid up to the front of his neck and squeezed, tongues pressing together in an openmouthed kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes flickered between your bouncing breasts, where his dick split you open, and your lidded eyes.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," you moaned as his hand resumed its motion on your sensitive clit. How he was able to piece together coherent sentences was beyond you, "Wanted you so bad, baby. So. Bad."

The headboard slammed into the wall as you sped up your pace. You were lucky you two were the only ones in the house.

"That's right, babe. Bounce on Senpai's dick. Fuck," he cursed, voice cracking when you swiveled your hips, "You like that, don't you? My pretty girl." You didn't want to admit it, but the senpai thing was really doing it for you. Not the actual word, but the sheer affect it had on him.

You can't say you were surprised by how talkative he was, his dirty words dripping over your overheating body like rich syrup. If you knew watching porn would lead to this, you would have done it ages ago.

His big hands used his grip on your ass to rock you back and forth at a faster pace. You relaxed your legs and let him take the lead, pulling his head towards your chest. The animated girl's moans on the computer combined with Tanaka's and created a harmony that pushed you closer to your release.

You moaned freely into his neck as the change of positions dragged your swollen clit over his pelvis with every buck of your hips. Sweaty bodies pushing and pulling against each other in a motion that was more grinding than riding.

Wet and sticky slaps echoed around the room, punctuated by the meat of your ass meeting his wet thighs. Thighs made wet by your juices collecting at the base of his cock.

Your release bubbled low in your stomach, steadily being pushed higher with every one of Tanaka's sloppy thrusts. It pulled heavily from below your naval, expanding to the point where you felt like you could burst. You weren't a virgin—this wasn't your first time, but, God, it felt like it was. And it might as well be your first time with how sensitive he made you.

You were sweaty and you were sore and so, so completely overwhelmed. But your mind was wonderfully cloudy with the pleasurable haze of an incoming orgasm and it made it hard to care.

"You close, babe?" You whimpered out a weak yes as his lips trailed from your jawline down to your damp neck before sucking on the skin.

"Can feel you squeezing me. So damn tight." He panted against your heaving breasts.

You knew it was coming, but knowing and feeling were too different things. Your thighs burned with fatigue, but you couldn't stop. You were so close and the humid air blurred out everything that wasn't Ryuu's cock plunging against that spongy patch on your wall and you didn't want it to end.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you as you used him for your pleasure. Head thrown back and skin gleaming with sweat.

"Shit, I'm-" he grunted at the tightening grip your walls had on him, just begging him to cum, "Fuck, 'M not gonna last, babe." His hips twitched uncontrollably as he rammed into you.

The knot in your stomach built and built before suddenly loosening, your vision blanking completely. Not that you could tell with how far back your eyes rolled. Hands shooting forward to desperately cling onto him as you trembled. Nails digging into his tense biceps, a mantra of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs shook as you rode yourself past the sensitivity.

And that's what does it for him, your impossibly tight heat clamping down on him. Tender balls pulled taut against his body as the white ring of cum coating his cock grew with every one of your thrusts down.

The only sound that escaped him was your name broken by his breathy moans.

Once you came back around, you're still dazed with cooling sweat gathering on both of your bodies. The air is still clammy and you were sore from your neck to your thighs but it didn't stop you from looping your arms around Ryuu's neck.

He gathered you into his warm chest, heavy arms locked around your waist.

"So," he huffed, "lesbian porn, huh?"

"Shut up, Ryuu."

[cornfarm]

waves against the rocks

saiki kusuo x reader

word count: 2.0k

synopsis: you show saiki your powers. he’s unbearibly jealous, yet for the first time, he feels seen and understood by another person.

cws: mention of the reader having a bad family

genre: melancholic fluff

reader is gender neutral!

===================================================

notes:

greetings... i promise i’m working on cease and desist part 2 but i keep starting one shots;; I ALSO DECIDED TO CHANGE MY TEXT FORMAT... i yoinked all the capital letters away... it feels a bit more liberating

whenever i make my crazy op self insert oc, i always think about how i can make them a foil/double to the characters i like. for example my gintama s/i is also a traumatized war veteran. i thought like... wouldn’t it be fun to write the reader character as a direct foil AND double to saiki? they have everything he doesn’t, but he has a lot that they dont and it’s like,., mutual jealousy.

i also wanted to write saiki properly empathizing with someone. aiura and toritsuka are so fun because they both have different moral compasses with their powers and how they’d like to use them. however despite the fact theyre all psychics, saiki can’t really empathize with either of them.

i wanted to have saiki be excited about something, and feel truly seen. empathy is a very powerful thing.

i hope the “ability” i chose isn’t too cringe;;;

i can’t help but feel like i write saiki ooc so feedback would be super appreciated!

===================================================

perception. the way people are seen by others, the mental images and sour thoughts rooted in nothing but misconception. the falsafied persona of greatness, beauty, and kindness. perception.

you kept saiki afterschool. tugging at his sleeve, you quietly asked “i need to show you something, stay here for a few extra minutes?”. he refused you at first, but you stayed firm, “i need you to stay.” fierce. he decided to stay.

but you stood before saiki, right? were you there? he suddenly felt a bit weary, head pounding at the thought of you. your name, voice, scent, failing to find matches in his library of records. when he thought of you, his brain flickered through the faces and names of everyone else he knew.

you were a gap, a void, a sudden unconjurable memory. it was horrifying. but he quickly accepted it. the body circling behind of him was none of his concern, because there was nobody there. he supposes he should go home now. why was he standing alone in the classroom anyways?

firm hands land on his shoulders, warm, present. he remembers why he’s here.

“it’s not that i’m invisible, it’s just that your brain can’t recognize me, and refuses to acknolwedge me as a thing that exists.”

like a wave crashing against a rocky shore, the void is filled. your voice, your scent, your name, all slotted back into place in his mental library. he recognizes the hands on your shoulders as yours. 

a hand snakes around and pushes up his glasses, covering his eyes.

“it’s not about visibility, it’s perception. you are unable to percieve me as a living thing, or of anything of importance. that’s why you can’t read my thoughts, and that’s why you’re so quick to give up trying to recall me.”

he’s practically trembling- you have one power. it was simple, but it managed to find a loophole around practically all of his.

“that’s terrifying.”

“right?”

you take your hands away and step in front of him. he adjusts his glasses properly.

“were you born with it?”

you nod, “it caused me trouble when i was a kid. i almost got left at an airport,” you chuckle.

“does anyone else know?”

“i’ve tried to tell my parents but they don’t believe me. they called me a liar and delusional, so i decided to stop trying with them. nobody else knows, i’ve never told any of my past friends either. when i found out about your powers, i thought maybe someone would finally understand. that’s the only reason i wanted to tell you.”

your lip quivers, “you believe me, right?”

truth be told, saiki’s stunned. he wasn’t expecting someone like you to have such an abrasive ability. despite how reclusive and fittingly unnoticeable it is, it was certainly powerful.

he’s jealous. you were able to freely aquire something he wanted- privacy, but he does believe you, afterall he just watched you waltz around him, outside of his keen field of view. 

“yeah, i do.”

you smile, bright and wide- you’re nearly trembling. was being believed that big of a deal to you?

you take a step forward and embrace him, wrapping your arms around his torso as your head presses against his chest. he goes a bit stiff, and glances at the door. “hey, someone might walk in-”

“it’s fine.” you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and oh. your eyes are glimmering, shining greater than he’s ever seen them, “they won’t.”

burying your face back into him, he tenataively wraps his arms around your back. you continue, voice muffled, “’m sorry, you’re the first person who’s accepted me. i’m happy.”

the emotional explanation for your actions ease him a bit, “it’s fine.” he states back.

you finally pull away, and for a brief moment as you lose connection, you flicker out of his view, but you come back in again, placing your hand on his.

“actually, i can touch you while using my power without you being affected by them, but i’m manually using it on you right now.”

“if you touch someone while making sure they still can’t see you, what does that make them experience?” his voice is clear, a bit fierce in tone. you always had trouble reading saiki, but you could tell that this was interest. perhaps he was threatened, but he was certainly intrigued.

“they might whirl around and look who’s touching them and account it to a person around them, but if not, they might think they’re having sensory hallucinations. i can also talk to people, but because my voice doesn’t have any weight to it, it’s almost like a hypnotic suggestion.”

“so you can brainwash people?”

“not necessarily,” you let go of his hand, you must have released your power, your eyes are dark, “if i suggest something to someone and it’s something mild, they’re more likely to do it because it already falls into their line of thinking. if i suggest something bold, they might do it thinking it’s an impulsive thought.”

“most people won’t do extreme things, they’ll read those as intrusive thoughts. but sometimes people think my voice is the voice of god, or a passed on relative, and will do intense things regardless of their judgement. others have poor impulse control, and some are just batshit crazy.”

you sheepishly scratch your head, “but i don’t really like having that much control over people. i don’t want to use my powers to hurt anyone.”

“do you want to use them to help people?”

you pause. it seems you’ve thought about this quite a bit.

“well my powers can’t help people. they give me the ability to help people, but they can’t help people directly. i think it’s a matter of it i’m strong enough to help people.”

“are you?”

“would you hate me if i said no? of course i lend a hand to my friends when they need it, but i don’t think i’m strong enough to really make a difference. i want to live peacefully.”

you look down at your hands, “i wish i wasn’t born with it.”

saiki felt unnervingly softhearted. he struggled empathizing with his peers, but his heart pounded in solemn familiarity. “i don’t hate you for that, i’m the same. having the powers i do means i have the responsibility of keeping the world in peace. people would be jealous of me for the self-fulfilling purposes i could use my powers for, but i don’t want to use my powers to hurt people. i don’t want to help anyone either. i just want to be left alone.”

guilt. guilt was a disease, just like jealousy is. it eats at you from the inside, and creeps up at times least expected. it left both of you hollow and empty.

“i wish i didn’t have powers,” he continues, “i don’t think i’ve ever properly experienced life in the way i’m supposed to, like everyone else has. i’m envious of you, you’ve had a bit more normalcy than me.”

“i suppose we’re equally unhappy, then,” you smile at him. he had been staring out the window, but he turns to looks at you. you’re leaning on the door of the classroom, tilting your head, you ask him a silent “walk home with me?”. 

“i mean,” you begin, “i’ve missed out on a lot. i’ve always had trouble making friends- my powers made it difficult for people to remain interested in me. i’ve gotten pretty good at controlling them, pk academy has been really good to me, but it doesn’t heal the damage it’s caused me.”

your teeth gnaw at your lower lip, “your family is so supportive of you, they love you so much, it makes me angry. i wish i could say the same about mine.”

it wasn’t too empty in the school, but your footsteps were loud and clear, both you and saiki walking in sync. saiki didn’t really know what to say, so he stayed silent. 

sighing, you continue, “i don’t want to be alone, but it’s too easy to be reclusive when that’s where you’ve always been. if you live a life of isolation, making friends is scary and draining,” a grim smile forms on your face, as if you’re trying to comfort yourself.

but saiki does have to admit that the two of you have much more in common than he initially thought. he quietly thinks to himself, perhaps he could use your abilities.

“y/n,” he begins, eyes meeting yours, “will you do me a favor?”

“yeah, what is it?”

he doesn’t like being indebted to people, but he wants to test your limits. you don’t give him the chance to ask, “you want me to use my powers while we walk out together, don’t you.”

his mouth falls a bit open, lips parting, “how did you know?”.

you laugh, “you’re not the only one who can read minds,” and reach out to wrap a hand around his forearm. he raises a brow at you, seemingly amused by your comment. he expected you to take his hand again, but your firm grip on his arm was admitedly unexpected.

he felt his heart skip a beat.

“well? are you doing it?”

“yup, you won’t feel any different though.”

walking down the steps together, people passed the two of you, strangers, familiar faces, teachers. nobody noticed.

the two of you passed toritsuka at the steps, but he paid no mind. “you know,” saiki started, “when i use my invisibility power, that guy can still see me.” 

“can he?” you murmur, your voice a bit low. 

“if it’s easier, you can just think what you’d like to say to me, we can talk that way.”

you squint your eyes in concentration, “like this?” you think to yourself. 

“yeah.”

you smile. you continue to hold onto his arm as he changes his shoes. 

“that must be frustrating, that he can still see you.”

he nods. he supposes if toritsuka can’t see you, then aiura probably can’t track you- and him, down either. 

“hold onto my arm while i change mine.”

without breaking contact, he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist. you hastily change your shoes, and slide your hand a bit up, taking his in yours.

“is it neccesary to hold hands?” he asks. his expression was nearly deadpanned, but the slight crease in his brows communicated just enough. he felt sheepish, a bit lost.

“no, but it’s nice.” 

teruhashi stands idly at the exit, waiting, doing her best to gently shake off the boys that surrounded her.

“she’s looking for me.”

“is she? do you want to talk to her?”

“no.”

you pause. 

“is she the reason you asked me to do this for you?”

he nods.

you turn and head towards the gate, but not before waving a hand in front of her face. you take a deep breath, before exclaiming a loud “teruhashi!”. she whirls around, trying to find the source of the voice, looking rather bewildered.

letting out a hearty laugh, you grin up at him. a slight huff of air escapes his upturned lips.

the two of you slip past the front gate.

