#i want to shower but its 2 in the damn morning by the time i finally feel up to it

[newluvrs]

Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: VENUS AS A BOY - BJORK word count: 3k bb note: sungchan is so Venus as a boy coded

Its 4:37 a.m. when you finally close your laptop for the evening.  Your skin feels like shit and you’re practically vibrating from the amount of espresso shots that were in your iced latte.  You haven’t moved from your desk since noon, only taking miniature breaks to go take a piss and grab a quick snack.  Finals week always makes you feel barely human.  When you finally turn off dnd on your phone, your met with a trillion notifications, but only a specific person holds all your attention.  Your heart lurches when you see Sungchan’s name under missed calls, you almost feel guilty recalling your demand you made earlier this week, almost. 

-

“Are you serious?”

“Sungchan, please I am quite literally begging.” 

“Baby, I just don’t understand why you don’t want to study with me...” 

You know damn well he knows why and just wants to make you say it.  You look at him with a bored expression on your face.

“You’re distracting.”

When he feigns confusion at your simple response, you roll your eyes before continuing.  

“Fine.  If you want me to be vulgar I’ll be vulgar.  We both know that I want to fuck you all the time.  You know that it only gets worse when I��m stressed.  I can’t sit there with you and just study when 90% of the time all I can think about is jumping your bones.”

“90% of the time, huh?” 

You want to kiss the stupid smug grin off of his face, but you settle instead for turning your back to him, trying to steel your resolve.  

“It’ll only be a week… it can’t be that hard, right?”

-

Except that’s absolutely not true because why would he ever make things easy for you?  It’s only been a few days since, and you can no longer count on both hands the amount of times you have had to stop yourself from driving to his place. It’s not even his fault, for the most part.  Your boyfriend is just so hot.  You swear BeReal is plotting against you when the timer has just so happened to go off every day this week when he’s in the gym.  How are you supposed to contain yourself when he walks around looking like that, and always so willing to give you what you want.  You’ve had to pause in the middle of studying a couple of times this week just to get yourself off.  Truly you are no better than a man.  

Sungchan himself has pleaded with you a couple of times to just let him come see you.  Trying to explain to you that you’re being ridiculous.  In his head he can’t understand why you won’t just let him be there to help relieve your stress.  He knows that you’re the insatiable one in this relationship.  You having explained to him after you first slept together that your sex drive tended to be high.  And he’s always been more than willing to help you out, whether it be fucking you exactly the way you need after a long day or bringing you to a tender release with his mouth first thing in the morning before you go to work.  He knows exactly what you need when you need it, so he can’t understand why you’re torturing yourself (and him) now. 

chan <3: plz let me come over 

Needless to say you absolutely weren’t expecting to receive a message from him this late at night.  

You: Why r u up??? 

chan <3: ochem :/

chan <3: I need to see u :(

You want to ignore the message, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t subconsciously press your thighs together.  All you’ve been able to think about since you last saw him is how bad you need him.  You can only do so much with your own fingers, and each time you get off has just been less and less satisfying.  Before you even get a chance to respond another message comes through. 

chan <3: im coming over

Immediately you rush to jump in the shower, not exactly feeling the most desirable in the ratty t-shirt you’ve been wearing for the last 2 days and your unwashed hair.  You tell yourself you’re not gonna let him stay over.  That all you’re gonna do is give him a quick kiss and a hug, just so that both of you can see that the other is doing fine.  And then you’re gonna tell him that you’ll see him in a few more days, after your last exam.  You say this to yourself even as you forego throwing on a bra.  You say this to yourself again as you pull up your sleeping shorts without putting on any underwear.  You tell yourself this one last time as you climb under your sheets, making yourself comfortable against your pillows.  When the familiar sound of your apartment door unlocking finally comes, you feel yourself become nervous suddenly, voice shaking as you holler that you’re in your bedroom.  

You try your best to act like you weren’t waiting for him, but you fail when as soon as you see him standing in your doorway you immediately open your arms wide for him to join you.  He lays himself next to you in your bed, wrapping his arms around your middle resting his head on your chest as you leave kisses on his forehead.  Immediately you feel comforted by his presence, your mood doing a 180. The both of you stay like this for a moment, just holding each other, feeling the exhaustion in your bones.  It’s him who breaks the silence. 

“Missed you.”  

He looks up at you when he says it, his tired eyes making your heart turn.  You can tell that he also just showered, his hair slightly damp and face covered in a light sheen from his skincare products, pimple patches and all.  You love being with him like this, tired and both of your faces bare, it feels like the both of you truly see each other.  

“”m so tired.” 

You sigh as you rub your eyes, truly you’re so exhausted.  Stress has been wrecking your body and making you feel wound too tight.  Not seeing Sungchan has only made it worse, making you feel touch starved and lonely on top of everything else.  He can already tell without you having to say it that it’s been a long couple of days for you.  He knows how hard you can push yourself to succeed.  Being told your whole life that you’re a hard worker only fueled your anxieties of being the best you could be, afraid to let everyone down.

“Let me take care of you.”  

You look down at him still resting his chin on your chest as he says so, his pretty lips pulled into a pout.  

“Just want to help you relieve your stress, will you let me do that for you baby?”  

You feel your pussy throb at this.  It makes you feel good to know that just as much as you always want Sungchan, he always wants you too.  When you don’t say anything he moves to slot himself between your legs, planting soft kisses against your jaw.

“I need to make my pretty girl feel good.  All I’ve been able to think about these last few days is fucking you.”

You can feel that he’s already half-hard as he rocks his hips against yours, a gentle sigh falling from your mouth at the smallest bit of pleasure.  

“..please.”  

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s pushing your shirt up to your hips, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you fully against him.  He moves his lips gently against yours as you softly moan into his mouth.  You feel so sleepy even right now, everything feeling like a dream as he grinds against you, panting into your mouth.  

“Felt like I was going crazy without you.  I was waiting for a call from you, telling me that you needed me and I was ready to drop everything.  You’re all I could think about.”  

You might be the insatiable one in this relationship but Sungchan is a close second.  For every time that you needed him to make you feel good, there was a time where he needed to make you feel good.  There’s nothing in this world hotter to him than the effect he has on you.  

“Your stupid fucking BeReals made me have to take several… study breaks.”  

Your ears burn hot as you admit this, casting your eyes to between your bodies watching as Sungchan rolls his hips into yours.  Heat blooming in your chest seeing the way the two of you fit perfectly together.

“I wanted to cave so many times… I’m happy you came over.” 

His heart swells in his chest hearing you say this. Placing a tender kiss against your cheek before he pulls away to pull your shorts off.  When he comes face to face with your bare cunt when he was expecting panties, he feels like he’s gonna combust.  

“Jesus y/n, you drive me fucking crazy.”  

He wants to be cocky about it, tease you for having such shit resolve when it comes to him, but he’s so hard it hurts.  You look so soft and tender, hair still damp from the shower, your old t-shirt still on along with your glasses.  He leans on an elbow as he reaches a hand down to play with you, when his fingers brush against your core you’re already soaked. When he looks up at you in silent awe your hands are covering your face, trying to shy away from his gaze.  

“I can’t help it..” You mumble out from behind your hands.  

He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer, slipping two fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness.  He rubs them along your clit briefly just to hear your gasps, rutting his cock against your thigh as he does so.  He moves to pull your hands away from your face as he lines his fingers up with your hole.  Pressing them in he revels in the way you shut your eyes in bliss, mouth falling open.  He feels cocky now, smirking to himself at the way you moan when he crooks them up once they’re fully inside, rubbing up against your top wall.  

“Sungchan fuck..” 

You reach out for him, pulling him down to kiss you while his fingers play with you.  You stay like this for awhile, just making out as his fingers play with you.  He slides in a third to feel the way you gasp into his mouth.  When you arch your chest into his he almost dies at the way he can feel your nipples through your t-shirt.  

“You’re so needy, baby.”  

He presses kisses all over your face as he says this, sliding his fingers out of you to give your clit some more attention.  

“Why are your clothes still on.. this is so unfair.” 

He laughs to himself when you say this, finding it cute the way you try to make demands even as your body is twitching, caving in on itself from the pleasure.  

“Sorry baby, ‘m just gonna make you cum like this real quick, and then I’ll take them off, deal?” 

You can’t even process what he’s saying anymore, just nodding your head as you rock your hips up into his hand.  He slips his fingers back into your cunt, palm grinding into your clit as he finger fucks you.  You’re so distracted by his fingers you don’t even notice that he’s pushed your shirt up to your tits until you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples.  Unsure what to do with your hands, all you can do is claw at the sheets, body so overwhelmed from the pleasure.

You cum just like this, the only warning Sungchan gets is the way your body seizes up, your moans reaching a whinier pitch.  He groans at the feeling of you sporadically clenching around his fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm.  Only coming to a halt when you try and push his hand away.  You shudder as he pulls his fingers out, your throat feeling dry as you lay there, boneless.  He’s tender with the way he treats you after, leaving kisses all over your face.  

“So good to me baby, you feel better?”

You nod your head, slowly blinking, still trying to come down from your first high.  When you finally find the words to speak there’s only one thing you can say.

“Goddamn.”

You don’t even care that he smirks to himself at your comment, he deserves to be cocky right now.  When he moves back between your legs, you can already feel heat blooming again, setting your nerves alight.  You can see how hard he is through his sweats, dick straining against the fabric.  Sungchan already knows that cumming once is never enough for you, which is why you want to slap the smug grin off of his face when you hear him ask,

“You want to go again?” 

When you glare at him trying to seem threatening, he can only laugh at how cute you are.  Bringing his lips to yours to kiss the pout off your face.  He leans back on his heels to pull his long sleeve over his head.  You feel yourself throb when you see his body.  You were never one to care about muscles or whether or not someone goes to the gym, but you can’t help but admire all of Sungchan’s hard work.  

“Chan, you’re so handsome.” 

Sungchan feels himself blush at the compliment, filling with pride when you admire him so openly.  He goes to pull down his sweats, freeing his dick from the restrictive fabric.  