“but you owe me something in return, i don’t give out my labor for free!”

he sighs, “what would you like?”

“wait, really? i was joking, you don’t have to do anything for me!” you double down on your demands.

“you say that, but i know you’re secretly hoping i’ll treat you.”

“shit, i forgot you can read my mind. that’s so invasive.” you pout, “not fair!”

“it’s fine, i don’t like being indebted to people, and you did do me a favor like i asked, so i’ll take you somewhere.”

you look a bit nervous, “really? you’re sure?”

“just accept the offer before i revoke it.”

you twirl in a circle, letting go of his hand and hopping a few steps ahead of him. “you’re buying me a nice coffee then!” 

he lunges out to take it again.

“sure.”

and once more in sync, both of your hearts skip a beat.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: Pause - PART 2

(Set during episode 3 “Replacements”)

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 below if you haven’t seen it yet!

Note:  I had multiple people ask for a second part to the first one, and I had so much fun writing it, so here we are!  This had me swooning at 8 in the morning while I was writing up the end!  I really hope you enjoy!

Link to Part 1 (set during episode 2)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   “I should’ve gone with them,” you muttered to yourself, staring through the viewport of the ship into the darkness outside.  “Omega is so young.  She really shouldn’t have gone in the first place.”

   “Hunter will look after her,” Tech spoke up as he welded a few parts of the ship together at one of the main consoles.  He didn’t take his eyes off the project in front of him, only spoke over his shoulder.  It gave you room to admire his profile for a moment while he so diligently worked.

   “You’re right,” you sighed.  “But still, I can’t help but worry.  Please give me something to do so I don’t drive myself crazy thinking about it.”

   Echo chuckled as he worked on a separate console on the other side of the cockpit, nodding you over.  “You could hold these sheets of metal while I screw them back into place.”

   “Yes, sir.”  You clambered past the assorted parts and pieces that littered the space, catching your foot on a particularly heavy chunk of metal.  It made your eyes water.  “Okay, ow.”

   “Are you alright?” Tech actually paused his endeavor and pulled his helmet up to glance your way.

   “Yeah,” you replied, shaking off the pain.  “I just tripped on this thing.”

   “Be careful.”

   “No worries, I’ll try not to break any of the parts.”

   “The parts weren’t what I was concerned about.”

   Your gaze found his for a split second before he lowered his helmet back on and resumed welding.  Rather than dwell on it too much, you turned your attention back to Echo and took hold of the metal sheets so he could screw them into place properly.  Wrecker was causing a bit of a commotion in the back of the ship, most likely putting together the room he announced he was going to make for Omega after she and Hunter had departed.  You were touched by his gesture and listened with amusement to the sounds of stuff being dragged around and dropped back there.

   “Hey, _________!” he called.  “Could you give me a hand with something?”

   You exchanged looks with Echo who had finished replacing all the sheet metal on his side by now.  He gave you a nod, letting you know he could spare you for a minute.  

   “I’ll be right back,” you told him.  You headed down the hall to see Wrecker holding a strand of lights in his hand with the other hand ghosting over the spot where he hit his head during the crash.  “What’s up?”

   “Can you hold this end of the strand?  While I hand the other side?”

   You smiled.  “Sure.  You know,  this is really nice of you.  Omega is going to love it.”

   “You think?”

   “I know it, Wrecker.”  The two of you exchanged grins before setting to work on hanging the lights.  Wrecker paused when he reached the end of the strand, and you were struggling to hold it up so high.  “Uh, what’s the hold up?”

   “I took too many hooks,” he said.

   “Oh,” you nodded.  “Well here, you hang the last part, and I’ll put the rest of the hooks away.”  He dropped the set of hooks into your palm, and you made your way to a compartment where the squad kept miscellaneous supplies.  On your way through the doorway, you encountered a figure on its way out.

   The first thing you registered was Tech’s eyes widening slightly in surprise as the two of you ended up squeezed in the small space together, nearly chest-to-chest.

   “Sorry, ________.”

   “No, it’s my bad,” you insisted.  “I didn’t look before going in.”

   “Well, I didn’t look before going out.”

   Meanwhile, neither of you had moved from the spot.  His close proximity sent your heart racing as he gazed down at you, close enough that you could lean in a few inches and kiss him if you wanted- which you did want, of course.  Did he?

   “Everything going okay up there?” you asked.

   “Yes, most of the individual parts repairs are complete.  “All we need now is that capacitor.”

   “That’s good news.”  Your face fell a little.  “I just hope Hunter and Omega both make it back alright.”

   His gaze was so sincere as he responded, “they will." The hand he had just rested on your shoulder twitched as he hesitantly pulled it away.  “We, ah, never had a chance to talk on Saleucami.”

   You nodded.  “Yeah, things have been a little crazy.  What was it you wanted to talk about?”

   “I recall we both had something to speak to the other about.”

   You suddenly felt bashful and tore your eyes from his and let them fall to the floor.  “Well, you first.”

   He went quiet for a moment.  “Alright.”  He inhaled deeply as if gathering the nerve.  “I wanted to speak with you because over the course of our missions together, I’ve developed feelings-”

   “_________!”  Wrecker called, his thudding footsteps nearing the closet.

   Tech clamped his mouth shut while you replied before he reached the closet.

   “Yeah, Wrecker?”

   “Omega’s room is done!  Wanna’ see?”

   “Oh, awesome!  I’ll be there in a minute!”

   His footsteps faded down the hall again, and you glanced back at Tech with a chuckle.  He adjusted his goggles, a small smile on his face at the amusement of the situation.  You were convinced that he was about to say what you really, really wanted to hear. 

   “Anyway, as I was saying,” he continued.  “I’ve developed feelings for you, _________.  It’s never happened before, and I only know from what I’ve read that the proper thing for me to do would be to tell you and to ask to court you, if you wish to do so.”

   Your heart was fluttering, eyes were watering, and the smile on your face grew even wider.  “Tech, I feel the same way,” you told him.  “I know this situation we’re in as a squad isn’t conventional, but I do have feelings for you and would love to ‘court.’”  The last word broke off into another giddy laugh.  You only had to move forward a few inches to wrap your arms around his form in an embrace.  It wasn’t super comfortable with his armor on, but it felt right when you pressed your cheek against his chest plate, and you felt his chin on your head.  The two of you stood there squeezing each other for a minute or so and listened to the quiet breaths that filled the air.  Then, you pulled your head away to angle your face up towards his, and he accepted the invitation.  His eyes fell closed as he kissed your lips.  It was warm and a sort of relief washed over you as your hands traveled up to grip his shoulders while his pulled you in tighter.  He was still a little rigid at first, but as soon your lips moved against his he responded.

   Your back fell against the cool metal wall as his lips chased yours.

   “Ah, sorry,” he murmured.  You bit your lip and smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

   “It’s okay,” you assured him.  “Didn’t bother me.”

   The moment was beautifully awkward as he pulled away to stare at you like he had many times before.  The pause went on longer than you expected, so you finally spoke again in a humorous tone.

   “What?”

   “I’m just admiring your beauty,” he said, reaching up to run his thumb down from your forehead to the tip of your nose, a small gesture that made you smile again.  “So many times I wanted to have this moment.”

   “Well, now it’s here.”  Then, your brows went up.  “Oh, I need to go see Omega’s room.  I told Wrecker I’d be there in a minute.”

   Tech was hesitant to let you go, but he seemed to understand.  He most likely also wasn’t up for a situation where Wrecker would come looking for you and see the two of you in the supply closet.  Even if he didn’t see any lips making contact, the jokes would go on and on for the rest of the time on this moon.  Neither of you were entirely up for it.  You’d let the rest of the squad know about your new relationship when the time was right, though Hunter might pick up on it before then.  He was pretty observant.

   “I’ll go with you,” Tech said.  “Wrecker will want me to see the room anyway.”

   “Okay,” you nodded.

   “Ladies first.”  He gestured to the small doorway, and you grinned.  You took his hand and headed out the door first, him following behind.  Neither of you let go until you neared the room where Wrecker was showing Echo already.

   “There you two are!” Wrecker said.  “Check it out!”  He gestured to the room past the lifted curtain to show the space he had made for Omega, and you gushed at how great it looked while he stood there proudly.  The lights shone in your eyes and reflected off Tech’s goggles beside you.

   There had been some rough times behind you, and there were sure to be more ahead.  The galaxy was in disarray while this new Empire claimed it was order.  The squad had lost one member.  Everyone missed Crosshair, but there was hope of bringing him back.

   This moment felt like another pause from all of that.  It was a day of new beginnings.

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #1 - Back to the Beginning

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Intoxicated Automobile Accident, Steve Being a Slight Puppy

Setting/Characters: Directly after Captain America: The First Avenger, New York City; Reader, Director Nicholas Fury, Captain Steven Rogers

A/N: Here it is! The first One Shot that goes along with my FATWS Series! Keep in mind; it doesn’t take place during FATWS. There are NO SPOILERS in this and there will be NO SPOILERS in any of the One Shots. I do recommend still reading the Series, though, to understand the Reader more. These are more like…prequels to the Series. And it won’t be a series. It’ll just be a collection of One Shots based on what I think is important and what you guys wanna see. I also WON’T BE DOING A TAGLIST FOR ONE SHOTS! (Only those in my All Works Taglist will be tagged!) I’ll be adding them to my FATWS Series Masterlist under a ‘One Shot’ section, so you’ll be able to find them there, and I’ll also be tagging them with #fatws series oneshots. Feel free to send in requests for what you wanna see. I’ve gotten a few already, so I’ll be writing those tomorrow. I’ll say that they’ll all be shorter like this one, but...knowing me...we’ll see.

(Also, I’m aware of the theories that SHIELD chose the woman because the resemblance to Peggy, but just ignore that for this.)

As always, not beta’d so please excuse mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and each other! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You knew. You knew the moment his eyes raked over your form. You knew when he looked over his shoulder at the radio playing some baseball game from 1941. You had done your homework, just like you did with every mission you worked. Granted, this one was a little different, but when Fury called you in personally, you couldn’t say no. You told them your uniform was wrong. You told them the game was too close to when he went under. You told them.

So you weren’t surprised in the least when he smashed through the wall, running out of the room. You didn’t necessarily regret pushing the button; you did it because you knew your cover had been blown, not because you were threatened. But you regretted calling out Code 13, not realizing that they’d chase him out into the middle of Times Square of all places.

Before you could head outside, wanting to know what happened, Fury’s name flashed across your vibrating phone.

“Y/L/N.”

“We’re heading back.”

An eyebrow raised, showing your confusion. “That was quick.”

“He’s fine, if you’re insinuating what I think you are.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, sir.” It was a lie, of course. You wouldn’t put it past Fury to slow down the Captain anyway he could, especially if the Man Out of Time was putting up a fight. “Sir, with all due respect, I tried-”

“I know, Agent. When We get back, we’ll set up in Conference Room C. I want you to join us.”

Your eyes narrowed, free hand on your hip. “You only called me in to ease him into this whole new century thing-”

“And he’s not eased.”

“It’s not my fault, Fury. I told your guys that it was wrong-”

“I know, Agent. Introducing him to the new century obviously went less smoothly than we anticipated.”

“Ya think?”

“Conference Room-”

“C. I heard you the first time. I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes.” He hung up without any farewells, making you roll your eyes. The director had pulled you off an assignment - in the middle of it - and promised you could get back to it once you finished helping him with the Star Spangled Man problem; help Captain Rogers integrate into the new times. But it was starting to seem that Fury didn’t just mean when he woke up.

You quickly changed, switching the old fashioned uniform for the tighter SHIELD-assigned one, before heading up to the level with all the conference rooms. You understood doing this in New York instead of the HQ in DC - the captain was from New York and, as much as it changed, some things would be familiar - and you definitely understood not doing this on the Helicarrier since Rogers didn’t even know about smartphones yet. And you definitely weren’t complaining; you had an apartment here in the City that you hadn’t slept in for months now.

Glancing at the room plaques, you paused in front of ‘C’. You took a couple breaths, relaxing yourself just as you did before any mission, before opening the door and stepping in.

Fury and Rogers were sitting at the table on opposite ends, the blonde looking around warily, eyeing the few agents lining the walls. You shot Fury a look, disapproving of the firepower in the room.

“Captain. Director.” You nodded to them in greeting.

Roger’s eyes snapped towards you, recognition lighting up his features. “You-”

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Sorry about the act.”

He nodded hesitantly, watching you as you sat down a couple seats from Fury. “I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll make this quick. To help you adjust, it’s been decided to assign an agent to help you for the next few months. Agent Y/L/N, here, will take that position.”

You blinked, turning to Fury, not expecting that. “What?”

Fury ignored you, standing up and setting down a file on the table in front of you when he passed. “The file has what you need to explain to him. Start now.”

“Fury.” You snapped, eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the file. Looking back as the door opened, you scrambled to stand when you realized he was leaving. “Fury! Excuse me.” You pardoned yourself from the captain, chasing after the director without waiting for his reaction. “Nicholas!”

That got his attention, his stride pausing. He spun on his heel, an eyebrow quirked. “Agent-”

“You didn’t mention anything about months helping him. I thought you meant, at most, a week!”

He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “You’re the first person he saw when he woke up. You’re the best option.”