“You’re gonna sit there and tease me for not wearing panties, when you show up at my door without boxers on under your sweats?”  

You can’t even sound mean right now because you just feel desperate.  Trying to sound authoritative while simultaneously spreading your legs a little wider to make room for him.  

“Can’t help it I needed to make myself easily accessible to my baby.”  

Now it’s your turn to blush, rolling your eyes like you’re not affected.  He digs a condom from his pocket before sliding it on, you want to make a joke about why it was there in the first place, but the joke dies in your throat when he’s finally lining himself up between your legs.  He runs the head of his cock up and down your slit a few times before finally, finally, pushing in to your wet heat.  The stretch is so good, as he gentle eases himself into you, bringing a hand to thumb at your clit.  The slide easy with how wet you already were from your previous orgasm.  Sungchan loves the way your body opens up for him so easily.  

When he finally bottoms out, both of you just sit there panting.  You take in the sleepy look on Sungchan’s face and think about how yours must mirror his, recalling how it’s close to 6 a.m. now.  You bring a hand up to his cheek, just looking at him as you whine from how deep he feels in you, making you feel so full.  When you finally nod for him to start moving, he pulls out slowly before pushing back in just as slowly, hips reaching deep within you.  Sungchan knows that now is one of those times where you just needed to feel him close.  He fucks you just like this, slow but making sure to sink all the way in each time so you feel full.  

You’re so tired your eyes are starting to slip closed at the pleasure, just feeling so good and so sleepy.  Sungchan sees this and brings himself up to murmur against your ear.

“‘m I fucking you good?”  

All you can do is nod your head, gasping out each time he reaches deep within you.  

“’m I fucking you like you deserve?”  

When he feels you clench around him he keeps talking.

“My needy girl deserves to be fucked exactly how she likes.  You’ve been working so hard baby, just let me take care of you.  Let your pretty boy fuck you good.”  

Sungchan pulls away to rest his head in the crook of your neck, hips picking up the pace.  You bring a shaky hand to the one he has stationed by your head, urging him to lace his fingers with yours.  His heart feeling tender at the action, the gentle affection a heavy contrast to the way his hips are repeatedly rutting into yours.  The both of you are fighting to stay awake, fueled by the need to get each other off.  Sungchan knows you’re close when your moans start to change in pitch.

“You gonna cum?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you hum a simple “mhm” back to him.  Sungchan uses all the energy he has left to fuck into that tender spot within you, hips refusing to let up.  

“Cum pretty girl, then we can go to sleep.” 

You just nod your head, wrapping your arms around him, trying to bring your face to his.  Sungchan takes the hint, softly pressing his lips to yours as he fucks into you one, two, three more times before you’re whimpering against him, body twitching as he feels you seize up around him.  He follows close behind, spilling into the condom as you twitch around him, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his face contorts from the bliss.  When he’s done going through the motions, he pulls out of you, hissing from the sensitivity.  He disposes of the condom before pulling his sweats back up, cleaning you up quickly with a damp towel trying his best to be gentle, putting a clean pair of underwear on you before finally sliding next to you in your bed.  

When he cuts the lights off you can see that the sun is starting to shine, both of your eyes feeling heavy as he wraps himself around you.  Before you both doze off you hear him mumble one last thing.

“I really did miss you.” 

You smile to yourself, placing a kiss on his pouty lips. 

“I missed you more Chan.”  

[macfrog]

ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (4)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3

Warnings: Dubious Consent, smut (18+), mostly dirty talk, some fucked up dynamics where he lets her press a stake to his heart, oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, teasing.

For @stardustmorozov, Nicky I'm sorry but you're gonna yell at me again... and I'm gonna love it.

You sit on his bed, listening to the sound of the shower going. 

Your mouth tastes like spearmint, and your hair is still a little damp after your shower despite your attempts at blow drying.

You’re in one of his shirts, having raided his drawers when the duffel bag he’d given you earlier held nothing but sheer lingerie disguised as sleepwear.

Maybe you shouldn’t stay here, so instead you stand, and begin wandering around his apartment.

His bedroom is farthest from the front door, and you step out, roaming down the hallway, and stopping when you see another door.

It’s open, and you peek in to find an office that you promise yourself to explore after.

It’s the only door in the hallway, and the end of it opens up into a large area with a high ceiling. There’s his kitchen to your left, and on the opposite end of the room from where you are, is the living room area. There are no walls here, just windows that show off the glittering lights of the New York skyline at night. You wonder how he’s able to stand the sun, knowing that vampire eyes were hypersensitive to light, and that most of them avoided the sunlight. Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did. 

You tuck that snippet of information away for further examination.

You turn to examine the kitchen, scanning the cupboards, surprised to find regular household foods like pasta and rice, wondering if he had bought these items for you, or for other human friends of his.

Another hallway at the other end of the kitchen catches your eye, and you walk slowly, more deep in your own head than you were paying attention to the layout of his apartment.

You find the bedroom you’d first woken up in, all walls and no windows, a place that protects from the light, with its own en suite bathroom. You decide that maybe you can sleep here tonight, away from him and his wretched mouth. 

Backtracking, you look at the door for a long moment, before moving forward to examine it.

You reach for the handle, pushing down, you realise it’s locked. You sigh, eyes falling on the latched deadbolt, reaching up to open it, before trying the door handle again.

The door opens this time.

Your stomach twists.

Damn, had it really been that easy the entire time? You study the elevator just a few paces away from the door.

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

You turn away from the door, and you gasp in fright as you see him standing just a few steps away. 

You jerk, back hitting the door as fright slams through you.

You suck in a deep breath, pressing your hand to your chest.

He’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and shoulders still glistening with water after his shower.

You stare at each other, a silent showdown of who’s going to speak first.

Billy tilts his head, studying you intently.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your brain comes up with the dumbest, most obvious answer possible.

“I’m- not wearing pants.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We could go get some. Would you leave then?”

“No, cause it’s three in the morning and I’m tired.”

He takes a step toward you, a teasing smile on his pretty face. Your eyes trace the lines of his scars as he draws nearer. You relax as he approaches.

“And in the morning?” 

He’s so close now, you’re eye level with his dripping wet chest.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” You whisper, studying the scars on his chest, and then flitting your gaze up to meet his.

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

Except that you don’t feel trapped, all you feel is heated want.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” He asks, his voice stirs something inside of you, a dangerous feeling, something disastrous in the making.

“You can’t stop me.” You murmur, as his fingers touch the bottom of your chin, gently tilting your head higher.

He smiles then, all fangs and pearly whites on display.

“If only that were true.” He hums, leaning in till his lips brush yours.

You push against his biceps hard, and he moves back just enough so that you’re able to slip away from him.

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

You don’t get very far, before he’s gripping your wrist tightly to keep you in place. You turn to face him, a look of calm irritation plastered on your face.

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?”

“It’s about nothing. Let me go.” You pull on your arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m not-” You grunt as you pull on your hand again, “-You’re just pissing me off.”

“You’re the one that called me ‘sick’ and now you’re jealous cause I kissed someone?”

“I’m not fucking jealous-” You gasp as he pins your body to the kitchen counter, your body freezing in shock at the angry expression on his face.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He grits out, blinking after a second and seemingly calming in the same space of time.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Don’t forget I can hear every beat of your heart. I can smell your cunt. I already know how wet you are. Don’t think you’re capable of a lie.”

You let out an angry sigh, turning your head away from him.

“Whatever.” you say as harshly as you can.

There’s a moment of silence, where he looks at you, and you make a point not to look at him.

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Billy what the fuck! Put me the fuck down now you asshole!” You grunt, his shoulder digging near painfully into your hip. 

You kick your legs, trying to escape and after a moment you realise that it doesn’t make a difference.

If you really wanted to, you could maybe straighten your body and fight your way out of his grip, but there was an inevitability to his movements. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how difficult it was, Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

So when your body lands softly on his bed, all you do is look up at him angrily.

“Stay there.” He orders, untucking the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor. You look up to the ceiling to avoid looking at his nude form. You don't want to give him the satisfaction.

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

You clench, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of your face to hide your desire. You try your very hardest not to remember the look of him, the feel of his body on yours, his cock-

He tugs the pillow away from your face, and you sigh in annoyance up at him.

You don’t want to look down, but your eyes have almost a mind of their own.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you notice that he’s wearing a fitted pair of grey boxers on his lower half.

When your eyes meet his in confusion, he grins.

He finds his way up to you, hands sliding over your legs, up your calves and to your knees.

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

His hands slide up more, and you're just confused when he reaches under your shirt to tug at your panties.

"We're not fucking tonight, sweetheart, I just wanna talk to you."

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

When he gets the garment off, you watch him close his eyes for a brief second, tilt his head up and take a deep breath.

He was-

"God. You smell good."

His eyes are red when they reconnect with yours.

You don't say anything- you find that you can't. You want him and he knows it.

He grips your thighs, pressing them upward so that your cunt is exposed to him fully.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you're sure he can hear it. Open and vulnerable as you watch him look at your glistening cunt.

"Pretty. Did you know that?" 

You gulp, eyes glued to his form, admiring the look of his arms and the swell of his biceps.

"I want to taste you every day, all the time. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from dropping you on the first surface I can find and burying my face in your cunt."

He watches you clench around nothing, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

He releases your legs, letting them drop a little and he looms in above you, pressing your body tightly to his.

Chest to chest, your bare centre pressed right up to the hardness of his clothed cock, there's no space to breathe where he doesn't exist.

He angles his head so that his lips are pressed to your ear.

"I want to lick that pretty little cunt till you pass out, and then wake you up so I can do it all over again." He whispers in your ear, your body tense and on edge from just his words.

"I want to fuck you till you beg me to stop, and even then, I'll still be giving you just one more."

You think you might be ruining the sheets below you with how aroused you were.

"Then do it." You challenge, hoping for some reprieve to the ache inside of you.

His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing your cheek before covering your mouth firmly.

You make a muffled sound of protest, raising your hands to try and push him away. You hear a quiet laugh, before one of your hands is pinned above your head.

It doesn’t matter, whether you have one hand free or two- you would not be able to get out from under him on your own.

“My poor sweet little huntress,” He hums, your ear vibrating with his low words, “If you want me to fuck you till you cry, you’re going to have to ask nicely. Actually no- you’re going to have to beg.”

Your groan of annoyance is muffled behind his palm. There was no way you were going to beg him for anything.

You feel him smile against your neck, and then you still as you feel his teeth. 

He drags his sharp teeth gently over your neck, avoiding the spot where he bit you earlier.

“You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.” 

To prove his point, you feel his tongue swipe over your shoulder, and then purposefully over your bite, sending brief little shivers down your spine, and then he trails his tongue up the column of your neck, and then even further, licking over your cheek as well.

Your body feels like a livewire, vibrating with sheer desire each time he touches you.

You want to grunt out so many things. That he was filthy, that he was just downright fucked up in the head.

That you wanted him to keep going.

“You like that, don’t you? You always have.” He lets out a slow sigh, “You always get so wet when you can’t fight back.”

Fuck you, you wanted to say. 

“What if we made this interesting?” He hums, raising his upper body off yours for a second to reach into his bedside drawer. 

You’re no longer fully trapped under him, and if you wanted to get out, you could. Instead, you wait curiously to see what he was going to do.

He pulls a stake out of his top drawer.

“You- just have that in there? I could have killed you this whole time?”

“Of course.” He teases pushing the drawer shut, “Now’s your chance.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s sliding the silver stake into your hand.

What the fuck?

“Now, you can stop me if you really want.” Billy says ominously.

“That’s the most fucked up-” Before you can finish, he’s slapping his hand back over your mouth.

“Don’t care about what you have to say, baby, I’m gonna do what I want to you, and you can stop me if you feel like.”

And then, he starts tugging your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

In retrospect, you don’t have to kill him to make him stop, you could just mortally wound him. One well placed stab near the heart would be enough of a deterrent. You could slip free and be out the door in minutes.

Billy pulls your shirt up higher, exposing your breasts to the open air. Your hand tightens on the stake.

You should do it. You really should.

He groans when his tongue slides wetly over your left nipple. You shudder blissfully.

Your eyes roll back in your head, before fluttering shut. A breath of air leaves your mouth in a rush, fingers hold taut on the warming piece of silver in your hand.

One quick swipe of his tongue on your left breast, then your right. He raises his head.

“Do you want more?” Billy asks.

With your eyes still closed, you shake your head.

“Then stop me.” He says, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple. 

His short beard scratches along your sensitive breast, he kisses his way up to the spot below your collarbone, white hot sparks splintering over your body everywhere he touches.

You still when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Still want me to stop?” He checks in.

No you don’t.

“Yes.”

His teeth press into your skin.

A sharp cry spills out of you, tingles as he breaks skin, followed by a jolt of pain and then heat.

You jerk when he extracts his fangs.

Billy moans when he gets his first mouthful.

You pant, unable to understand how having him drink from you could hurt, and yet feel so blissfully good.

He takes another, and then another.

Was he going to kill you like this? Should you stop him now?

He rolls his hips, rock hard erection just bumping your clit and you gasp.

Fuck, why did every part of him have to feel so good? You could feel your arousal, slippery and messy between your thighs, begging you to give into him, if only for a moment so that he could ease your ache.

Instead, you move your hand, pressing the stake to his shoulder.

From his spot, drinking from your chest, you feel him make a sound of amusement.

You groan, disdain for him building in you, you press the weapon deeper till it breaks his skin.

He pauses, raising his head from your chest, lapping slowly at the trickling droplets of your blood before drawing back.

“Silly girl, didn’t anyone teach you how to kill a vampire?” He asks, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip, and though you try to fight his guidance, he’s too strong, pulling your hand until the stake is pressed to the centre of his chest.

“My heart is right here.” He murmurs softly, and with his hand on yours, he pulls the weapon closer, breaking skin once more.

“Stop.” You say, panic building inside of you, tugging at your hand in hopes that it can slip out from under his. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to kill him.

You pull hard at your hand, gasping gratefully when you manage to pull away. 

You look at him, sharp breaths trying to calm yourself when you get your hand away. 

He gives you a soft smile, pulling the stake away from his chest and dropping it on the bed.

You gulp, watching the wound he’d caused heal before your eyes.

“You are,” You breathe, “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Maybe,” He agrees with a hum, “But at least you can admit to yourself now, that you want this too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely, “That maybe you actually like me.”

“Not wanting you to die is not the same as-”

“-Oh give me a fucking break.” He grunts, pulling back.

He grips your knees, and before you can figure out what he’s doing- he flips you onto your stomach.

You let out a little grunt, pushing yourself up, but suddenly pressed back down by the weight of his body covering yours.

“You’ve cum on my cock way too many times to be lying to yourself like this.” He hisses.

You turn your head, so that you can see his face in your peripherals.

"You're such an arrogant fuck." You grunt out, your rucked up shirt causing your nipples to press against the bed, the exposure of your body makes you almost quiver with delight.

He leans in, his breath against your ear as you feel his hands gripping your hips.

"Why can't you just admit to yourself that you might want me, hmm?" He hisses lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin, tormenting you.

"That deep down," He continues, pressing his hand between your hips and the bed, "Somewhere in that pretty head and wet cunt," You feel his hand sliding lower, fingers touching the top of your mound, "You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"I want to lick your cunt so often that I can taste you when you're not there. Is that too much to ask for?"

Your head spins, too drunk on him to formulate words.

He makes it even harder, by slipping his hand lower, fingers meeting your wet slit.

He doesn't hesitate, fingers gliding easily down, meeting your clit and you let out a low, shuddering moan as your ache is addressed in the slightest way possible.

You tilt your hips forward, into his hand.

"Billy." You sigh, widening your legs instinctively, anything to encourage him to keep going.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You mewl, nodding your head.

His finger slips gently over your clit, and your breathing pauses, you don't want to do anything that would make him stop giving you this pleasure.

He gives a firm press, and you feel your body shudder, a wave of pure bliss sinking over you.

You say his name again, shifting your body, trying to display your impatience to him.

"Ah ah ah, little girl. Where are your manners? I told you I wanted you to beg."

"Fuck you." You groan angrily.

His finger slips lower, massaging your entrance for a few moments before slipping his finger in.

You gasp, your body going lax at the feel of the pleasure building in you. It’s good. It’s so good and it’s so wrong that he makes you feel like this.

"So fucking tight." He hisses, "That cunt's begging for a stretch."

Focusing on his words are hard with the way his lone finger moves, pumping in and out of you easily, your body desperate for him.

Something goes off in your head, like a gun when he curls his finger, and touches that spot deep inside of you. It pulls a groan from the very depths of your soul. You pant, trying to keep your thinking focused with the way he’s trying to steal it.

"That's it. You like this huh? Like the way I take what I want?" He leans in till his lips are at your ear, "I like it too." You clench around his finger.

"You're a sick fuck." You groan, half your mouth muffled from where your face is pressed to the bed.

"Yeah? Am I? Do you hate me?" He pulls back, and before you can make any sound of protest, two of his fingers are sliding into you.

Fuck, you can feel your body stretching for him. He uses his other hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up almost painfully so that your face isn’t muffled in the sheets anymore.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

You cry, his fingers beginning to move slowly, spreading you open and forcing you to feel him, to ache for more of him.

His fingers slow when you don’t immediately answer, and you groan internally, assembling the words in your head.

“I- I,” You stutter out, tears dripping from your eyes uncontrollably and pooling around his grip on your jaw, “I h-hate you.”

“Yeah? Poor little girl. Should I stop then? Leave you alone?” He coos, voice condescending in every way possible.

“Nh-” You immediately vocalise, begging him in your head to not stop, but the words can’t seem to come out of your mouth.

He laughs in your ear, understanding what you were about to say without you having to say it. 

The pace of his fingers quicken, you hiss, arching your back, feeling your orgasm swiftly approaching. You’ve wanted him since this morning, since he pulled you onto his lap and told you that you were his.

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back in your head, on the brink of release-

-And then his fingers stop.

A cry of despair leaves your lips, and the denial in your body aches, and then hurts even more when he pulls his fingers away, withdrawing his hand from under you. His grip on your jaw loosens, until your face is pressed against the sheets once more.

You raise your head groggily, turning your body onto your side when you feel him lift himself off of you. You catch sight of him sliding his fingers, wet with your denial into his mouth.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, on the brink of begging for him, pleading with him to make you cum, and then take you in any way he saw fit.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you stay still, trying not to speak, feeling the fire of denial burn through you.

You tug your shirt down, looking at him with angry eyes as he observes you.

“Are you done having your fun?” You ask bitterly.

The corner of his lip twitches.

"You know what to say if you want to cum, baby. Don't act like this isn't your choice."

You feel petulance build up inside of you, anger beyond thought.

"Go fuck yourself." You hiss, moving to slide off the bed.

He grips your hips, hauling you back, until you're on your back, looking angrily up at him.

"What's the rush, sweetness? Don't you want me to clean you up?" 

“Clean me?” You repeat in disbelief, sitting up, propping the weight of your torso onto your elbows. Your brain stalling on what that could possibly mean.

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

He takes his time, shouldering his body in between your thighs, his face so close to your dripping centre that you’re not sure if you have any brain cells left functional

“God.” He murmurs, his breath brushing along your mound as he takes in an unnecessary breath, his eyes immediately locking on to the messy place between your thighs, “You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.” 

“You are the most insane person on the planet.”

He grins, lowering his head slowly, anticipation building inside of you, a simmering heat, a thrumming pulse.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Is the last thing he murmurs before his lips meet your cunt.

You close your eyes, pressing your lips together, begging yourself to not make a sound. He places a gentle kiss to your slit, and then another, before you feel his lips part, and his tongue snake out.

You make a muffled groan behind your clenched teeth as he gets a taste of you.

What starts off gentle, turns slightly rougher as he lays a harsh swipe of his tongue along your pussy, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel Billy begin to slowly lick your cunt.

He’s thorough and unrelenting, his face buried between your thighs, licking at you without a care in the world.