“First off,” you mimicked his position, popping your hip for good measure. “Even though I was the first person he saw, I deceived him. Why would he trust me? Second, why me? I understand having me for the little show you put on. I get that. But me? Of all people? You know I don’t do personal stuff.”

Fury narrowed his eyes. “You’re on this, and that’s final. He needs to know politics and technology. Settle him into the apartment in the file.”

You gaped as he turned around and started towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. “What about-?!”

“Your mission is being taken care of!” He called over his shoulder. “Politics and technology!”

You huffed, stomping your foot, frustrated, well aware of the fact that you were throwing a mini tantrum. You worked behind the scenes, acting as someone other than yourself. You didn’t help 93 year old super soldiers settle into new houses, teach them about current politics, and explain what cell phones were.

Walking back into the conference room, you found it empty besides Rogers, who was looking through the file, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Sorry about that.” You apologized, moving around the table to plop into the seat next to him.

He gave a half hearted shrug, glancing over at you. “It’s okay. He didn’t tell you the plan. I don’t blame you for being annoyed.”

“Yeah…it’s nothing personal. I’m not annoyed at you, and it’s not because of you. It’s just-”

“You don’t do personal stuff.” At your quirked eyebrow, he tapped his ear. “I could hear you.”

You cleared your throat, feeling slightly embarrassed at being heard. “Oh. Right. Enhanced hearing. Um, so, I guess you’re already starting without me.”

The tips of his ears turned red as you gestured to the file he was scanning. He dropped it, moving it over to you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “It’s your schooling. However you wanna do this, whatever pace you want, we’ll do that. Fury just wants you to know-”

“Politics and technology.” He shot you a small smirk. “I heard that too.”

You chuckled a bit, nodding. “Right. Okay. Let’s see here. Nickie said there was an apartment they got you…”

“Page six.” He informed you as you flipped through the pages.

You hummed, looking at the small apartment, perfect size for one person, right here in Manhattan…in the same building as yours, you noted. “Of course.” You rolled your eyes. You’d basically be his babysitter, and you knew neither of you wanted that.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “This is my building.”

He blinked, looking down at the picture of the apartment. “Oh. Well, if you want I can request a change-”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just - I wish Fury told me.”

“Can-can I ask you a personal question?”

You shrugged, thumbing through the rest of the file. They basically wanted you to give him a government lesson starting with the fifties and then go over military technological advancements - a lot of Stark Industries stuff. “You might as well. We’re gonna be spending quite a bit of time together.”

“Why don’t you do personal?” You stopped your reading, tapping a finger on the table as you chewed on your cheek. “Sorry. You don’t hafta share if it’s too personal. I get it. I was never really into sharing my emotions, either.”

Turning your head to him, your lips pursed thoughtfully. His head was ducked, his blonde hair previously parted and styled was falling into his eyes, which were trained on his linked hands in his lap. His forehead was still creased, but it was more contemplative than confused as it was previously. 

“I specialize in undercover operations.” Ignoring the way he whipped his head to you, slight surprise in those blues that you were answering his question, your head dropped back to the files, trying to act nonchalantly. “Before that I grew up in foster homes. My parents died when I was little. Drunk driver. No one survived. I was…two. I think. Maybe three. I learned to keep my head down to stay out of trouble; be the kid whoever had me wanted me to be. Anyways, I’m used to playing other people. I’m not really used to being myself.”

The room was blanketed with a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, either, but it was welcomed as Rogers processed what you had just told him. His voice was quiet, almost shy, when he spoke up. “You can be yourself with me…if you want.”

You looked over at him again, your lips turning up slightly as you met his sincere gaze. “Thanks. You can be yourself with me too, Captain Rogers.”

“Let’s start with you calling me Steve, Agent Y/L/N.”

Your features broke into a bigger grin as you nodded, accepting his terms. “Alright, Steve. I don’t really have a preference. Just don’t call me Agent. I get flashbacks to every conversation with Fury.”

Steve laughed and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes shut, his nose scrunching up. “Alright.” He agreed with a beam. “I think I can avoid that, honey.”

All Works Taglist:

@happygoreading​

@bibliophilewednesday​

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

May 31

summary ~ on the last day of your senior year living together, you're still fighting your feelings for your roommate jungkook. before you can fully move out and move on, he makes a pretty significant scheduling error. #and there was only one bed

genre ~ fluff, smut / roommate!au, college!au, bit of crack/fake texts

wordcount ~ 5k

warnings ~ smut (18+), blowjob (oral: m receiving), nipple play, marking, penetrative sex, cumplay (sort of oral: f receiving), jungkook just goes hard as expected BUT IT'S SOFT? this is just super cheesy and cute with some hopefully hot smut

a/n ~ surprise oneshot! and they were roommates? and there was only one bed? this is all my fave tropes wrapped into one, i had a ton of fun writing it and i hope yall enjoy :')

~ read on ao3 ~

You walked up to your apartment door just as a boy from the class below you walked out—with a wave, a "see ya, Jungkook!" and what appeared to be the last piece of your roommate's bedframe.

"You...sold...your bed?"

"Well, sort of. I borrowed it from that guy for the year while he was studying abroad. So now I'm giving it back to him. Since I'm staying in the city for my new job, though, I wish I could have just kept it. Now I have to actually buy one," Jungkook lamented.

"I mean, okay, but why didn't you just wait to give it back tomorrow when we move out?"

"What do you mean? Today's move-out day. I was just waiting for my brother to get off work to help get all my stuff out of here. I was kind of wondering why you hadn't packed up more, but you've always waited til the last minute to pack for things." Jungkook grinned, recalling your friend group’s spring break trip.

Momentarily distracted by his dig, you defended yourself quickly before returning to the subject. "Hey! At least I always get it done in the end. Better than packing too soon and accidentally giving away your bed a day early. Your new lease doesn't let you move in til the first day of June, right? It's May 31st."

Jungkook's pretty doe eyes went comically wide. "31st? There is no May 31st. It's June 1st. Because yesterday was May 30th. Right?"

"Oh my gosh. You're joking. You have to be joking," you tried not to laugh as you pulled up your Google calendar. "Here, look," you turned the phone around to him. "May 31st."

"Shit," he breathed, pushing the soft shock of hair back from his frozen face. "What did I do?"

You took your phone back, already distracted by your texts as you reassured him. "Don't worry, it’s funny but it's no big deal, I'm just messing with you. You can sleep on the couch for tonight, you'll be fine."

Jungkook grabbed your wrist, making you look up from your screen in surprise. In sitcom-esque slow motion, he swiveled his head sideways and you followed his gaze to the living room, realizing—

"The couch was his too. I gave it back."

"Oh my gosh," you muttered, shaking your head down with a smile. Feeling a little braver on your last full day as roommates, you finally gave Jungkook the warning that had almost slipped out plenty of times over the year. "Jungkookie...you're really lucky you're so cute. Otherwise you wouldn't get away with nearly as much as you do in life.”

"I..." Jungkook dropped your hand, grinning at the usual nickname but unsure how to take the half-compliment. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot about a whole day, I usually double-check my calendar. I can just take the floor for tonight, I guess? I'll go unpack my blanket again. Sorry, I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"No, no," you cut him off—against your better judgment, but determined to ignore your superficial attraction to him to be a good friend and roommate. "Don't be ridiculous, just sleep in my bed. I mean, if that's okay with you of course. It'll definitely be more comfortable than the floor." He nodded rapidly, eyes still wide but mouth perfectly flatlined like an emoji. "Okay then. No worries. Let's eat, I got us takeout for our last night but it's getting cold."

At the mention of food, Jungkook made a beeline for the plastic bags hanging on your arm, and soon you were back to normal—well, sort of. Eating slightly reheated noodles on the living room floor instead of the couch, you giggled over one last Friday night K-drama episode together and reminisced over all the best memories from your year as roommates. You missed the coziness of your couch more than you thought you might, or maybe you just missed the snuggles you'd shared in its corner on countless nights like this one.

Jungkook had always been cutely touchy with his close friends, but it had taken a while for you two to get comfortable. You had to admit you'd gotten spooked when you first met him, disappearing behind your door after a quick "hi, nice to meet you!" and furiously texting your friend and former roommate Jin in distress. He hadn't warned you the new guy he'd found for your apartment was, in your own words, "stupid hot." Jin had laughed you off, saying it hadn't even occurred to him because he just saw his former soccer teammate "JK" as a kid. To be fair, it probably truly had slipped Jin's notice—he barely believed anyone who told him how objectively attractive he was. But Jin was a good enough friend to both you and Jungkook that he took charge of dissolving the initial tension, immediately bringing y'all over for a "double housewarming" dinner party at the cute new place he now shared with his fiancée. (Thank goodness he'd finally listened when you'd told him she found him attractive. Even if it cost you a roommate of two years, you'd happily take credit for that relationship.) That first invitation had felt suspiciously like a double date, but Jin's cooking and hosting skills broke the ice nicely enough. After that, it only took a few more dinners and video game nights to initiate you into their casual rhythm of hair ruffles and backhugs.

Currently, Jungkook had his arm around you to offer a neck rub while you rested your head on his shoulder, hoping he couldn't feel your pulse beneath his fingers. "Ah, you're going so hard," you half-protested.

"I always go this hard! You never complain," he shot back with a teasing grin.

"Nah, come on, you're gonna leave a mark or something. At least check," you lifted your head, sweeping your hair aside. "Is it all red like Jin always gets?" you joked.

Facing away, you had no way of seeing it, but Jungkook's face had gone red too. "Uh...no, it's fine, it's fine." He glanced back to the TV and turned it off, noticing the episode had ended. "Sorry though, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm gonna go shower and get ready for bed."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" You tugged on his shirt as he got up, wanting to reverse whatever you’d done to make him seem so uneasy. "I'm not actually hurt or mad at you or anything, I was just messing with you. Again." You smiled lightheartedly, and his face broke into a soft nose-scrunch at the reassurance.

"Okay, good. I was gonna shower anyway though—so uh, see you in bed I guess?"

"Yeah same, see you in bed," you laughed, trying to maintain the ease in your facial expression until the moment he left the room, upon which your internal monologue immediately turned into "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

You couldn't help thinking about Jungkook in the shower. And not even in the usual way that you couldn't help thinking about Jungkook, in the shower. As much as you hated to admit it, Jin was probably right about your feelings for your sweet, dorky roommate going beyond just physical attraction, or friendship. Jungkook was kind, respectful, smart, athletic, artistic, funny, really hot, and you already got along well enough to live together: he really was the ultimate boyfriend material. You were both pleasantly moderate introverts. He shared your same favorite dramas and brand of instant ramen. Even your parents loved him—wait, did they want you to date him too? A strict follower of every social rule that dictated not dating roommates, coworkers, best friends' exes, exes' best friends, etc., you had simply never allowed yourself to consider the possibility until now. You played back your conversations with Jin over the year and considered the sheer amount of the funny stories you told him, or situations where you asked for his advice, or surprises he'd helped you plan, or simply glowing, grinning descriptions of something new you'd noticed, that all ended up being about Jungkook. He'd never even had to bring him up. Damn Jin for being such a good listener.

~

Almost an hour later, when you were already in bed, Jungkook politely knocked on your door. He always took long showers, and tonight you couldn't decide whether you were thankful for the extra time to prepare yourself or even more stressed from the extra time to overthink.

"Come in," you called quietly. Jungkook shuffled into your room, toe-socked feet making their way to the side of the bed you'd rolled over to clear for him. Cautious, he climbed in, and you stayed safely facing away from each other for a while, winding down for the night on your phones like you both normally did in your separate rooms. So spaced out that you couldn't even detect Jungkook's additional body heat, you felt the chill of the air conditioning instead and kept adjusting the blankets to try and achieve maximum insulation.

Jungkook eventually spoke his first words since he'd entered. "Am I hogging the covers? I'm sorry."

"Oh no, you're totally fine, if anything I'm taking up more than you. I'm just always cold, so I usually sleep in, like, a three-layered burrito. But it's fine! Really, no worries."

To your surprise, Jungkook rolled over, propping his head up on an elbow to look at you. "Well...I...we could..." he started, swallowing when you turned to face him. "I mean, you could wear socks! Like I do!" He pulled a foot out from under the sheets and presented it to your face, cackling.

"I think the fuck not," you snorted, shoving the foot away and falling slightly on top of him as you both lost your balance in giggles. "You couldn't catch me dead in your weird-ass socks."

"That's the secret, though!" he insisted. "That's how I stay warm."

"You are warm," you realized. One of your hands had ended up on his chest, the other arm tucked in the side of his torso, and both were burning up. You supposed you'd settled into similar positions on the couch before but you'd never noticed just how much of a human furnace he was. Maybe it was because he hadn't been wearing his toe socks.

Neither of you said anything for a second. You could feel his heart beating at a slightly elevated but respectable rate, and while you wanted to pull away, if only to spare your own nerves, you also...didn't. You were too scared to stay like this, but too scared to move too. Jungkook seemed similarly stuck, blinking down at your hand on his chest, but eventually he unfroze to reach over it and drag you fully onto him by your shoulder. You simply let him handle you, not making any additional moves but silently enjoying the heat he seemed happy to provide. His hand spread over your back to press your torso to his, radiating heat through your thin t-shirt, and you suddenly grew self-conscious that you were braless. But of course you were, who wears a bra to bed? You were fine. This was fine.