You want to spit every degrading word you can at him, hating the way you know in the back of your head that only he has ever made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck you.” You gasp as his tongue finds your clit easily, a laugh vibrating through your nether regions as he hears you.

You give up trying to resist, reaching to grip the back of his head, hoping to urge him on.

It has the opposite effect, he raises his head, and you whine, a low, pained noise at his torment.

"I'm not clean enough yet," You argue, looking down to meet his scarlet eyes.

You look at each other for a long moment, the heat of unsaid words crackling between you.

You want to beg, you're almost on the brink of it.

"I agree." Is all he says before he lowers his head again.

"Fuck-" You gasp, your back hitting the bed as your arm refuses to support your weight for any longer. 

His tongue is too dexterous, licking at your clit, and then dipping down to your entrance. He groans, tongue catching your arousal straight from the source.

Your toes curl, blissful orgasm near, your body tingles with the anticipation of your impending release.

You moan his name, putting every ounce of desperate desire into the one word.

He pulls away right when you're on edge.

The sound that leaves you is pitiful, tears of frustration spill from your eyes as you look up at him.

"I'll give you anything if you let me come."

"You know what I want." He says, licking his lips.

"Besides that," You try to bargain, "I'll blow you again, or I'll let you bite me." 

His smile is one of amusement, it makes you feel like a child, begging for something you're not going to get.

"I think we've already established that if I wanted those things, you wouldn't stop me. Even if you could."

You frown, letting out a sharp breath, fully understanding that he would not take pity on you tonight.

"Fine, asshole, I'll do it myself." You grunt, slipping from under him and sitting up with the intention of a shower.

He grips your bicep harshly to stop you. You grit your teeth angrily, unable to look into his eyes.

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

He pulls you closer, till his lips are pressed right to your ear again, your stomach flipping at his proximity.

"I'll tie you to the bed, and edge you till you forget your name. I'll use you like my own personal fleshlight and I'll never let you cum."

You hiss angrily, nether regions throbbing at his words and you tug your arm out of his grip.

"Fuck. You." Is your only reply as you head to the bathroom for the coldest shower possible.

.

After all of that, you sleep in bed beside him.

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Thought vampires didn't need sleep?" You ask, voice unsteady, having just woken up.

"We don't." He answers, looking down at you. 

Your eyes trace his scars, you want to touch them, ask him what happened.

"So why did you lie beside me all night?"

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away as you feel blood rush to your face.

"Will you tell me more about this…imprint?" You ask softly.

He makes a little sound of displeasure.

"It's not exactly an imprint- It’s like-" He lets out a low sigh.

"It sounds worse than it actually is, but- ugh- do you know what quantum entanglement is?"

"Do I look like a physicist?" You answer.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at your snark.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

"What entangles them?" You ask.

"Physical interaction, but, with people, it's a lot harder to explain because there's a lot that isn't understood. It can happen with anyone, but not everyone, and at a subconscious level, it has to be accepted by both."

"You're saying I chose this?"

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

"Feel me?" You press, hoping for him to elaborate.

He raises a hand, his knuckles carefully brush your cheek.

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

You blink, trying to figure out if you'd felt the same way. You had so many questions flying through your head and difficulty putting them into words.

“Is there any way to break it?”

You can almost feel the air go frigid between you.

“As far as I understand, nothing breaks the bond except dying.”

Great.

“And what happens if we stay together?”

“I’ve heard different things from different people.” He responds.

“Like what?” You ask, trying to think it through. You remember Ethan had mentioned that there was the prolonging of lives involved.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"I don't want to tell you what I'm not sure about. I have a friend, bonded to a human, maybe you can ask them whenever."

You swallow, nodding, trying not to fret over the possibility of more vampires.

Deep in thought, you blink in surprise when you feel his thumb brush over your cheek again. You look up at him in surprise.

"I have another question, but it's very personal."

"What is it?" 

You stall for a moment, studying the look in his eyes, the dark reflectiveness of them, the way you can almost see yourself in his eyes.

"Exactly how old are you?"

It changes the sour mood, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement before he gives you a fanged grin.

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

You huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to freak you out, and telling you my age is gonna freak you out."

Maybe he was right, maybe it was better that you didn't know.

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. He gets closer to you, fingers tracing over your cheek and down your neck, only stopping when they reach the healing bite on your shoulder.

Experimentally, he presses his thumb against the wound. You turn your head sharply to look at him, feeling the pain swim through your body but not reacting to it.

“Ow.” You say simply.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks quietly.

You smack his hand away, sitting up, your back to him.

“Why does it suddenly matter?” You jab, moving to dangle your feet off the side of the bed.

There’s a big silence, he doesn’t answer, and after a moment you’re forced to glance back to make sure he’s still there and hasn’t dissolved into the air because of you.

He’s looking at you, as if he somehow understands something about you that you don’t know about yourself.

“How many times have you been bitten?”

The question brings a laugh to your lips.

“Enough times that I'm used to it.”

“Does it hurt any less each time?”

You turn away, an amused and thoughtful smile rises to your face.

“Every time I get bitten, always hurts like the first time.” You say in finality, leaving the room soon after.

.

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You’d showered, looking at your reflection in the fogged mirror, trying to think clearly with so much frustration in your system. In the moment, you close your eyes, and recall the first time you’d ever fucked him.

It had been frantic at first, the way he’d used his tongue on you had your body begging for more, and you honestly thought you were going to die after you’d tried to kill him.

You’d put everything into it- savouring him because you wanted to seal yourself into his memory- if he was going to kill you by the end of it.

You’d gone pliant when he'd lined himself up with your entrance, and you can still remember the way your brain spiralled in surprise at the ridiculous amount of pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like that before.

Over and over again, you’d fucked till you could barely hold yourself up, till you’d been sitting on his lap, his hands gripping your hips to do all the work because you couldn’t even lift your head from the crook of his neck.

He’d been quiet, not like the second time, or even last night, when he was so vocal, the only thing you could compare it to was sin itself.

Your lower regions pulse. You can feel the heat between your thighs, begging for him, and the pleasure he gives regardless of how annoying he was.

It’s why you grab the dress at the bottom of the duffel bag to wear, deciding that you didn’t have to beg to get what you wanted. 

It was actually a really cute dress, blue, with little printed flowers all over it. Most importantly, it was short, only coming up to mid-thigh, which meant that if you bent over, he’d see the smallest scrap of lace you’d decided to call underwear today.

If he could play games, so would you.

.

He’s making breakfast when you step into the kitchen. It kind of amuses you, that he’s only cooking for you.

“Can I help?” You ask, stepping up beside him at the stove to look down at the omelette he’d been working at.

He glances at you, looks down at the stove, before blinking to look over at you once more.

You watch his jaw stiffen, you resist the urge to bite your lip as you watch his eyes trace down your body.

Oh, what power.

“Butter.” He says, “Fridge.”

You offer him a teasing smile, before turning away.

You bend unnecessarily, feeling your skirt rise up, cool air brushing the back of your thighs. 

The butter is on the middle shelf, making your bending completely unnecessary in the first place.

He's not looking at you when you turn around. You're not even sure if he's seen your little display.

He takes the butter from you without a word, and you're very intrigued by the way he cooks, the move of his wrist to flip the omelette.

"Can you get the bread toasted for me?"

How was he doing this? Being so calm and casual with you? Seeing this side of him was so much worse for your sanity than anything else. 

"You have bread?" You ask curiously, looking around, but not able to spot any.

"Yeah, here-" He steps away from the stove to reach into one of the overhead cupboards. You glance down at the pan on the stove, to make sure nothing is burning. The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

There were deep impressions of his fingers… caused by squeezing too hard.

Maybe he was more affected with your display than he let on.

You fight a satisfied smile, giving him a knowing look when he returns to place the bag of sliced bread into your hands.

"You bought all of this for me?" You tease, "I'm flattered."

He looks hot when he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I can’t let you starve.”

“Because you like me?” You pry, swaying your shoulders playfully from side to side.

He huffs, using the spatula to flip the finished omelette onto a nearby plate.

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head without looking at you.

It only urges you on, like a match, sparking as it rubs against coarse paper.

You brace your hands against his kitchen counter, stiffening your arms as you use your toes to push you into an effortless bounce, using the momentum to raise your body, sitting yourself on his counter, facing him.

He doesn’t look, simply preparing the pan for toast.

“Ah,” You tease, parting your thighs subtly, “So you don’t like me then.”

Yet still, he doesn’t respond, calmly observing the bread as it toasts, the smell of it in the air makes your mouth water a little.

But it’s not what you’re hungry for.

“Maybe you only think you like me because of how sweet my blood tastes. Maybe it’s all in your head-”

Your voice goes quiet when he finally pins you with a stern glare. 

His movements are decisive, turning the stove off, moving the pan away from the residual heat, and then turning to you.

Goddamn.

You gasp, raising a leg to back away from him while also making an attempt to push him back with your foot, but there’s nowhere for you to go, your head bumps a cupboard door, and that’s all the distraction he needs to grab your ankle.

You let out a little squeak, gasping as he pulls you forward and right up against his body, encouraging your legs to wrap around him.

You open your mouth to speak, to protest, to fight him in an unmeaningful way, but you don’t get the chance as his hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your mouth onto his.

God fucking damn.

Your eyes shut, your body relaxes, and then sings with delight as he delves his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth, unable to fight it, leaning in because it feels so good to have him. 

Fuck every part of you that told you this was wrong. You wanted him and nothing would stop you.

You grip his shirt in a tight fist, leaning in, meeting his mouth with an undeniable force. He presses back, and for a moment you feel so blissfully wanted, maybe more than you’d ever been before.

Only when his hand weaves into your hair, his fist tightening to hold your head in place as he leans away, do you remember the taunting remarks that got you here.

Your scalp stings, mouth falling open to gasp in air.

His eyes are dark red, like the blood he drinks to stay alive.

He doesn’t speak, releasing your hair to support your behind as he lifts you off the counter, moving quickly with your body pressed to his.

Your vision shifts too fast for comprehension, and the next thing you can process is lying face down across the marble kitchen island.

He grips the back of your head to keep you there, warm cheek to frigid marble and you stay, refusing to move, wishing that he takes in this moment, everything that you’re willing to give.

He leans over your body, until his mouth is pressed to your ear.

“Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

He’s not done ranting, continuing on as if he doesn’t care for your answers.

“I know you just said that to get a rise out of me, but the very idea of me only wanting your for your blood- makes me fucking sick.”

He leans in even more, taking a deep breath in the space of your neck.

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

He leans away a little.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? When you put on this little dress and flashed that cunt at me?”

He moves away even more, and the next thing you feel is him pushing your dress up, his hand pressed securely to the small of your back so that you can’t raise your body.

He's still for a moment, and so are you, burning with anticipation, your cunt getting wetter by the second.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his nose graze the back of your thigh.

You shudder, feeling his breath along your most sensitive areas, your skin tingles as he runs his nose upward, your hands curl into fists beside your head when you feel a small puff of air against your skin.

He’s still for so long that you find your body tense with anticipation, biting down on your bottom lip hard so that you don’t beg him to just put you out of your sordid misery. 

You make a small mewling sound of surprise when you feel his tongue lick along the lace gusset of your panties. 

He tugs at the scrap of fabric, pulling it away from the tacky seam of your cunt so that he can get a better look, an uninhibited view of your desire.

You want to say his name, so badly that you can feel the resonant sound of it in the back of your throat. Instead, you repeat it in your head.

Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

“I can’t believe how fucking messy this cunt gets. All for me.” He says softly, as if you’re not meant to hear but you do anyway.

“Such a fucking shame that you won’t beg. The things I want to do to you, the ways I want to make you cum.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting hard against the kitchen counter, your inner walls fluttering, begging. 

“Fucking tease.” He breathes out, as he watches more arousal spill from between your thighs.

Billy, please-

Your gasp gets caught in your throat as his tongue licks a wet trail from your clit to your entrance.

“Fuck- didn’t mean to do that but I can’t help it.” Is all he says before his tongue starts licking you slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head and stays there permanently for a few seconds. The flood of bliss is almost too much for your body to manage.

He grunts, his hands gripping your thighs to spread your legs further apart.

His tongue is forceful as it dances over your clit, and then, after what you assume is a moment of contemplation, you feel his tongue push its way against your entrance.

Your breathing is sharp and shallow, you reach to grip the other edge of the counter, trying to get some leverage to remain sane.

The pleasure is shallow, but your body is hypersensitive with denial, his tongue fucking into you at a reasonable pace is almost enough to have your breath stalling in your throat.

When he finally gets control of himself, his tongue slows, carefully licking you, daring your body to think about orgasm.

After a few more moments, he raises his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief, your body releasing the tension of pleasure, your hands relaxing its grip on the marble countertop.

But you should have known better than to think he was done with you, not satisfied until you know for sure that you’ve lost this interaction.

His hands on your hips, gripping them as he turns you over, pulling you up into a sitting position.

Nose to nose, you look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze.

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

You sigh, pressing your cheek into his palm and closing your eyes.

“Say it for me. What do I want?” He asks.

You breathe out a huff, an unknown emotion squeezing your throat tightly.

“Me.” You whisper softly, eyes still shut to avoid his gaze.

He doesn’t mind, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Good girl.”

And then he’s gone- right back to toasting bread, as if nothing had ever happened.

It almost drives you insane.

.

.

.

Happy Halloween!

[liteyagummy]

TW: cnc, toxic relationship, overprotective dabi!!mature audience!! dominance, swearing, nsfw !!, fem y/n (no body type specified )

ignore any typos i apologize (kiri update at the end!!)

inspired by the Please Please Please music video by Sabrina Carpenter

a sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up looking to your cell mates. it was a friday night around 12 midnight before the club had even started really everything got called off because of a fight at the bar and you’d just so happened to be sitting next to the girls. now all three of you sat in a holding cell

“ Y/LN” you looked to the woman at the outside of the cell “you’ve been bailed out, go up to the man at the window and collect your items.” she said coldly as if she hated her job which.. real.

you stood up a smile tugging your lips a bit as you wave to your ‘new friends’ and left as you walked to the man in the window a blue flash of fire and a wave a heat hitting your eyes and body at the same time passing you in cuffs there he was.. a man in black grunge clothing, the smell of charred cotton with a hint of burned leather, strangely it wasn’t an unpleasant scent to touch both lock eyes

as he walks the officer has him in cuffs “ okay dabi make this easy for me.” the cop said as he walked the male past

dabi winked at you after looking you up and down almost undressing you with his eyes in just those few seconds you blushed “dabi…?” your mind seemed to take note of that name all on its own as you grabbed your items and ran to your best friend excitedly “ did you see that guy??” you whispered

momo perked up as she saw her friend was perfectly fine “ well, im not to sure the prison cells are the best place to find your forever husband y/n..” she guided her friend out faster seeing as the cops might have a problem with how she parked..

you tumbled to Yaoyorozu’s car and got in thanking her for bailing you out in the midst of explaining the whole night to her, you snapped your seatbelt on as she drove to your place you look out the window thinking for a minute.. you should’ve stayed and tried to fight out at least what were his charges..” you huffed “his name was dabi i think.. or at least that’s what the cop said momo side eyed you as the car came up on a red light

“as in.. Dabi- Touya Todoroki??” she raised a brow “y/n- that guys a villain one of the worst out there he works with-“ she shook her head “ he works with the league do you know how many times UA had to fight that guy” she face plamed but all you could understand was she knew who his was, his full name even you smiled “Touya”you whisper under your breath

as Yaoyorozu dropped you off you hugged her “i’ll text you okay? i’m gonna completely make up for this” you said as you got out and yaoyorozu knew you would that’s why she didn’t really have a problem with bailing you out only your safety was her concern, after a bit more longer of the goodbyes she drove off as you went in the house and locked the doors

you groaned going straight to your shower and starting off ending the night

as the morning light beamed through your bedroom you sat up rubbing your eyes and rolling over to check your phones notifications, you see toga had texted back.. see you never went to UA nor did you ever want to be a hero so you didn’t really choose sides when it came down to it.. you had friends on both sides but would never do anything to betray anyone

you had texted her last night before you hit your bed and passed out.. it all worked out because she replied the next morning anyways you texted back as you were gonna start getting ready then asked for the address, as you turned your phone off you got up and got ready for your day you came out in your pretty outfit fitting your aesthetic perfectly again 2-0

you walked to grab your car keys and wallet checking your phone and being curious about not having the address yet after all that time.. “damn toga, i didn’t pin you to be a bad texter” you mumbled as there was a knock at the door

walking to the door you hear two voices.. you open it confusedly “ hi y/n!” a familiar pink cheeked face hugged you, she hugged directly into your chest laying her head on your tits “ wish i had some this big” she pouted, as she started to think about how they would look with a few drops of blood on them

you knew that look, you grew to have to watch out for it when with toga, you snapped your fingers a few times “ toga don’t even go there” you reminded she pouted “fine..” she huffed “i brought dabi along with me since you seemed to want to figure something out about him?

“HUH??” you said not expecting to see the taller male step through your doorway “ and by brought me with her she means she had no other ride.”

toga looked to dabi slowly “ho is you coo?”

toga shook her head and sighed “ while that’s true, y/n also was asking about you last night so it just seemed to fit y’know??” she shrugged as she looked around “ oh wow y/n!” she said as she gave herself a tour of your home, you weren’t too worried about her no your attention was to the man infront of you slowly closing your door “is that so..“ dabi mumbled but you caught it

“w-“ you paused “ not really i was just- curious about.. um- the.. jail.. mates?” you tried to lie and horribly failed

he chuckled “well if you’re that interested i can tell you all about the interesting people i met in Solitary confinement.”

“as.. FUN as that sounds- we’re doing a girl day dabi so either put on this cute matching bow i got the three of us or kick rocks” toga said as she came back interrupting the conversation and holding up a pretty crimson red bow it matched her outfit meanwhile it stuck out like a sore thumb on dabi

you snickered as you took the bow “ yeahhh wear the pretty bow” you said as you clipped yours in your hair and waited for dabi to take his, he rolled his eyes

“im not wearing a bow.” he said bluntly as he put his arm behind his head rubbing the back of his neck “especially not red.” he shook his head

toga scoffed as she put it on his head he tried pushing her hands but she was far too quick and before he knew it he had a little clip bow in his hair , he raised his hand to incinerate it but toga stared at him as he did

you just watched all of this go down and shook your head holding your phone up and snapping a picture “might aswell wear it all day, we already have picture proof that it happened “ you shook your phone and he groaned loudly “can we just go.” he said as he opened and walked out the door he had JUST closed going to his car as toga followed along skipping “ y/n you can get in the front!!”

you nodded as you locked your door and went to get in the front “ can we stop by the address i sent you” she told dabi as she laid down in the backseat waiting for the car to move, he rolled his eyes and pulled off being the reckless driver he was there was a few.. concerns but you kept them to yourself.. but dabi must’ve picked up on the nervous feeling because he started to ease up with the lane switches and speeding

as they arrived to the place where toga wanted to go, she smiled and hopped right out, it was a house.. strange you didn’t get out because who the fucks house was this? were you even supposed to get out..

toga went and knocked on the door, a male opened the door and she happily went inside, hours passed, occasionally you’d see toga in the windy talking to the man- she’d be in different clothes at one point after you’d been waiting hours in the car with dabi.. completely silent

he scoffed starting the car up “ we’re not gonna wait for her to be done with her boy toy.. you hungry?” he asked as you looked at him “starving.” you said dead serious which almost caused him to laugh, he put in somewhere on the gps and started to drive again

a short ride later.. you both arrived at a soba place you thought about it, have you ever had soba?.. you opened your door and got out looking around and stretching “i never want to spend three hours in a still car EVER again” you shook your head