"Are you okay? Is this warmer?" Jungkook asked, as gentle as his touch.

"Yeah! Yeah, this is fine," you responded, the answer muffled by your mouth's placement all too near to his neck. You could sense the heat coming off his skin from there too, but it contrasted with the mild coolness of his still-damp hair. It smelled faintly of floral shampoo, and the scent suddenly amplified all your nerves as the implications of how close he was hit you from head to toe. Even the soft fuzz of his socks brushed your bare legs, now intertwined with his. You weren't exactly small, but the warm solidity of Jungkook’s body under you made you feel fully enveloped by him. Though he'd shared a fair amount of skin with you through the course of your friendship, the intimacy of sharing your bed took every touch to another level, and being pressed so flush against him felt unbearable. You couldn't possibly process a whole year of pure pent-up physical attraction right now, much less any other feelings that may or may not have grown with it, especially when you knew he had no reason to feel anything back. And you were roommates. You just needed to sleep it off and then you could both move, and move on, in peace. Hopefully the odds of ever being stuck in a bed with Jungkook again would go way down after tonight.

Not bothering to get up and turn off the weak string of lights above your headboard, you just slowed your breathing and attempted to drift off to sleep. Pretending the deeper breaths weren't so you could get a better whiff of his soft, flowery hair, you laid still for several minutes, successfully ignoring your body's instinctual response.

Eventually, though, it became impossible to ignore his.

~

Jungkook wasn't that hard, okay. He wasn't a teenager; he thought he could control himself around you enough by now that he could just enjoy this last night without giving anything away. He almost felt bad when you invited him into your bed, sensing your reluctance and knowing it was his own fault that you'd had to offer in the first place. But he knew you wouldn't have asked if you weren't truly okay with it, and that confidence gave him the tiniest swell of hope that maybe you were a little bit more than okay. While Jin refused to give away any real insight into what you thought of him, he'd been teasing Jungkook for six months about his crush on you, eventually convincing him to try making your friendship into more once you both graduated and moved on to different roommates. He had just been planning to bring it up in a much better way than the semi that you could definitely feel against your thigh. You had both been silent about it for over five minutes, though, long enough that he could cross his fingers that you were already asleep. He probably didn't have to worry about a thing.

~

"Jungkook?"

You had finally worked up the courage to stop pretending you’d fallen asleep. You felt him freeze up under you—the defined abs that covered his tiny waist tightening, solid chest muscles contracting, and his thighs tensing to trap yours between them, all at once. You froze too, attempting to speak again but no sound coming out.

"_____, guess what!" he blurted to cut you off. Which was good, because you had absolutely zero plans for what to say after that.

"What?"

"It's after midnight," he said, jolting up to point to the digital clock on your side table. "It really is the first day of June now. So, according to the lease, we're officially no longer roommates. Crazy!"

"I mean...yeah," you affirmed, confused. "But also, we're literally sharing a bed right now. In the same room. So until that changes, I would probably still call us roommates." A little too amused by your own clapback, you raised your head to peek into his wide eyes and smiled, a big one that scrunched up your whole face.

And his dick twitched. Yeah, there was no way you could not notice that.

Before you could even finish your gasp, Jungkook spoke again. "I like you. I'm sorry. I like you. I didn't want to say anything while we were roommates because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, and I definitely didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry. You can totally not like me back and it's fine. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to tell you like this, I just...I like you. A lot."

Shocked into silence for a second, but galvanized by his unnecessary apology, you responded without thinking for once. "Don't say sorry. You don't need to apologize, it's okay. Oh my gosh, I had no idea. I really had no idea. I, uh, I think I like you too? Shit, okay, I thought you were really hot from, like, the day you moved in, and eventually it became more than that but I didn't want to make anything weird because, yeah, we’re roommates, so I pretty much tried to ignore it all year. But then Jin made me realize that you're basically all I think about—or talk to him about, shit, I must have been so annoying—"

"Jin? JIN?" Jungkook grabbed his phone from the side table and wasted no time in blasting off the last meme in his camera roll. You propped yourself up in his arms, both giggling at Jin's quick shot back.

Looking at him now, a big cheesy smile on his face even as he stirred under you, still a little hard, you nodded as if fully understanding for the first time. "Yeah. I like you too."

As he set down his phone and brought his hand around your back again, his smile faded into a smirk. "Wow."

"Yeah...wow," you echoed, nervous and awkward again. You felt your face grow warmer as he looked slowly to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

Blinking, you shifted your weight back down onto him, bringing your face close enough to hear his intake of breath as your hips brushed his dick. "Can you do more than that?"

"Fuck," he whispered. "Yes."

Jungkook snaked one arm down to your ass and one arm up your back to the nape of your neck, holding you close as he kissed you for the first time, fiercely. He didn't waste another minute hesitating now that he knew you had both wanted this for a year. Passionate but not aggressive, he teased the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue and you instantly opened for him, gliding your tongue over his smooth bottom lip as his flicked up to the sensitive roof of your mouth. Squeezing your ass to guide your hips down in small circles against him, he tensed his other hand slightly into your hair and you moaned at the competing sensations. Jungkook broke away to absorb every beautiful noise you made as he discovered you, heavy eyes finding yours before he rolled over to pin you to the bed and bury his face in your neck. He smiled into your skin when you moaned again from the satisfying pressure of his full body over you, and carefully rolled his hips into yours as he covered your jawline in tender kisses. One of your hands carved through his thick hair. As you dug the fingertips of your other hand into his prominent back muscles, you suddenly realized you were both still fully clothed and you really, really did not want him to be. Tugging his t-shirt over his head and throwing it aside, you paused before letting him do the same.

"Wait. Take off your socks. I can't believe I didn't make you do that before any of this. I really just almost had sex with someone wearing toe socks. Kill me," you whined over-dramatically.

"Come on, that would have been hilarious. What a first-time story!" Jungkook said earnestly. "Sure you don't want me to leave them on?"

"Please take them off. Please," you only half-jokingly begged.

"You wanna take 'em off for me?" he teased, wiggling a foot in front of you.

"Fine, whatever it takes!" You flung his sock across the room, reaching for his other foot below the covers to get rid of the other one.

He fell on top of you, giggling again, but as soon as you shut him up with your lips he snapped out of it, eagerly deepening the kiss while his warm hands traveled up under your shirt. Smoothing over the curves of your torso and reaching up to firmly grasp your breasts, he moaned into you and you whined back as his thumbs brushed your hardening nipples. He was incredibly physically precise, each movement graceful yet sharp and intentional. You felt deeply lucky to experience this dimension of him, the most perfect and natural expression of his contradictory nature. Equally loving, giving, overachieving, and sensual—with a side of weird socks and Gen Z meme literacy—that was your Jungkook.

"I can't believe this is happening," Jungkook murmured as he pulled your shirt over your head. "I can't believe I get to see you like this. You're so—ohhh." He trailed off, taking in the fully naked glory of your top half for the first time. His head immediately ducked to your chest, sucking dark bruises into the low-lit hollow of your breasts. You squirmed under his hold on the dip of your waist, whimpering, but the grip of your hands in his shiny black locks let him know you didn't really want him to stop. Grinding against his now rock-hard dick, you eventually couldn't take the friction anymore and reached down to try and pull off both of your pajama pants at the same time. Jungkook just laughed.

He paused to help you out, rolling off of you to take care of his own sweatpants, and you kicked off your pajama pants and underwear as Jungkook slowly let his erection spring free above his waistband. You'd never thought a dick could be pretty before, but it honestly made sense that his would be as perfect as the rest of his body. "Fuck," you swore softly, mouth watering. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, and you scrambled to lick the tip as if on instinct, eliciting a much more emphatic "Fuuuuuck!" from him. He spread his legs to let you crawl between them, holding tenuous eye contact as you smirked at his sensitivity. Teasing a single finger up his shaft, you followed its path with your tongue and he let out a deliciously high, shaky moan.

"Please," Jungkook choked out when you approached him, lips pursed. He praised you breathlessly as you tightened a hand around his length and began to sink down. "You feel so good already. Fuck." Closing your eyes, you hollowed your cheeks to accommodate his generous size and dipped your head, sucking him in as far as you could go. He was so responsive, you learned what he liked quickly, and savored each whimper as you stroked his balls gently or swirled your tongue over his slit. You licked all the way from his head to the base and he cried out. Bringing a hand to the back of your head, he didn't quite hold you down, leaving enough slack for you to move if you wanted to, but you submitted to his touch and stayed a second with nearly his whole length in your mouth. And then you swallowed.

"Stop! Stop, please, or I'll cum." He pulled you off by your hair, bringing your forehead to his as you realigned your bodies. "You're so good for me," he professed warmly. "I wanna be good for you."

"Then fuck me," you surprised him by answering bluntly. "Please, I want you so bad."

Jungkook groaned, arching his hips up against you and coating his dick in your wetness. Bringing himself back under control, he pinned you under his thighs and reached down to open you up with a finger. You felt so much more relaxed with him than you had with any previous boyfriend or hookup, and he slid into your entrance fairly easily. You moaned right away when he brushed his thumb over your clit, and he responded with a muttered "Fuck it, you’re so wet already," pulling his finger out and stroking it up your folds as he lined up.

"You're on the pill, right? For your periods," he confirmed.

"Yeah, of course. You really think I'd let you hit it raw otherwise?" you shot back teasingly, trying to hide how touched you were that he remembered from a few months ago, when he'd driven you to pick up your prescription since your car was in the shop. That was your Jungkook.

"No," he said sheepishly. "You're smart."

You smiled up at him fondly, ruffling his hair. "You're smart too. And sweet. And hot. And your dick is enormous. It's kind of unfair."

"Unfair!" he protested. "How can I be unfair when you're perfect?"

"Perfect? Shut up," you dismissed him. "Now I know you're lying. You cheeseball."

"I'm not lying! You're perfect for me."

"Oh, so you're just a hopeless romantic. Where did that come from? What am I getting into?" you fussed playfully.

"Okay, we can make fun of each other later, like always, but right now can I just get into you?" Jungkook pleaded, directing you back to the task at hand.

"Oh my gosh. I can't believe this, you're worse than Jin. That was actually pretty impressive—" Surprised, you half-laughed, half-admired his wordplay, but were silenced by both his lips and his first few inches gliding into you.

Not yet breaking your kiss, just absorbing your moans into his mouth as he stretched you out, Jungkook eased himself all the way in. He drank in every detail of your body's response to keep careful track of your comfort. You tilted your ass up against him, absorbing the fullness of his big dick immersed in your walls, and he froze. "Pretty impressive?" he whispered.

"Jungkook," you breathed back in pure pleasure, too overwhelmed to sass back.

"Can I move?" he asked sweetly.

"Fuck. Yes."

Jungkook's brows narrowed as his eyes turned darker, and he snapped his hips up into yours once, twice, before setting a fierce pace that had you crying out with each stroke. He hadn't lost touch on your clit the whole time, and he began to circle his fingers to pleasure you there too, building up an almost unbearable tension throughout your whole body.

"Fuck...fuck! Jungkook!" you chanted. His eyes overcame their fluttering to meet yours. Jungkook stilled, then ground down on you in one big, slow, circle, drinking in your blissed-out expression.

"Harder?" he whispered. Jungkook loved a challenge.

"Sure, harder. Why the fuck not," you keened, high-pitched and desperate. He could split you in half at this point, leave you unable to walk for days, and you'd love it.

Jungkook made a small, delighted noise at your eagerness, kissing you quickly before flipping you over and positioning you on all fours, sheathing himself in you again. He ran his hands along your torso to clutch your breasts from underneath, holding himself up against you with solely the strength of his thighs and his core. Pulsing his hips into you carefully, slowly, to let you get used to the deeper angle, his fingertips skimmed your nipples tantalizingly, warming you further. He dropped one hand to prop himself up and slowly traveled the other down to your center. The lustful, elated exhale you let out when he rubbed your clit made him snap his hips forward, tilting you into the bed before you could engage your thighs to push back against his. Your continuous moans encouraged him that you were enjoying this just as much as him, loving how he remained fully attentive to your pleasure while pounding into you to pursue his own high. He fucked you like a high-intensity workout, pushing his unreasonably built body to its limits of speed and strength. You couldn't help wishing you'd taken him up on more of his offers to hit the gym together, but he seemed to get off on your breathlessness, wanting to give you his all and push you past your limits too. His fingers working as quickly as his hips, heat swelled up inside you, and when you felt sure that the tension in your core was about to break, you turned your head to cry out to him.

"Jungkookie, Jungkook—nhngh, I'm gonna cum."

"Ahhhh," he moaned. "Me too, _____. You feel so amazing, ahh—you're so perfect for me." The praise warmed your heart and your core, and soon you came around him with a long, drawn-out whine. He fucked you deep through each spasm, sending you into hot, heady overstimulation as he shuddered and emptied himself into you. When you finally collapsed under him, legs sore and shaking, he pulled out of you gently and lowered his lips to your lower lips with great care. Jungkook meticulously kissed from your swollen clit to your entrance, soft as a whisper, and you breathed out in overwhelmed bliss as his tongue emerged to tenderly nudge every drop of his cum into your opening. The gesture of aftercare, just as soothing as it was inexplicably hot, bloomed an affection within you that almost made your heart hurt. You rolled over, stretching your legs out, and he looked up at you from between them. His hair was a beautifully sweaty mess, and he smiled in sweet satisfaction with your wetness adorning his chin. That was your Jungkook.