“ so much for your girls day” he said as he closed the car door and locked it and motioned you to walk with him and so you did.. going in you look around the place was pretty busy but nothing too crazy dabi went up and talked with the man that helped with the seating the host then grabbed two menus and walked you and dabi to your booth you weren’t expecting to eat in.. it felt a little more intimate than you’d expected your nerves coming back as you both sat down, you looked at the menu but dabi didn’t he already knew what he wanted he just waited on you.. and as he did he again started undressing you with his eyes, the look he was giving you made your body heat up you hoped you could keep calm “h-“ you cleared your voice as the male worker walked over to take orders, dabi let you go first “i’ll have the chicken soba with a glass of iced tea “ you said as you looked up at the waiter and smiled, he nodded as you looked at you blushing a bit at the sudden warmth you’d emitted “r-right then for you?” he turned to dabi who started to scowl, he noticed that little moment you both had, he closed his eyes keeping his calm “ill have a order of the cold soba.. and a water “ he said and the waiter noticed the differences in energy he was conflicted on how to speak to dabi so he just quickly nodded then walked off to the kitchen

“why were you looking like that to that man” you asked as you put your menu ontop of dabi’s as dabi scoffed “ why were YOU looking like that to him” he let his eyes wonder off as he spoke, this surprised you, you didn’t think you had looked at anyone any type of way but.. who knows-

later on your and dabi’s food had come to the table he was quick to dig in, you shook your head following right after him shame on toga for leaving you guys like that.. she still hadn’t called or texted you both would’ve been skeletons by now

you finish your food minutes after dabi and get your wallet “ you’re good” he looked at your hands reaching for your wallet as he stood up “ come on” he motioned for u to follow.. you were confused but did

dabi went to the back of the restaurant deeply into hidden halls as he held you close you were so wrapped up in the fact that dabi was holding onto you.. it clouded your mind until you both got into a dark room, the lights flicked on and there was a few other men sitting one sat at a desk the rest sat on couches and stood in the back, it all clicked in your mind after dabi talked to the men for a while “ wai-“ before you could even get out a fight broke out dabi against the seven men you covered your ears and turned towards the door

—end—

well that was four years ago. you thought about that day as you sighed slipping your shoes on and grabbing the car keys, ironically they were the keys to the same car dabi drove when you first went out you walked to the car and gently patted it “ alright let’s go get daddy from work.” you said snarkily to the car getting in and taking a drive rubbing the temples of your head you arrived at the place of work. you parked the car where you normally did and got out sitting on the hood and waiting. waiting for touya todoroki to be released from the prison. you shook your head as he walked out with a smile towards you coming over pulling your hair a bit tilting your head up to him and he kissing your lips “ there you are doll” he smiled as he embraced you into a hug putting his arms around your body loving the feeling

you loved this man. so of course you kissed and hugged back but.. you made sure to tell him “ dabi you need to slow down.. this is the sixth time this month i’ve had to bail you out. why can’t you just- sit down in the house for a while and be with me??” you asked as you walked to the passenger side and tossed him the keys over the car, he got in opening your door from the inside you rolled your eyes already knowing all this was going in one ear and out the air.. the hot head couldn’t be cooped up in the house even if he tried to comply.

you got in and shut your door putting your seatbelt on, he looked in the backseat you were confused by this but he just put his hand on the back of your seat and reversed looking at what he was doing, he then pulled off quickly already speeding then slid his hand down to your inner thigh and resting it there “dabi!! we’re still in the fucking prison parking lot” you hit his arm with a power packed back hand

he didn’t seem to care if they saw him speeding or not “ i got this relax baby” he said as he finally made his way out of the parking lot

“said by the man who just got bailed out of jail.” you mumbled as you crossed your arms and tilted your head back on the head rest he looked to you seeming to have heard you

“y/n stop acting like you don’t know what i’m trying to do” he said with a soft sigh, his tone wasn’t annoyed or angry.. it was more of sympathetic somehow “im trying to get shit together for us to leave this place. clear my paths off cut some ties to me so we can just disappear.” he eyed you you swear you didn’t even know how he was still driving most of his attention stayed on you “ you know how much i need you y/n. how much i’m in love with you shouldn’t even be a fucking question.” he shook his head as he started to move his hand up and down on your thigh “ i’ll make it up to you” he said as he pulled into a parking garage, reaching into the back, grabbing a bag under the backseat carpet and paying to get in, your eyes widened “what do you have me riding around with in this car??” you asked confusedly

“ it’s better if you don’t know” he said as he drove in the parking garage he drove to the top as the sun started to set he sat the seats back and locked the car doors rolling up the windows and turning the air on high, “get in the back” he said you raised a brow but just did as told “why..” you said as the ringing of a belt buckle being undone filled your ears, that sound alone causing you to throb a bit you let out a little whimper as you closed your legs tightly and blushed looking away

“ don’t get all shy now, weren’t you just popping shit up here? questioning my methods” dabi said as he got in the back with you, he kissed on your neck making sure to put some heat behind his lips, your cold body heating up at the hot kisses they burned but it was a nice tingly feeling.. and even if it wasn’t your adrenaline pumped too fast in this moment to feel it you snaked your arms around his neck as he burned your revealing outfit off his blood getting a bit hot knowing that’s what you wore out the house when he was held up at the prison

“dabi i still have to get out the car don’t burn them..!” he looked at you “lower your tone.” he said as he pinned your arms on the door using his other hand he picked up his dick and let it fing out he’d been hard every since he rubbed on your body.. he took his dick and shoved it in your mouth

“mmhn!!~” you gagged a bit the piercings he had gotten on his cock for a punishment specifically for you to feel. you swirled your tongue as you narrowed your beautiful eyes giving dabi head, you missed him so badly as did your body, you couldn’t help but pull out all the stops to earn his praise, he grunted as you did this, his breathing getting a bit louder as he thrusted his hips in face fucking you and loving the squeeze of your throat when you deepthroated his cock he watched saliva drip from your lips to your bouncing tits he sped up his thrusting just to make them bounce out the bra, as they did to be fair the bra you had on wasn’t supportive just more of pretty

you tried pulling your hands out as he started to heat his hands up and you felt it you knew he’d actually burn you if you didn’t listen, that’s why you had marks now a few times gone a little too long, he would always be so apologetic and stop mid fuck if it actually hurt he’d love on your body as gently as he could for the rest of the night and wrap the wound

but tonight it didn’t seem like he was too focused on burning you too much. a dangerous thing to realize

you sucked harder till he pulled out quickly and let your hands go positioning your body where he wanted you, dabi was no weak man no matter how much you gained or lost your body would still be his to throw around and make happy whenever he pleased

he pushed his dick down as he lined up with your pussy not even taking another second to see if he was properly lined up he slammed his dick in, you cried “ i told you can’t take it all like that!!” you moaned out

“and i don’t give a fuck. you’re gonna stretch to me and take” he lifted up leaning forward using the car door to be his brace “whatever the FUCK.” he pulled back “ i give you!” he shouted as he pounded your pussy no spot left on your walls unpressed or unfucked he made your eyes water and swell with tears with how good it felt

“fuck i swear you’ve gotten tighter.. it’s only been a fucking month!” he fucked you harder with each sentence you just wanted him to stop talking so you could adjust to the speed for a second but you knew he wouldn’t let that happen

he smiled as he leaned forward “what’s my name?” he kissed on your tits putting his head between them using his now free hand to rub and pinch your nipple you tightly closed your eyes as the tears rolled down your cheek”i-it’s touya!~”

dabi slammed harder into you you almost felt him pushing into your womb as you screamed out the windows on the car fogging up “ it’s daddy!!! please not there!!!!~” you begged as your hips said otherwise you fucked dabi back missing the curves of his cock the piercings dragging along inside of you for extra pleasure you couldn’t take it “ dabi stop!!” you cried

“i bet that’s what you moaned when you fucked yourself with that dildo you hid.. or that vibrator you love so much. trying to make it take my fucking place. you think i don’t have cameras at the house?? i’m always watching you baby~” he bit on your nipple softly as you clenched your pussy more on his dick pulling him closer with your legs “ oh daddy!! it could n-never take your place” you whimpered out

you let his fuck his anger, stress and both of your worries into you he’d release it into his cum his kids filling you repeatedly as you bloated you came multiple times on his dick aswell your legs shaking as you stayed in the same spot panting like a dog needing more as you rub your pussy against his lips while he’s laying on your thighs he looks at what you’re doing and happily pushed your legs open and goes to eat you out you grip his hair and pull him to the spots you need him as he had you hitting new notes you didn’t even know you could, everything just felt so sensitive and blissful his tongue moved faster than a vibrator nothing met comparison to him that’s why when you did have him it was hard to stop, he felt the exact same. what with you running around all the time with friends and handling whatever business called for you that day. he hated when you were torn from his arms.. he vowed as he kissed up your cummy pussy “ i’ll be more careful.. i’ll try at least. so i can make it home to you.. and this cum bucket of a pussy” he slapped it and you let a gasp out

you hope he stays true to his word

—part 1– the end

⭐️kiri part 2 will be posted within the next two days!! ⭐️

[chaostudee]

the secret of us, chapter two.

warnings : abuse, language.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

thursday, media day in the paddock, the highlight of the race weekend for aspiring journalists. a smile adorned your face as you strolled through the paddock, filled with fans galore and mechanics preparing the cars for the race weekend.

with your lanyard around your neck fellow journalist nodded at you in greeting to which you did the same. today claire had assigned you to interview some drivers and sure you were nervous but confident with what experience you had from yesterdays encounter. a blush creeps up your neck when you remember how his piercing hazel eyes latched onto yours and how his smile had enraptured you.

from the moment you walked into the paddock in the early hours of the morning you had been keeping a lookout for him, just to catch a glimpse. would he acknowledge you or had he forgotten you even existed?

"hey y/n you are here finally" claire sighs in relief upon seeing you walking towards her. she looked exhausted yet her makeup and outfit were on point, you could hardly notice which made you question your own clothing choice. she effortlessly always looked flawless.

"sorry am i late?

"no no i just wanted to give you some time to prepare before they come" she adds as she flicks through her briefcase for something.

"em well can you tell me who it is......"

"oh yes um george and lewis i believe".

you chuckle to yourself. of course it is.

claire was not in the dark about george being your brother but she understood that being in the public eye was not your cup of tea and she didn't feel the need to advertise your personal business. and for that you trusted her.

"okay so mercedes reached out and they just briefly want you to ask them personal questions like what they do to relax or like favourite food you know stuff like that, you get me?"

you nod in understanding. just as you are about to open your mouth you see lewis and george walk into the room. air catches in your throat once you clock lewis. he was known to convey his own style during media day and today was no exception. you admired his adventurous clothing style.

george gives you a subtle nod and you smile back. you couldn't believe you had made it to this position. you were finally interviewing drivers and although it was all still on a trial basis you were proud of this accomplishment.

the cameramen came in to set up their equipment which increased your nerves as you shuffled through your notes and fiddled with your hair.

a few metres away george was conversing with lewis about the strategy for the weekend and to avoid suspicion he nodded and said yeah because his eyes kept drifting to you. he was aware that you were nervous because you had the same mannerisms as last night. he wanted nothing more than to assure you that there was nothing to be worried about but instead he vowed to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

"action!"

that call causes you to sit up straight and clear your throat.

"hi i'm y/n and i'm here with....." you extend your arms to the boys anticipating their introduction.

"hi i'm george russel"

"and i'm lewis hamilton"

the two wave at the camera before turning their attention back to you.

"okay by the way all these questions are by fans so please don't cancel me for any of these, these are their word not mine"

this earns a laugh from george and a small smirk from lewis.

"okay this first question is for george, everyone wants to know your hair care routine". you try to hold back a giggle knowing damn well that your brother uses the cheapest shampoo and showers like 2 or 3 times in a week.

george claps his hands together clearly eager to answer this question. "okay well truthfully anyone who knows me i acc don't use a lot of products so ig its's my genetics" he answers proudly. lewis looks at george weirdly causing george to start laughing. "mate what it's the truth". lewis hands up his hands in defense.

"okay moving on," you giggle "um lewis what is a before race ritual for you?"

lewis smiles at you and brings a hand to rest underneath his chin. "um honestly i just like to listen to some music or something and a couple of stretches or what not"

"what kind of music?".

lewis is surprised you continued the conversation but is happy to oblige. he sits back in the chair and hesitates. "well you know it honestly depends on the day butat the moment hip hop and rap have been dominating my playlist".

the way he is looking at you as he as his arms crossed makes you feel flustered and you hope no one can tell but you are sure they can because you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

"c'mon ask me another question" george whines which causes everyone to laugh and makes you totally forget about lewis. as requested you ask george another question and repeat the process until you find yourself at the end.

"okay thank you everyone for watching the video hope you enjoy byeee"

you sigh in satisfaction as the camera switches off and everyone starts clapping. you are happy with how today went and especially when claire embraces you and admits she is proud of you.

"hey you did amazing today"

you turn to find george in front of you. "thanks idiot". he holds his arms open waiting for an embrace and in george's hold you look up to see lewis walking out with his team, only to your dismay.

you and george pull apart and he ruffles your hair and in response you give him a light tap on the shoulder. george consults his watch and when he notices the time he frowns. "okay sorry i got to go to another interview but good luck with rest of today"

"okay bye see you later"

he gives you a small side hug before running off in the same direction lewis went.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

just as you are finishing up your last few bits before heading home you are greeted by a familiar face. "hey y/n how's it going?" charles comes up to you gives you a hug and you reciprocate.

"i actually haven't seen you much around the paddock where have you been?

"i've actually been doing a couple of interviews" you say with a smile as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

his eyes widen. "omg no wayyy i'm so happy for you". charles had always been there for you to support you throughout college when getting your degree and now throughout the motorsport industry.

"thanks charles"

there is a silence as charles debates whether to bring up the topic or not. "i heard you and lewis were talking yesterday"

this catches your attention. "oh". you try not to sound too intrigued to where this conversation is going.

"i told lewis to stay away from you"

by those words you feel slightly hurt. i mean you did know that nothing could happen between you two but the fact that charles went out of his way to prevent it felt like a stab in the back.

"i'm just trying to protect you" charles says placing a hand on your shouldler.

"yeah yeah i know"

"it has only been a couple of months since ian......". at the mention of his name you shudder and charles notices.

"i'm sorry for bringing it up"

"it's okay but i know what you mean about the whole lewis thing and i get it it's fine"

charles nods and hugs you into his side.

you smile feeling comfort in his embrace. ever since george and charles had become friends you fell into the friendship also and would now consider charles one of your closest friends.

a ping from your phone causes you to pull away from him. your mouth goes dry and your breath hitches when you see the text message. ian had tried to reach out to you before but he had never threatened you before.

charles looked at you worried when he was aware of your shocked expression. "you okay?"

"um yeah yeah i'm fine but i should probably get going now"

charles is not sure if he should just let you go because he can tell something is bothering you. "um yeah okay"

you give charles one final hug. "see you tomorrow". you manage to throw him an uncertain wave and a half smile.

as charles watches you walk off he can't help but feel that you were lying top him but maybe he was just being superstitious.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

lewis is packing the last few bits into the boot of his car, feeling satisfied with todays outcome. just as he slams the boot closed he hears a noise that causes him to pause in his action.

it seems it is only coming from a few mere metres away. cautiously he walks closer to the noises, it sounds like screaming which put him on high alert. he wasn't prepared for what he would see in front of him.

you were holding a palm to your cheek as tears spilled down your face. a man held you by the collar shouting in your face.

lewis stood there in shock for a moment but it only took a matter of seconds for him to act.

"hey get the fuck off her what the fuck do you think you are doing?!"

the man turns once he hears the voice and pushes you away from him causing you to stumble and fall onto the ground.

lewis runs to stand in front of you protectively.

the man chuckles. "is this your new boy toy y/n?" he chuckles. "i always knew you were a slut like god we've only just broken up and you're onto the next guy".

lewis was trying to restrain himself, his fists in a ball, but that was his last straw. he brings his balled fist to meet the man's cheek causing him to stumble back and hold his injured face.

"i said get the fuck out of here" lewis repeats now through gritted teeth. this time the man doesn't argue and trudges away not even taking a glance back.

lewis immediately kneels down to check on you. "y/n are you okay?". he hated to see you like this and if he could he wouldn't beaten that guy to death. who the fuck would ever want to do that to someone, especially you.

you look up at him your cheeks tear stained and one bright red. you hiccup through the crying. "i'm um i'm fine t-thanks for that but you really didn't have to".

lewis helps you up and then wipes a stray tear from your face. "i did have to, i couldn't just let you get hurt".

"did you know this guy?"

you sigh and cross your arms around your body. "he was my ex"

at those words lewis puffs out a blow of air and brings his hands to his head. "why the fuck would he do that to you?" he points to your face.

you don't respond.

lewis bites on his lip unsure what to say to you as it is clear you are hurting. you still seemed pretty unsure around him but he wanted nothing more than to just hold you and wipe your tears until you had stopped crying.

"okay well there is no way you are driving home in your state so i'll give you a lift" lewis grabs the keys from your grasp.

"no"

"what do you mean no, this isn't an offer" lewis counteracts.

"i can drive myself home" you say bluntly.

"y/n please just let me-"

"no lewis you have already done enough stop trying to get involved an leave me alone" you couldn't let him get close to you, like ian had. you wouldn't let yourself get hurt again. ian had said he would always protect you so why should you believe a word lewis had to say you grab your keys from him and quickly hop in the drivers seat and before lewis can intervene you hit the gas.

lewis stands there in disbelief his hands over his head. he didn't know what to do. part of him wanted to report this to the police and to hope that the guy ended up behind bars but hell he didn't even know your last name. but you even so he cared. he cared so much that he picked up the phone and called charles.

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@rafeyybabyy

[umadosedepascal]

W I N N E R | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | PART VIII

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.

wc: 2.9k

rating/warnings: [a little drunk] [one spit][take a shower together][ride on thigh][Pedro begging in Spanish][little fluffy][Smut][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f]

a/n: This was kind of a request. Enjoy whoever asked us for it! And sorry if there’s any mistakes on our English.Pedro was freaking HOT that night MY GOSH!Consider commenting and reblogging if you like it!

Its been a busy beginning of the year, Pedro has a lot of work going on and you as well.

You can barely see each other but when there's an opportunity to meet you just jump on it by him invinting you or just to be there at the same event.

When he won the People's Choice Award you just had to call him congratulating for the winning, and while you were talking he told you he was going to fly back to LA for SAG awards and really wanted to see you before come back to Canada.

That news made your day, and you had a good feeling that he was going for good.

Unfortunatelly you couldnt attend the award not even the after party for other reasons but you kept texting insanely each other during the event.

Pedro P: Hey honey, I'm already here. drinking some Casamigos with awesome people, wish you were here...

You: It's ok babe, have fun tonite! I bet you going to win and we can celebrate later..

Pedro P: Not sure, my dear. Kieran is taking them all 🥲 can't wait to see you later tonite.

You are laying on your couch with pajamas watching the award and his category comes up with an surprisingly announcement. Pedro wins, you start screaming on your apartment like your team scored on final championship.

DAMN, you are so proud of him and turn up the volume just to hear his speech loud and clear. Well, wasn't one of the best ones but you swirl your glass of wine bitting your bottom lip while he is saying he is a bit drunk and tear up with him as he mention how important this is for himself.

You realize is time to get ready to meet him, you let the TV on while going to take a shower and hear he's back live with Tan on backstage interview. It looked like more shenanigans than possible. The moment you hear him saying he would make out with Kieran and this is his revenge you automatically raise your phone for a sassiest nude pic and send him..

You: So, you want to make out with me or him? 🤣

You know he is buzzed and feeling the moment and know his not going to reply so soon but still piss and laughing at the same time.

After a couple hours you get a message

Pedro P: Mine or yours?

You: Inside me

Pedro P: This is what I wanted to. I will be there in 20.