"Don't go anywhere," he said softly, kneading your thighs with his hands.

"Well, I have to do the whole pee-after-sex thing. But after that, where would I go? There's only one bed in this apartment now," you couldn't help teasing.

"Hey! If I hadn't given away my bed, none of this would have happened," he complained cutely, pulling himself up to big-spoon you. “Just stay with me.”

"I will. I know," you murmured back. "And I'm so happy you did." You shifted back, closer against him, and he buried his face in your neck.

"You know, I was gonna miss being roommates so much," he said thoughtfully. "But I'm so okay with not being your roommate now if I get to be your...your..." He grinned into your shoulder, suddenly too shy to say it.

You turned to face him, holding his pink cheeks in both of your hands and kissing his nose. Knowing this would be just the first intimate moment of many made you both flush with an easy, sweet joy.

"My Jungkook. You're my Jungkook."

[neko-rogers]

hey!! I’m not sure if your inbox is still open but I thought I’d send this just in case! what would you think abt a dark!peter who’s obsessed w s/o and offers to have her stay with him during like the stay-at-home pet of covid so she’s not alone then when it’s lifted he’s like lol you’re not leaving. sorry that’s kinda long and super specific. i absolutely love your writing though!!💗

Jamie All Over

words: 2,040 (no, i should be sorry bc this was chaotic)

tags: didn’t expect it to be this LONG, manipulative!peter parker, grooming, overprotectiveness, slight mentions of sex, don’t expect too much lmao its a headcanon

a/n: hi babe! i wasn’t entirely sure if you wanted this as a one shot (but if u do let me know!)

so you’re pretty unaware of every move peter is trying to do with you, you know? you were not really sure if it was a kind gesture, as the gentleman he seemed to be, or was it just a special treatment

ever since second year and until now as both of you were on your fourth year, he was consistent with his efforts

these moves were moments like when he would carry your books to your next class or confidently invite you to a study ‘date’ at the library after – often times he tells that his friends were invited, but would never show up later on

sometimes he would bring you lunch. you tried to turn it down kindly, but he insists that it was purposely packed as an extra for when he stays late around the university.

it was a lie though. anyone could tell by the way it was prepared looking very appetizing and tasted just as amazing at it was presented. 

and as peter had mentioned that he lived alone, you also assumed he was the one to make his meals. you were so sure he doesn’t pack for an extra and intentionally wants to impress you with his skills.

“hey, y/n!,” he calls, “look this eggroll has a cute design!”

he honestly was an epitome of a walking sunshine. his smile seemed so pure and you never felt any ill-intent for every gesture he had done for you

his friends seemed very welcoming the moment he introduced you to his group

you got along with ned who seemed to be just as joyful and funny as peter. meanwhile mj was a bit more of a tough cookie, nevertheless you both eventually got a long better than you expected

however, it came to one point wherein your own group of friends started being disheartened with your lack of communication

“you’ve been spending more time with that parker boy, huh?” “yeah, kinda?” “are you two like... dating?” “oh no! no... no... nooo!”

the moment they frowned at you was then that you realized and felt a little more guilty. you always remembered that friends were supposed to be friends despite the lack of time and effort, right?

somehow you tried to compensate for the lack of time with your friends. but every minute you spend felt more awkward than before

they weren’t sharing the same vibe with you and you were starting to question if it had been always like it – were you only adjusting to them?

you reached out for peter, considering that he became one of the closest and trusted people around the university. plus, he seemed to have genuinely great friends

“do you feel happy when you’re spending time with them?”

“well i used to but recently–”

“then you should stop being friends with them.”

you were upset for a second. the way he instantly told you that cutting ties with them would be the (only) option

he sounded serious on the other end of the line and you were just speechless for a moment. the dead air between lines was evident, but you didn’t know what to say

“sorry,” peter makes up, “i didn’t mean to sound too serious. i just don’t like people who are rude, especially to you.”

“oh, it’s fine. i totally get it.” you felt a batch of butterflies around your stomach. someone actually cared for you!!!

the moment you didn’t hesitate on losing your friendship with your past friends and moved on with joining peter’s group, things felt lighter.

somehow you felt more expressive than you realized. they were open to your ideas and thoughts, just as you were with them. you felt super comfortable and realized that you weren’t holding back on anything anymore

that’s why you had expected your winter break to be better than your past ones

everyone agreed to skate around the ice rink in rockefeller for christmas. along with it, also spending new year’s eve at the time square

news flash: you finally had the cliche new year’s eve kiss, with none other than peter parker!!! hooray!!!

for anyone who had common sense, your feelings for peter had accentuated. you weren’t denying it either, and the boy wasn’t oblivious to it too

he was just so irresistible and kind to you, like, all the time – to surreal, honestly

you felt and KNEW you were spoiled with peter (and his friends, who liked to spend time with you outside too, just not as much as him)

just as you were planning your spring break activities, it had to be postponed for another time

a lockdown had to be implemented around the country as it was under the state of a pandemic

mj and ned told the group that they’ll be with their families since lectures had to be concluded for the mean time

you planned to do the same, but you expected that this situation wouldn’t last long. so you chose to stay in your dorm rather than return to your hometown

completely sucks since you not only don’t get to hang out with your friends, but you weren’t able to see anyone in person...

until you got a text from peter

he was literally inviting you over his apartment since he explained that he wasn’t returning home either

you practically rushed to pack a small amount of clothes for a sleepover whilst not forgetting to wear a mask (bc it’s fucking important ok)

you arrived at his address and a big warm hug ensues 

his unit was so tidy and you were convinced he did it to impress you

peter was so happy to see you, acknowledging that you’re also spending a few nights with him

the nights mostly consisted of eating snacks and binge watching movies

however during one of those nights, both of you got a bonus – making out on his couch and further, completely forgetting the television

making out with peter wasn’t awkward at all. most of the time he was the one in control, which you didn’t mind

his hands treated you so gently but the way he teased you made you crave for more than what he was offering

a lot of whining, swearing, and begging – you weren’t aware but he was enjoying it a lot

on his side, he did praise you from time to time, but most of it consisted of raw tension and actions. the room was full of grunts and short breaths 

just want to include how sexy peter would be while he moans all over you. like his whole sunshine personality just drained away the moment he places his hands on either sides of your waist

the next day you felt like a princess even though you know it shouldn’t be???

apparently peter prepared breakfast for you and you felt embarrassed walking around his place only in the shirt you wore yesterday and underwear

just when you thought the extra lunch he packs for you was already amazing, the breakfast he prepared whilst being fresh and hot was just incredible

“you really like it?”

“of course! you really have to teach me to cook sometimes”

peter laughs and jokes, “yeah, don’t worry. i feel like we’ve got a lot of time ahead.”

ok fast forward to a few more days when you were beginning to feel like a freeloader. he lets you borrow a few of his clothes as yours were in the laundry

by the time you wanted to stop by your place, peter started to be more... clingy

at first he didn’t want you to go but after a few more debates, he felt defeated and instead insisted on going with you

eventually you caved and let him. it wasn’t that bad either, he talked to you about a lot of things on the way leaving you entertained the whole walk without realizing how far it had been

he helped you ‘pack’ more stuff so you wouldn’t be going back and forth from his place and yours. you felt like you were going out of town for a month with the amount of clothes and products

both of you returned to his place around late afternoon. you felt pretty tired and didn’t hesitate to pass out on the living room couch

when you woke up you sensed that you were in peter’s bedroom, meaning he carried and tucked you during the night

plus! an arm was wrapped around your midriff and you could feel peter’s breathing against your side

you closed your eyes and appreciated the moment. it was cute and made butterflies flutter around your stomach, and you tried not to move much to not wake him up

anyways apparently the pandemic lasted longer, and more serious, than expected (fuck the government and their incompetency) 

you spent more time with peter and was thankful that you didn’t spend this quarantine alone

within a blink of an eye, a month and a half already had passed. you couldn’t deny that most, or all, days have been unproductive

eat, cook, watch tv, cuddle, fuck, repeatedly get spoiled??? yeah sounds like the dream

weird though because you haven’t completely brought up to peter if you’re actually in a relationship with him. oh no were you just friends with (a lot) of benefits??

but you also felt like it wasn’t the time to bring it up. neither of you were saying anything so it was best to let it be for the fear that things might go downhill from there

anyways this continued for more weeks, especially since the ‘stay-at-home’ policy was deemed necessary

you started to help him do errands around the apartment just to feel like you weren’t an actual freeloader – but it wasn’t a surprise when he kept insisting that you should relax

more cute moments

more sexy times

and more cuddles during night (peter’s grip became tighter every night, but you shrugged it off assuming that it was just you getting homesick and overthinking)

ok but when you brought up being homesick and mentioned that you planned peter wasn’t entirely happy about it

the way he acted wasn’t just clingy. he insisted that he’d be the one to go and that you were staying

“ok but i’m not a dog, peter?” “i know, honey, but it’s too dangerous outside. i wouldn’t want you to be at risk.” “i wear a mask?? i follow health protocols?? i’ll be fine??” “you don’t understand–”

oh god he was becoming controlling

you tried not to argue anymore, rather ignoring and pushing past him to proceed to the door

and peter instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist and prevented you from walking further

there was a lot of struggling, but you didn’t know he was this strong. literally what the hell.

you tried to scream too but he pretty much threatened you to your core

“let’s talk this out,” he grunts as he secures his grip around you

“the hell? let me go!”

things got more complicated. he did convince you to talk with him (by means of tying your arms and legs to incapacitate you from running and righting)

it was a nightmare. he was really soft and sweet with you, even getting teary eyed after stating, “i only want what’s best for you... for us”

however you could sense the manipulativeness through it despite being making everything else look convincing

“trust me, sweetie, i wouldn’t want to hurt you. it would crush me” “please don’t cry. i’m only protecting you” “people are disgusting, they don’t deserve an angel like you” “don’t worry, i can protect you”

it terrified you to your nerves, sending shivers across your spine

at first you didn’t realize it, but eventually after days of being trapped, you figured he had been grooming you the whole time

he tried to make you dependent of him and somehow he did a fine job. just not enough to completely exploit you

though, it made you question what would have been better in your situation: being conscious of his sly nature with the hope of escaping or being unaware and completely wrapped around his finger whereas letting him continue how greatly he had been caring for you?

[lululawrence]

hello!! i was wondering if u had a werewolf tag for fics? i would search it but not sure how to use tumblr that well :)) if not do u have recs? LOVE U HAVE A NICE DAY<333

hi babes! i don't have one here... damn that's a fucking great idea. hahaha i'm HORRIBLY unorganized when it comes to tags for fics on tumblr. i mostly use ao3 for the organization of fics. so! that said, i defo DO have recs for you!

you didn't specify pairing, which makes me smile because i get to rec rare pairs in addition to larry and hope you read them hehe okay, here we go!

He Carries The Key by me (8k, NR, niall/louis) - this fic is the only one of mine i'll include, okay? promise haha but it is also one i wrote for wordplay just a week or two ago and it's werewolves and a pack fic and i just had a lot of fun. very soft. much fluff. many feels. i hope you enjoy. lol

There's Fur Everywhere by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (4k, G, Harry/Louis) - this is a 5 times fic, and it's HYSTERICAL. it feels slightly spoilery for me to even be including it on this list, but also... it's still fucking hilarious. emmu is queen of the crack fic that makes you feel all the soft and wonderful things, and she doesn't disappoint with this one.

I Hear Them Calling for You by @jaerie / jaerie (6k, E, Harry/Louis) - this fic is... not for everyone. like at all. please please please read the tags and the summary and if you don't like it or it makes you uncomfortable, then close right out of it. as for ME i loved what she explored with it, all the emotions and the story and worldbuilding of it all. i thought it was fantastic and incredibly interesting. it is A/B/O, pack fic with claiming and... yeah. it's amazing.

Campus Creatures by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything and @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld (25k, E, Harry/Louis) - werewolves! vampires! fae! university! frat houses! science research positions being vied for! enemies to lovers! like... not sure what more you could ASK for, but there's also a fuck ton of humor and nudity and sexual tension and... it's just a lot of fun. can't go wrong, really. haha

From What I've Tasted of Desire by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 (72k, T, Harry/Louis) - okay so i'm including this one even though like... harry and louis aren't werewolves. but it's a twilight au, so there ARE werewolves and i'm ASSUMING you know twilight and therefore know that means you know they're pretty involved and... that's true for this fic too. ahha for real, though, i love evi's writing and this fic was one of my first introductions to it and it was a fun read, so i wanted to include it in case it had enough of the werewolf flair to entice you haha

Compete Against the Stars by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove (31k, M, Harry/Louis) - omg okay so this one is like ANGSTY AF and i FUCKING LOVE IT because it's one of those fics that you HOPE you have figured out, and you probably do, but also there's SO many twists and turns to it all that you just have NO idea how it's all gonna work out and omg are they gonna just ruin it all for themselves by being stupid and ahhhhh the tension of just FIGURING OUT HOW THEY GET IT ALL TO WORK OUT!!! and of course it does. hahaha but HOW??? this is a RIDE and in my mind feels like a longer fic than 31k in the best of ways, they did an amazing job of packing a LOT of world building and storytelling into those 31k.

the straight for your heart (wolfpack au) series by foreverkneeld and foundfamilyvevo (96k, T/G, Multiple or No pairings including Niall/Louis, Zayn/Liam, OT5, and Shawn/Niall) - This series is the ultimate hurt/comfort and healing pack fic series omg. it was recommended to me when i was in a super hard time and my anxiety was so bad i couldn't focus on anything. These short fics that all focused so much on healing and found family were exactly what i needed. so so soft, so lovely. I still haven't read them all because i'm saving them for when i need them. they're glorious.

when the air ran out and we both started running wild by darlingjustdont (48k, M, Nick/Louis) - OMG OKAY LISTEN THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVS. a tomlinshaw werewolf pack fic?! ahhhhhhhhh i was SO happy when i discovered this one. louis is alpha of the pack and things are... shaky, shall we say. there's a lot going on that he's worried about and then he meets nick and it's kind of enemies to lovers? okay, more than kind of. but omg the FEELS. SO. MANY. FEELS. but also danger and a;lsdgkhas;ldfkja just please read this and rave with me because i don't have many i can talk about this one with and i LOVE IT.

You Smell Like by mystic_believexx (185k, M, Harry/Louis) - i had no idea this fic was so long hahahaha wow ANYWAY louis is human, but he's always been close with harry and therefore basically a part of his pack. but then one day harry leaves and louis kind of accidentally becomes the pack alpha. even though he's human. but there's SO much more to it. there's just sooooo much with the friendship and the pack bond as well as the danger and trying to figure out what the hell is going on... it's just a LOT and one of those epic fics that i still think about even though i read it...a year and a half ago i guess. but it's amazing and i highly recommend it if the word count doesn't scare you away haha

Canyon Moon by @eeveelou / delsicle (41k, E, Harry/Louis) - this is a lion king au, made a/b/o werewolves! i really enjoyed this one a lot, actually, because i could absolutely see the parallels, but also the way it was adapted made it so it wasn't always obvious how it would all play out. it was a really interesting and cool world building as well.

The Truth I Can't Explain (Smoke and Mirrors) by @fallinglikethis / FallingLikeThis (9k, M, Harry/Louis) - ohhhhh this one is SO cool cause it's by tabby so she made it incredibly fun and fascinating to try to figure out. there's magic and mages and werewolves and feuds and they're basically on the eve of battle and holy cow it's just SO cool.

One Touch Is Never Enough by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything (4k, E, Harry/Louis) - once again lauren delivers and there's just so much i keep giggling about with this because it is SO fun. there's a lot that louis is dealing with in this fic hahaha and the way she writes it all is so funny. the poor man just wants a fucking massage! lololol it's lighthearted, humorous, and basically filled with fluff, crack, and smut. hahaha

Knot Safe For Work by @jaerie / jaerie (6k, E, Harry/Louis) - a;sldkgha;lfdkjas listen i forgot about this fic until i found it in my bookmarks for werewolves because jenna writes so many fucking amazing fics that when i think of werewolves, i think of at least two others first, but i could NOT do this rec without this fic because now that i remember it exists i am going to have to go and read it again! hahaha harry's a werewolf, louis is a wizard, there's knotting dildos and table sex and... just read it. lolol

Saving's What I Need by @jaerie / jaerie (17k, M, Harry/Louis) - writer louis is out for a drive one day and he hits a dog. THIS POOR DOG! he takes it to the vet and tries his best to take care of it... but things are not as they seem. because yeah, harry is defo not a dog. lollllll this fic was hilarious and sweet and omg there's just so much to love about it. there were so many more emotions in it than i expected. loooove!

Out of the Wild by @jaerie / jaerie (22k, E, Harry/Louis) - this fic has such fun world building, which is actually a huge strength of jenna's fics and you'll hear me rave about it with all 50 of her fics that will end up on this rec list (not really 50, but ya know lol). louis is a fairly wild and undomesticated wolf and harry's from the city and they end up as roommates during the x factor process. oh my word this fic is so fun because of all the challenges they're going through PLUS the wolf side of things and just... the way they work together and navigate it all as well as falling for each other is pure gold.

Out With The Old, In With The New by, you guessed it, @jaerie / jaerie (7k, E, Harry/Louis) - listen, just. this one is smutty as hell and it's gonna take you some places that some people will be uncomfortable with, which is totally valid and fair. please be sure to read the tags and make your decision on whether or not to read accordingly, but also know that its written in a super interesting way that is also pretty amazing if you do decide to give it a shot. lol

Instincts by @marastarfar / StarFar ( 100k so far - it's a WIP!, T, Harry/Louis) - omg listen. i LOVE mara's fics so much and when this first posted it was a one shot little thing that was FASCINATING. i loved it! and then i was happily surprised when i learned more was added to it. and then it was turned into a wip and omg i am so far behind now but i trust mara with my life because i love everything i've read by them and what i've read of this so far is INCREDIBLE so just. yeah. lollll

There's a Power in What You Do by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (7k, T, Harry/Louis) - i just read my comment i left on this one and it was just mainly me begging for time stamps because there wasn't any way for her to improve upon the perfection of this fic (nesting! softness! even a silly comment in her endnotes to perfectly cap it all!), but i still wanted to remain in the story just a bit longer and learn more about them. hahaha anyway, those time stamps aren't happening, but this fic is still complete perfection.

amaryllis by @hattalove / hattalove (147k, E, Harry/Louis) - for a long time this was thought of as THE werewolf fic. if anyone was talking about a werewolf fic, it was probably this one. is that still the case? probably. i'm not sure. ANYWAY. there's a REASON it was THE werewolf fic and that's because this is amazing. it sucks you in and you feel like you're truly a part of the action. it's filled with the vibe of found family and wanting to figure out what happened while also adjusting to your new life and just... so many feelings. so much angst. SO fantastically epic.

[specialagentsergio]

love, in ink

summary: Spencer wants to do something special to commemorate your relationship. (or, reader and spencer get a couples’ tattoo)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: tattoos & tattooing, one very light sexual reference bc i'm a hoe

a/n: i recently got my first tattoo and i’ve been absolutely obsessed with tattoos ever since, so here you go. location and design was purposefully left vague so you can imagine anything you want, but i do write reader as already having at least two tattoos.

word count: 2.9k

masterlist

Spencer’s been thinking about it for years.

Two years, eight months, and twenty days to be exact.

Looking back, four months and ten days was pretty early to be thinking of something so permanent. But he couldn’t help it—contrary to how he thinks people perceive him, he’s a romantic. A bit of a hopeless one, really.

In any case, he had been right. Almost three years after your first date, you’re still together and absolutely in love. You live together, your lives are inseparably entwined. Every day has been an affirmation of the conclusion he came to three months into your relationship—you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

So really, four months and ten days wasn’t all that early to think of getting a tattoo with you.

He doesn’t have any, but you do, and he’s always loved them. He likes running his fingers over them, pressing kisses to them, rubbing moisturizer into them, and aiding you in making sure they’re all well covered in sunscreen before you’re going to be outside for a while.

He’d never really considered getting a tattoo until he saw how much you loved yours. It’s one of your favorite forms of self-expression, you’ve told him. You say the body art helps you feel more confident, comfortable, and at home in your body. Confidence in your body—that’s definitely something he could do with. But above everything, because it’s something you love, and Spencer loves you, it’s an experience he wants to share with you.

He brings up the idea over dinner forty-five days before your three-year anniversary. You’re reading while you eat—a common occurrence in your home for the both of you. He spins his fork in his hand a few times, then carefully sets it down and says your name.

You hold up a finger to ask him to wait; he watches your eyes move across the page as you finish the paragraph you’re on. Your attention is on him as soon as you’re finished. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He’s nervous—he knows you love him, but what if you say no anyways? What if you don’t want to get a tattoo with him? They are permanent, after all. “It’s… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits.

Your eyes widen when you pick up on his anxiety. “Oh god, are you breaking up with me?”

He nearly chokes on the water he’d nervously sipped. “Wha—no, no!” he rushes to assure. “I—I love you. I don’t—I don’t ever want that.”

You take in a deep breath, carefully putting your book aside. “Alright. Okay.”

“Why would you think I was breaking up with you?” he asks, concerned about the conclusion you’d jumped to. “Are… are you not happy? Are things not good between us, for you? I thought—well, think, they are. Maybe I’m wrong? I could be. I’ve never been the best at reading social clues. Have I missed something? I’m sorry if I have. I--”

“Spence, Spencer.” You interrupt his nervous rambling and reach across the table, placing your hand on top of his. “Things are great between us for me. I love you, too. You were just so serious when you said you wanted to talk, it caught me off guard. It’s… not an uncommon way for a conversation about breaking up to start.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—I didn’t realize it could come off like that,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay. As long as we’re not breaking up, I’m happy.” You give his hand a squeeze before leaning back in your chair. “So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“Right.” He squares his shoulders and wipes his damp palms on his pants. “Our three year anniversary is in forty-five days, and I was thinking to celebrate, maybe we could… get a tattoo together?”

Immediately you break into the most beautiful smile—he’s happy to have an eidetic memory when it comes to moments like this. “Really?” you ask, body tense with excitement.

“Yeah. Really,” he confirms. “I, um… I guess you’re on board, then?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Spencer this is so exciting! Your first tattoo!”

He doesn’t bother to correct you about calling it his first. He’s got no plans to get more, so this could very well be his only tattoo. But he doesn’t want to dampen the moment, so instead he says, “I don’t really have any ideas for it. I just want to do it with you.”

“Wait here.” You disappear into the bedroom and return with a folded piece of notebook paper. It’s worn and wrinkled, the edges curled in. He unfolds it carefully to find the page covered in your handwriting. Some of the writing looks more rushed than other parts. Some sections are in blue ink, some are in black. It’s clear you’ve been compiling this list for quite a while.

He reads it at his normal, rapid pace, but it takes him a few moments to understand it. “Is this a list of…?”

You nod. “Tattoo ideas.” He looks up at you in… well, in awe, and you shrug. “I don’t want to just get your name on me, as nice as it is.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Um.” The answer seems to embarrass you a little. “A… a couple of years.”

“Years?” he repeats. “But you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured into getting a tattoo,” you say. “Since they are, you know, permanent.”

“Relatively.” He looks back to the paper, running his fingertips over the indents left by the pressure of the pen. “They naturally fade with age, and can age prematurely through sun exposure.”

“Yeah. Listen, it’s okay if you don’t like any of my ideas.”

Spencer shakes his head—he likes a lot of them, but he already knows which one he wants—he knew as soon as he read it. He points. “This one.”

You bend down to see it and smile. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

---

You handle pretty much everything, contacting one of your favorite artists and pitching the idea. You’ve been tattooed by her before—specifically, she did his favorite of your tattoos. So he’s happy to have her do this one, too, putting down the deposit without hesitation. The artwork she sends back is everything he pictured and more. She’s taken the idea and brought it to life better than he could ever hope to. A few tweaks here and there, then the date is set. You’ll be getting tattooed the Friday before your anniversary.

Yours will be done first, near the end of his work day—when he arrives, you should be just about done. It’s not exactly how he imagined it happening, but you said it would be better this way. If he sits and watches you get the entire thing done, you think he’ll end up psyching himself out about his own tattoo.

“Is it really that bad?” he had asked.

You shrug. “Well, it’s pain, so it’s obviously not super fun, but it’s tolerable. You overreacted when I stubbed my toe last week, so I think it’s probably best if you’re not there watching me the entire time.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he defends sheepishly.

“Exactly. I’ll keep you updated with texts and pictures, though, okay?”

He agrees, because honestly, you’re probably right.

Getting into bed with you the night before he asks, “What does it feel like? Besides it just hurting.”

“It’s different for everyone. It also depends on where you get it.” Spencer bumps your arm with his nose, silently requesting for you to adjust your position in a way that allows him to press as much of his body as he possibly can against yours. You place your hand in his hair once he’s settled, as usual, then continue. “It does kind of… vibrate. That’s something I didn’t expect going into my first tattoo.”

“Vibrate?” he repeats. “That’s… well, I guess it makes sense, considering how tattoo machines work.”

“Mm-hmm. But I wouldn’t worry about that part if I were you. Last time I checked, vibration isn’t a sensation that bothers you.” A very slight tug on his hair. “The opposite, actually.”

The squeak he makes is involuntary. “I, um… okay. I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s treated to a little laugh, but then your tone changes. “Seriously, though, Spencer. It’s okay if it ends up being too much, or just not for you, and you can’t finish the tattoo. Or if you just don’t want to finish it. I won’t be mad.”

He’s taken by surprise at first. It is a worry that he’s been harboring, that all the sensory input will be too much, but he’s never said anything about it, so how did you know?

Then again, it’s you. Of course you know. You always do.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

---

“Hey, how can I help you?”

Spencer looks up from his phone to the woman who’s just come into the front of the shop from the back. As promised, you’d kept him updated on your tattoo process with texts and pictures.

“Um, I—I have an appointment?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s really nervous—you were definitely right to have him come in later than you so he doesn’t have enough time to get really worked up.

“Who’s it with?”

“Megan.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Megan is currently with someone. I can go ask her how long the wait will be.”

“No, it’s okay, she’s working on my partner. We’re—we’re getting tattoos together,” he explains.

“Oh, fun! I’ll lead you back, then.”

He follows her to an open doorway. Your body is still and unmoving; Megan is hunched over your skin. You smile when you see him. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Hey. Um, how’s it going?”

You sigh. “Well, to be honest, I think this is going to be my last tattoo.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Megan says without looking up.

The little angry huff you make before replying with “I know” makes him smile, and his nerves settle a little. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Spencer can tell it’s just a rhetorical question, asked in good humor, but he can’t stop himself from answering it regardless.

“There are many different reasons that could drive someone to get a tattoo despite the pain, including the adrenaline and endorphins the body produces in response to pain, stress relief, and the need for creative expression.”

“Stress relief?” you repeat. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“It is a strange concept at face value. An example, though, would be getting a tattoo to mark the end of a difficult period in your life. Some people get them to symbolize personal difficulties or trauma, or to memorialize people they’ve lost. It can be a form of catharsis that helps them process painful emotions, memories, or other stressful feelings.”

Your head tilts as you take the information in. “That’s interesting.”

“Alright.” Megan leans back. “It’s done. Go take a look.”

Spencer follows you to the full length mirror. “Oh, wow,” you breathe out as soon as you see it. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Spencer.” You touch his arm. “What do you think?”

It takes him a few moments to answer because he’s been overcome with emotion. He’s overwhelmed with just how much you love and care for him to have permanently embedded a reminder of him into your skin. “It’s perfect,” he whispers.

“It is,” you agree.

You return to Megan and she takes a few photos of the tattoo, promising to text them to you, then gets started on the aftercare. “You know the drill,” she says, but still gives you the instructions for what to do as the artwork heals. He only barely registers what she’s saying—his eyes are glued to the tattoo.

“Okay, let me get everything switched out and cleaned up, and then we can start on yours, Spencer.”

“Hmm?” He tears his gaze away to find Megan looking at him. “Oh, right. Okay.” He sits off to the side with you while she disposes of supplies, replaces them with new, sterile ones, and wipes everything down.

She works fast—before he knows it, Megan has shaved and cleaned his skin, and has him in front of the mirror as she places the stencil. It takes a few tries to get it just right. He apologizes when she has to print the stencil again, but she waves him off. “It’s your tattoo and it’s going to be on you forever. I want you to be one-hundred percent happy with the placement.”

His nerves spike back up when he’s settled down and all ready to be tattooed. You sit in a chair on the opposite side of him than Megan, and when you offer your hand, he grabs it immediately.

“Breathe, baby,” you say gently. “Try not to tense up too much.”

He does try, but still jumps a little when Megan’s gloved hand touches him. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she reassures. “I won’t start until you’re ready.”  

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. I’ll start with just one small line.”

It’s a strange sensation, unlike anything he’s felt before, but it’s… not horrible. He’s been scratched by cats in the past, and it feels kind of like that, but hot. There’s the vibrating you had mentioned, too.

“How was that?” Megan asks.

“Not so bad,” he answers honestly.

“That’s great. I’ll keep going then. Settle in. Just let me know if you start feeling funny or if you need a break, alright?” At his nod, she goes to work, and he switches his attention to you. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’ll probably come back to bite him in the ass, but he can’t stop himself from teasing you.

“I don’t know why you were complaining earlier,” he says in his best innocent voice, with his best innocent expression. “It’s not that bad.”

The way your mouth drops open just a little bit is adorable, and so is the noise of disbelief that follows. “Yeah, okay. Tell me that again at the end.”

“I will,” he replies, mentally adding probably not to the sentence.

You roll your eyes and let go of his hand to sort through your things. You give him a lollipop when you find it.

“What’s this for?” Suckers aren’t really his favorite candy.

“Your adrenaline is probably going to drop now that the tattoo has started and I don’t want you to pass out,” you say. “The sugar will help prevent you from getting lightheaded.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

The tattoo goes well overall, he thinks. It’s definitely painful, but like you said, it’s tolerable. He’s certainly felt worse. Near the end, though, he really starts hurting, and a grimace slips across his face.

“She’s almost done,” you reassure. He hasn’t been looking at it, but you have. “Also, what was that you saying earlier?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “It’s not even the needle, you know. It’s the paper towels.”

“A lot of people say that,” Megan says. “Just a few more minutes left.”

He spends those last few minutes questioning every decision he’s made in his life that has led him to this moment, and swearing to himself that he’s never going to do this again. But then it’s over and he’s looking at in the mirror, and it’s suddenly like the past five minutes never happened.

Spencer loves it. He absolutely adores it. Not just the art itself, but how it looks on his body and how it’s making him feel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, making him jump a little. He’d been so fixated on the tattoo that he didn’t notice you joining him.

He ponders for a moment to find the right words. “I’m beginning to understand why you like doing this so much.”

You grin. “It’s great, huh?”

“It is, yeah. I kind of want to touch it; is that weird?”

“No, but don’t,” you reply. “It’s an open wound.”

“I know.” He looks back at Megan. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Thank you for trusting me with your first tattoo.”

When he drags himself away from the mirror, she goes over aftercare with him, and he listens more intently this time. A few things are going to be a little inconvenient, he thinks, but it’s more than worth the trade off.

You take his hand as you leave the shop. “I’m so happy that I got to do that with you.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Me too.”

You reach the car, but before he can move towards the passenger side, you pull him in close. “I love you.”

His free hand comes up to cradle your cheek. “I love you, too.”

You kiss him, soft and sweet. “Happy three years,” you say when you pull back.

“Here’s to three more?” he offers, a little nervous, but mostly hopeful.

Your smile leaves no room for doubt. “I like the sound of that.”

---------------

hit up my inbox if you wanna talk tattoos bc i fucking love them. what do you see spencer getting with his partner?

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[triggerhappyimagines]

How about the V3 boys, (the ones who died) with a s/o whos the Ultimate Spirit Medium/Necromancer and they call the spirit of the dead character? I just wanna see some scenarios/hc's of that, if u could do it that'd be gr8! If not thats okay, i understand ^^

hey everyone, long time no see! sorry for sort of vanishing for a while, i’ve been super busy with school and my job and kind of lost interest in danganronpa for a little bit,,,, but i’m back and i’m gonna try my best to get through the requests in our inbox and maybe even try and finish a few more of the october prompts (if you guys would still be interested in seeing those!!).

anyways, sorry for the long wait on your request, anon! this was one i had started a few months ago back when i was writing regularly and i finally buckled down and finished it!! i decided to do all the v3 boys (except kiibo because uhhh hes a robot) instead of just the ones who died in canon to avoid spoilers for anyone who hasn’t finished the game yet!! i apologize if some of these seem repetitive i sorta started running out of ideas by the end lmao. i hope you enjoy, anon!

warnings: mentions of death/dying (obviously), general angst

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Shuichi Saihara

— to say the least, Shuichi is a little shaken up now that he’s gone and you’re... well, not.

— he always told you he’d stay by your side forever, and he feels guilty. he feels like he broke a promise

— but... you talk to him again that first night. you say his name and look straight at him. can you see him? no, it couldn’t be... right?

— of course, once he puts all the pieces together, it all makes sense

— you’re the ultimate spirit medium, for goodness sakes! of course you can see him and speak to him the same way you would any other living person

— after a while, Shuichi stops feeling so guilty for leaving you. partially because it doesn’t feel quite like he’s abandoned you, and also because you reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong by dying

— i mean, come on, it’s not his fault he got killed! how could you ever hold that against him?

— still, it takes him some time to come to terms with everything.

— though he loves you, he still finds it sad that he can never speak to anyone else ever again. at least, not without your aid.

— but as long as he has you by his side to help him cope... he knows he’ll be alright

— after all, he loves you, and you love him. and that’s enough to give him the strength he needs to keep from falling apart.

Rantaro Amami

— he's still very protective of you, despite the fact he’s merely a spirit now

— he’s always right by your side, no matter what.

— even when you aren’t able to take a moment to talk to him, or even look in his direction, Rantaro is right there

— if he were still alive, the way he now follows you around all the time may seem obsessive and creepy, but you actually appreciate it

— nobody else can see or speak to him but you, which makes his constant presence comforting, in a way

— Rantaro isn’t able to touch you in the same way he could when he was alive, but nonetheless, he still tries

— he’ll try to place his hand atop yours, or wrap his arms around your figure, but he always just passes straight through you

— you find the chill that blossoms on your skin where he touched you comforting; it’s a reminder that even though he’s gone, he’s still there with you

— it breaks his heart that he can’t truly be with you, but he tries not to focus on his own problems too much

— after all, your happiness is much more important to him than his own; you are his priority

— you’ll have to remind him that it’s okay for him to be sad, and that he shouldn’t bottle up his own emotions to be there for you

— he’ll want to keep being the person to take care of you, and watch out for you, but he needs you to be that person for him

Kokichi Ouma

— you didn’t really think Kokichi would start behaving himself just because he’s dead, did you?

— honestly he uses the fact only you can see and speak to him to his advantage

— good luck trying to keep your cool around other people while he’s off being a clown right in front of you

— but of course, he’s not all fun and games

— i mean... he’s dead. and that sucks

— he probably won’t show it, at least not right away, but he doesn’t like the feeling of separation between you two

— sure, he’s still around, but not like before. before, he could surprise you with a kiss or a suffocating hug, but he just can’t do that anymore

— it hurts. really bad.

— but he knows he’ll be okay. he know’s he’ll get used to it someday, as long as he has you with him to cheer him up when he gets especially sad

— you’re his sunshine, and he may not show it, but he needs you. so don’t leave him all alone, okay?

Gonta Gokuhara

— lets be honest... Gonta has the hardest time of the bunch adjusting to being nothing more than a spirit

— you’ll likely have to give him a lot of comfort. he’s confused, and he misses being able to be with you for real :(

— the hardest part for him is no longer being able to touch you

— he longs to feel your lips press gently against his cheek, to lay in your lap as your hands comb through his hair... he’d give anything to hold you in his arms again...

— unlike Rantaro, he’s not content with merely passing through your body when he makes contact with you

— it just... upsets him. it’s a cruel reminder that his life ended, and that he will never get to hold you, kiss you, and just love you the way he could before his life ended

— be patient with him, please... he’ll adapt eventually... but it could take a while

— just make sure to remind him how much you love him, he’ll need a lot of reassurance and comfort from you

Kaito Momota

— surprisingly, Kaito adapts to the situation pretty well

— if he is struggling with any sort of major emotions, he’s doing a stellar job of hiding it from you. and you hate that

— you don’t totally believe him when he says he’s okay, or when he tells you not to worry about him

— you know him better than that. it doesn’t make sense to you. he just died for crying out loud! he can never follow his dreams, never have the future he always wanted with you

— and you don’t understand how he can just shrug all that off and continue being your boyfriend like normal

— you confront him about it one night. he’s laying on his back, hovering beside you as you read (Kaito loves being able to float around in midair. perks of being a ghost, right?)

— "how can you be okay?" you blurt out suddenly. he looks at you, confused.

— you continue, asking all the questions that had been gnawing at you for days, and when you finally finish, he just laughs

— "of course i’m upset. but it’s a man’s job to protect the ones he loves! and being there for you is much more important than staying upset about this." he explains

— you can’t help but feel a little stupid. he’d always put you first, always prioritized your needs over anyone else’s, even his own. and he wasn’t about to stop just because he died

— fortunately for you, he isn’t upset with you sort of asking him why the hell he wasn’t a huge, depressed mess.

— in fact, he thinks it’s really sweet that, despite the fact you should be worried about yourself so you don’t end up joining him in the afterlife, you spent your energy fussing over him

Korekiyo Shinguji

— with Kiyo, not much changes. at least, not on his end.

— he’s very fascinated by the mere notion of being a spirit and has the time of his life unlife getting used to his new body

— at first you’re happy for him. i mean, it’s good that he’s not struggling, right? shouldn’t you want him to feel okay? you wouldn’t want him to suffer in sadness like you, right?

— but he’s so enthralled with his new state of being he... almost forgets to check up on you

— and even when he does spend time with you, it almost feels like all he does is talk about himself and the new things he’s discovered about being a spirit

— it’s frustrating, to say the least. you know you didn’t truly lose him, but it feels like you did

— when you finally tell him that you feel like he’s changed, he’s confused

— when Kiyo hears you say how much you miss him, how you feel like he’s so different now, he’s kinda just like ???????

— how could he be different? it’s still him, don’t you know that?

— after a long night of reflecting while you sleep (not needing rest is one of the many perks of being a spirit), Kiyo realizes what he’s been doing wrong

— you used to love when he’d talk to you endlessly about his work, his research, etc.

— but now, when he’d ramble on for hours about new things he’d learned thanks to being a mere spirit, it was just another painful reminder to you that he was dead. that he was gone.

— the moment he gets a chance, he apologizes to you. it’s a bit of an emotional moment for both of you, being the first time either of you have confronted the end of Kiyo’s life head on

— he tries to hold you, but all you feel is an icy chill where his flesh would have met yours, but oddly enough... it doesn’t make you feel worse

— you’d anticipated another tsunami of your own tears after Kiyo’s body passed through yours, but it’s comforting, albeit in a morbid way

— he’s gone, but you haven’t lost him. and you’ll never lose him; he’ll remind you of that every day if he has to

Ryoma Hoshi

— man, if you thought ryoma’s attitude and general outlook on life was depressing before, you’ve got a big storm coming

— for a long time after his death, he’s very... cold. to everyone and everything

— he’s upset. but not because he’s dead, but because he can’t protect you anymore

— being there for you, to defend you and keep you safe, had become his raison d’être, so to speak

— he knows you can still see him and talk to him. he’s not stupid. but he pretends he doesn’t hear you at first. part of him thinks that if he shuts you out long enough, you’ll come to your senses and realize you should be upset with him

— but you never do. despite what he thinks he deserves, you never turn on him, never give up on him, never stop loving him

— with time, he’ll come around and start learning to cope with his own death, and the fact you outlived him

— and you’ll be there with him every step of the way (whether he likes it or not)

[illfoandillfie]

Okay first a smutty one 😏 smth where ben is like super bored and it’s a rainy day and reader keeps suggesting different things they could do like board games or baking etc but he shoots everything down until finally she’s like ok you come up with smth geez and then he just tackles her and they Do It

thank you for giving me excuses to be a whore about ben sdkjsdllkdjskjsd I just really enjoy writing smut with these two cause they're such dorks and just like making each other laugh which is cute and fun.

Anyway, I did not proof read this or anything because I finished writing it at 12.40 am (ahhhh help i need to be up for work in 5 and a half hours) so apologies for any mistakes.

Words: 2,566

Warnings: Smut (obviously), a lil hint of oral (f receiving), some fingering, a single slap on the arse.

Ben jerked aside the curtain hanging over the bedroom window, humming in discontent as he confirmed that it was still raining. “Stop checking the window Ben,” you sighed, only half paying attention to him over your novel, “You heard the weather report, it won’t let up for another day at least.” “Well you know weather presenters are wrong half the time,” You chose to ignore him, much more interested in the book.  Unfortunately for you, Ben still had some complaining to get out of his system.  “I’m so sick of this weather. You know we were meant to be playing cricket today,” “Mmhmm,” “I like rain as much as the next person but this is fucking ridiculous.” “Just invite some of the others over then,” you said, pulling your eyes from the page in the hopes that displaying your interest now would give you ample time to read later, “play video games or something,” “It’s not the same,” You could have laughed at Ben’s expression as his gave another wistful glance at the window. He’d always vaguely reminded you of a puppy, especially when he got excited about something, but the comparison was even more obvious now. He’d checked the window about six times over the course of the morning, each time looking crestfallen when no blue sky had materialised. The constant downpour seemed to be driving him bonkers. You, on the other hand, were coping quite well if you said so yourself. Aside from having to work on the first two days of the rain, you’d used the dreary weather as an excuse to stay in bed, wearing your comfies, drinking steaming mugs of tea and coffee, as you read and played games on your laptop. At first you’d hoped that Ben would be similarly inclined, and you’d pictured scenes of the two of you cozied up on the couch or cooking a hot, comforting meal together. Proper rainy day stuff. Alas, Ben wasn’t interested in sitting still, preferring to wander around the house, looking through curtains and complaining about what he saw through them. Hardly surprising really since he’d been indoors indulging in warm comfort those first days while you were working. When he didn’t get much sympathy from you, Ben left the bedroom again, (heading off to try a different window you assumed) and let you get back to your book.

You lost track of time, thoroughly enjoying yourself as you snuggled into your nest, sitting up straight when you got to a particularly intense section. Once the action calmed down you rearranged the pillows to give your back a little more support and settled into the story once more. Ben did cross your mind once or twice in slower chapters, but only because the absence of his frustrated sighing was notable. Eventually he reappeared in the room though, almost sulky in the way he slumped towards you, collapsing face down across the width of the bed.  “What’s up Blondie?” You kept your eyes fixed to the page.  “’m bored,” “So find something to do,” “There’s nothing to do here.” “You could read with me,” you shifted your hands on the book, holding it open as you moved one hand to tap the spot on the bed beside you. “Nah, don’t feel like reading.” Sensing that the conversation wouldn’t be a quick one you focused your attention on Ben, “If you let me finish this chapter then we could play a board game.” Ben pushed himself up but gave a non-committal shrug.” “Or watch a movie?” “Nah, I don’t want to just sit around,” “Well Rach gave me that recipe book for Christmas right? We could bake something? Or...” Feeling a little more frustrated you scanned the room for inspiration. Where once you’d only seen Ben’s trinkets and collected items, you now saw a mix of things that belonged to both of you. Your books were next to his on the shelf, the lucky cat you’d bought him was accompanied by a figurine of your zodiac symbol that he’d picked up on a whim, the desk was a mess of printed out guitar chords and notebooks that contained scribbles in both of your handwriting as well as a few stray lipsticks and earrings. But none of it really sparked any ideas to occupy Ben.  “You could give this room a tidy,” it wasn’t a serious suggestion but you made it anyway, knowing it would be shot down. “See, there’s nothing to do here!” “Well I don’t then Ben. You don’t like any of my suggestions, so come up with something yourself. Just please stop moping around, it’s giving me the shits.”

You dropped your eyes back to your book, waiting to feel the bed shift as Ben stood and the sound of him crossing the room to the door. Instead there was silence for a moment. And the next thing you knew was being knocked back, just barely managing to hold onto your book, so you were lying across the bed with Ben on top of you. “I found something I want to do,” he said, resting his chin on your chest and giving you his best pleading puppy eyes. “Oh alright,” you said, trying not to laugh, “But let me mark my page so I don’t lose my place.” Ben lifted his head as he reached over and plucked the, slightly crushed, book from between you, replacing your bookmark before dropping it to the floor. “There’s a bedside table right th-” before you could finish your sentence, Ben leaned down again and kissed you. It was a deep kiss, Ben’s tongue pressing towards your throat as he gently grinded his hips against yours. You were nearly breathless when he pulled away and yet it felt like it had barely started.  “Someone’s in a hurry,” you said, watching as Ben hurriedly began to undress you, peeling your leggings off before going for your shirt. “Well,” he said, pausing appreciatively as he realised you hadn’t bothered with a bra, “Now that I’m thinking about your pussy....”  You laughed as he snapped the band of your underpants to emphasis his point and then quickly rolled them down your legs too.  “Well, here she is,” you bit your lip playfully as you spread your legs, offering Ben a view to rival his imagination. Ben grinned, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth before he leaned towards your cunt, holding your gaze. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he stuck his tongue further out and licked along your slit, noting the way you shivered in delight. You hummed as he repeated the action, settling back against the mattress as Ben settled into a rhythm. But, just as you were really starting to enjoy it, the first sign of your arousal pooling between your legs, Ben stopped.

With a slight groan of disappointment you pushed yourself up to see if there was a partiuclar reason he’d stopped touching you. The sight of Ben, rolled onto his back, legs in the air as his discarded his own pants and underwear, greeted you. Apparently he’d already managed to get his shirt off in the time it took you to sit up. You couldn’t help but giggle as his feet flicked through the air, trying to kick his pants off.  “And what is so funny?” “Nothing, Tiger. Just enjoying the show.” “Oh yeah? You like that, huh? Well what about,” Ben’s feet fell back to the bed and he raised his hips into the air as his fingers caught the waistband of his briefs.  You cheered him on as he tugged them down to this thighs and then raised his legs again to pull them off entirely. His arse was completely on display for you and you couldn’t quite resist the sudden urge to lean over and swat his cheek. “You’re a freak,” he laughed, flipping himself over and crawling towards you. Both of you were still laughing as he kissed you again, the comforting weight of his body pinning your down. You could feel the length of his dick resting against your thigh so slid your hand down to stroke it, feeling yourself getting wetter as he hardened against your palm.  “Why don’t you touch yourself for me Kitten,” Ben cooed, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your wrist, “Promise I don’t need any help getting ready for you.”  Your breath caught at the petname, a recent addition to your sexual dynamic but a fun one, and you did as Ben suggested, letting his guide your hand away from his cock. You were wet but not quite enough to take him comfortably. Ben kissed you again as your dragged your fingers through your folds, but it didn’t last long. He wanted to watch, sitting back on his knees to get a proper look at your fingers circling your clit.  “That’s right, keep going like that. I want to see you leaking over the sheets.” You were beginning to feel the familiar want growing in the pit of your stomach. That empty feeling that only Ben could properly fix. You groaned and let your fingers trail down towards your entrance. But before you could sink any of them into the wet heat of your cunt, you felt your walls softly stretch around one of Ben’s.  “Is that what you needed Kitten?” “Yeah, thanks,” you managed to get out between shaky breaths, resuming the previous attention on your clit. “Any time,” Ben chuckled, slowly pulling his finger out of you, circling your hole, and sliding it back in a little deeper. You keened as Ben began to finger you, getting the one finger as deep as he could before he added a second.  Your orgasm grew steadily closer as you adjusted to the width of his fingers and Ben’s touch became less delicate, your own speeding up with his. And then his touch disappeared.

For the second time you looked up, pushing yourself to rest on one elbow, wondering where he’d gone and why he was teasing you. You kept working your fingers over your clit but it wasn’t quite the same and you couldn’t help but whine as you felt the loss acutely.  Ben didn’t bother to reply. Words would just waste time. Instead he grasped one of your shins, adjusting your leg so it was closer to your body but spread further, as he shuffled forward on his knees. His dick was harder than when you’d felt it before and he wrapped his fist around the stiff length to guide it towards your waiting pussy.  You’d thought his fingers had felt good but it was nothing to the way he filled you then, pulling a moan from you faster than you’d have believed possible. Ben leaned forward on his knees as he sank into you, pulling out slowly after a moment and then pushing forward again, letting you get used to feeling.  “C’mon Benny, fuck me,” you whined, the fingers on your clit faltering as he gave you a sharp thrust, “Yeah, like that.”  Ben nodded, looking as if just swallowing was a challenge, let alone getting out words. He dropped his hands to your stomach, slowly sliding them up until he was cupping your breasts, his thumb and forefinger circling around the underside of them so he could feel them bounce with each jolt of his hips.  You tried to keep rubbing your clit but keeping yourself upright was a struggle so you shifted your hand away, better able to prop yourself up on two elbows than just the one.  Ben didn’t seem to mind, focusing his energy on fucking you hard and deep. It seemed that, now he was inside you, his eagerness had been tempered and he had no qualms with drawing the moment out.  “Jesus Y/N,” he grunted as you clenched without warning, his hips stuttering out of time as you kept him from drawing back as far as he had been.  You just whined in response.  “Fuck this is hot. Watching how you take me. How perfect your cunt looks stretched open on my cock. I’m going to fuck you until your cunt is red and sore from how well I’ve used it. And I’m going to watch the whole time.” You whined again, louder and more urgently, as his words went straight to your core, making you clench again.  “Does that mean you want to cum?” Ben teased, knowing full well how close you were getting.  It was harder to see the funny side of his comments when your whole body felt tense with an impending orgasm. The torturous stopping and starting he’d put you through had only heightened your need and the lack of clitoral stimulation made you desperate for more. Ben had managed to get you off with just penetration once or twice but it was never as good as the combination of his dick moving inside you and your clit being played with. And he knew that’s how you liked to get off best.

Ben gave your breast a quick squeeze before he shifted his hand, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it. You clenched at the sudden added stimulation and moaned, loudly, your orgasm rocketing towards you as you balled the sheets up in your fists. Your arms felt unstable as Ben speared into you harder, trying to push you over the edge, perfectly filling you.  “Oh, oh, oh!” you choked out, right on the precipice of release.  Ben grit his teeth as his hips slammed towards yours a few times, his balls slapping against you with the motion.  It was enough. A final push to get you over the edge, the cry of ecstasy catching in your throat along with your breath. Ben swore and groaned as your pussy tightened with your release, making an effort to keep fucking you, though it wasn’t easy to maintain an even pace.  You managed to choke out his name as your arms gave out and you collapsed on your back, panting.  Ben pulled out but you barely noticed, so overtaken by the warm pleasure of your orgasm. It wasn’t until he grunted and you felt the first drops of his cum hitting your stomach that you realised he’d wanked himself off over you. You lay still as spurt after spurt hit you, watching as well as you could as his fist continued to pump over his length, milking every last drop from his cock.  Finally he sat back, sounding a little breathless.  Slowly you pushed yourself to sit up, “Well?” “Well what?” “Did you get it out of your system? Can you just sit and read or whatever for a while now?” Ben shrugged, “It helped. Might get bored again pretty soon though,” You laughed, “Well don’t expect a repeat any time soon. I’m quite content to finish my book.” “Aww c’mon,” Ben was struggling not to smile too much, “Don’t pretend you weren’t extremely turned on by the idea of fucking you until you’re sore.” You ignored him, turning towards the beside draws so you could find something to clean up with. “You could keep reading if you wanted. Wouldn’t have to do anything except lie there, I promise. And I’d just fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until I wasn’t bored anymore.” You gave a thoughtful hum, “Just lie there you say?”