You: Come to me Don Juan

Pedro P: haha 🤣

It's 1:30 am and you debating with your sleep just to keep yourself awake and see that Chilean Don Juan appear in front of your door. To keep it up you still drinking and looking at the app because he always share his location with you. Not to bother, you just wait with patience and see its moving faster. Means that he is coming towards your place. Your heart starts to accelerate and definitely you cannot wait to see him holding that heavy award on his hands..

You live in a quiet neighbour in West Hollywood, nothing happens like the crazyness on the other side. You sit in front of your door wearing a comfy robe when his car approaches the street.

"MAMA I WON!" He screams while getting off the car

You are like "SSSSH Pedro! It's 2 in the morning..😂"

Pedro holds you leading you back to your house and closing the door behind him.

"I'm so proud of you, even you saying those things on live TV, you were so funny, light and emotional. Can you believe I cried when you got on that stage saying anything but everything?"

"Yeah I, I, I was drunk babe..haha"

He leaves his award carefully by the door on the floor and when he comes back up to you his hands are already on your thighs sliding up giving you shivers and taking off your robe for good. Pedro holds the back of your neck while licking on it tracing a pat to your right ear saying "I win twice tonite huh..”

He grabs your hand and make you feel his hardon throught his pants, you let out a soft moan and rub your hands harshly on him, your mouths meet each other in a sloppy wet kiss. You can feel the taste of tequila and his tongue is tender and he is gentle on you.

You keep on your toes and whisper in his ear "are you sure this is all for me? Isn't it for Kieran or the other thousand people you wee flirting P?"

Pedro looks at you, those brown eyes getting darker, he raises an eyebrow and moves away from you, your heart beating faster when you see that man going to the middle of your living room.

Pedro stops and looks at you,

"Do you really think my cock is hard like that because of anyone other than you and this tight pussy?"

Each word Pedro was saying, he was opening a button on his shirt, so slowly that you felt your legs soften with every inch of skin that was emerging in front of you.

"Eyes on my dear, tell me, do you know how hard I got when I saw that pic you’ve sent me? How did I have to disguise it by holding my award?"

The last button is undone and Pedro takes his clothes off quickly now just on his undies. He sits in the sofa, legs open, he pops out a cigarette, you face him petrified, the way Pedro takes your living room, how this room seems ten times smaller and warmer with him there.

Pedro lights up the cigarette and drags it slowly, his head falling on the back of the sofa.

"Come here mama" he pats his left thigh twice. The view of him with the cigarette hanging on his lips, shirtless, the slightly reddish skin, the curls on his forehead, and those eyes that look like a burning brown sea drives you crazy.

You sigh, approach and ride on his left thigh.

You take the cigarette out of his mouth, take a drag and land on the ashtray.

While making sudden movements on his thigh you hold his jaw squeezing his cheeks and say "so, it means we have a winner here..." putting two fingers in his mouth, he sucks them and say softly.. "go down, I want to see how wet you are for me" you obey with a peck on his lips.

Sliding down your left hand through his hot chest giving a quick pass through the bulge over his boxers. the feeling is very hot and pleasurable..moving the fabric away from your panties you dip one finger only and move back into his mouth.

He opens his mouth slowly giving permission for you to pass on his lips and that was enough for him to hold the edges of your panties and strip down making you get up quickly and get rid of it.

Sitting back again on his thigh and making more abrupt movements and wetting him completely, a feeling of drowning, a smell of sex and expensive perfume with the taste of tequila coming from that mouth.

Pedro guides your hand to his cock and asks with some difficulty to caress him the way he likes it.

You drag your nails through the contour of his cock, the wet fabric of pre cum shows how Pedro is looking forward to you. You stroke his thighs, going up and down slowly, feeling how his skin chills, how his stomach contracts when your fingers get close to his cock.

You take back the cigarette and drag looking at him, your head falling to the side, watching how he seems lost and anxious.

“You look so beautiful kneeling to me," Pedro says taking the cigarette off your fingers.

Biting your lip you hold the sides of his undies, Pedro raises his hips helping you, the fabric going down his legs, you throw it to the floor.

Pedro holds his throbbing cock with his right hand, uncut, thick and veiny with a swolen red head looking like a huge strawberry, he makes movements up and down.

"Déjame sentir esa boca mama. Please" he says with half close eyes and husky voice.

You approach and hold his cock over his hand, squeezing and feeling how he pulsates. You lick the wet tip of pre cum, looking into his eyes you slowly suck only the tip, Pedro takes his hand off the cock and holds the armchair stroking it, cursing softly while you lick and teases him with your tongue.

"You're so hot, I've been wishing to suck you all night" before Pedro can answer you put his cock in your mouth, feeling the tip hit your throat, you feel him pulsating on your tongue, the bittersweet taste of the pre cum invading your throat. Pedro runs his hand in your hair, moving in circles encouraging you to swallow more, you choke but don't take him out of your mouth.

"Shit! I love it when you do that. Don't stop!"

You look into his eyes, Pedro wiping the tear that accumulates in the corner of your eyes. You take him out of your mouth just to jack him off while sucking his balls, Pedro throws his head back and moans loudly, no caring if anyone will hear him.

"Gosh! You're going to kill me"

You go up with your tongue licking his length, until you reach the tip you swallow it again feeling Pedro grabbing your hair tightly, guiding how he wants to fuck your mouth.

"Por favor…”

You feel that Pedro is about to cum in your mouth, with a pop you let it go and ask looking up at him "will there be a second round, babe?"

With his eyes closed and his mouth half open he nods a yes and you grab him again passing his tongue with more intensity on the frenum. He lets out a dense moan slightly squeezing the sides of your temple and arches his hip releasing jets of hot cum in your mouth. Pedro's moans get louder as you swallow his hot juice by sliding your nails on his thighs making him having goosebumps.

You get up and sit again on him facing front, caressing his graysh beard and kissing his neck and corner of mouth. He mouths a lazy smile biting his lower lip and says "I want more, I don't want it to end like this today without me satisfying you..."

Pedro looks at you from the corner of his eye, pointing to your bedroom.

“..taste you Ma’am..."

Lifting you up on his lap, you interlace your legs on his hip and he goes towards your bed throwing you into it and opening your legs with his knees.

He starts kissing your knees looking up at you, going down to your thighs alternating between each one licking and giving light nibbles, sometimes some bites that will leave you marks making you complain with pleasure "stop, Pedro"

"Stop?"

"No, no, keep going.." giggling.

This time Pedro went straight to the pot licking the sides of your folders, holding your hips pulling you to him so you can reach his curly hair, already messy and sweaty.

He fucks you with his tongue, grunting while smearing himself from you, you feel your pussy pinching with his beard constantly scrubbing against your skin. he alternates between licking, and sucking on your clit leaving on the edge.

"Cum to me babe, you're so delicious... I missed you"

You feel your pussy contract, squeezing, your stomach on fire, a hot numbness taking over your body. Pedro moans against your pussy while sucking on it, begging you to cum for him.

"Cum in my mouth cum in my whole face, babe"

Pedro spits onto your pussy, a long line of saliva while his eyes do not detach from yours. He fucks you with his tongue, his pretty aquiline nose poking your sensitive clit.

"Pedro! Sn't it!" You shout his name, cumming on his tongue, his hands squeezing you, snakeing your body, leaving scratches.

"Every day more delicious" Pedro crawls on top of you, finding your lips he kisses you, you feel his hard cock again against your thigh.

Pedro moves away kneeling on the edge of the bed, you don't even have time to assimilate before you feel him pull you by the ankles, causing your legs to curl around his waist.

Pedro holds his cock hard cock with his right hand and rubs the tip against your swollen clit, you moan when he slide the tip in your pussy.

"So fucking tight..ah”

He takes off and stimulate you again, and so he does one, two, three times teasing you.

"Please papi, fuck me…"

Pedro growls looking at you, he holds his cock by the base and push into you. You two moaning together, that little pain mixed with pleasure taking over your body, Pedro seems like a sex God, a fallen angel looking at your pussy while

fucking you deep, his lips half-open, the side vein of his neck pulsating, drops of sweat accumulating on his forehead...

Pedro grabs your waist, sitting on the bed and rolling you on top of him. He holds your ass making you rub on it, the feeling of his cock so deep in your pussy.

You lean on him, sinking your mouth into his sweaty neck while he already without forces slaps you in the cheeks holding firmly making you move up and down. with a low grun he lifts you slightly and fucks you even harder. the sound of skin to skin and his moans mix while he pumps you in order to reach his climax but you give in first leaving his cock wetter and slippery, making it escape more than once from inside you but he quickly guides his hard cock again inside until he grabs you tight on your waist and cums hot inside you saying cursed things. You quickly shut him up kissing him roughly.

The kiss turns sloppy, and decreases as your lungs fight for air.

Pedro kisses your jaw, his tongue passing through your neck, leaving a bite on your right shoulder. He lies on the bed, still with his dick inside you, he smiles as if he were high. You watch him, his eyes closed, the satisfied smile on his lips, the curls of his hair now completely wet with sweat.

You bend over and kiss his collarbone, raising your tongue to his neck, feeling the salty of his skin. Unique.

"Are you trying a third round?" He says opening only one eye and looking at you. You laugh coming out of him, immediately missing the feeling of his cock inside you.

"Come, take a shower with me"

The bath is relaxing, the warm water falling on you, Pedro kisses you while you pass the soap through his body, it is sensual and calm.

You tell him to turn around, passing the soap behind his back, leaving a kiss on the back of his newly operated shoulder, he laughs and turns to you, kissing your lips calmly, taking advantage of every inch of your mouth. It's so relaxing that you feel your muscles give way every time he hugs you next to his body.

While you talk and get dry, Pedro tells you about how he doesn't remember anything of the speech, that he was so nervous and happy that he just said what came to his mind, and blames himself for not having thanked more people.

"You made a beautiful speech, Pedro, I’m serious"

He smiles and holds your hand.

"Can I ask for something? Can you wear my shirt? From the minute Julie gave it to me, I imagined how beautiful you would look wearing it. Hah”

You smile at his request, nodding your head giving a quick kiss on his lips, you send him to bed and run to the living room. You just see chaos, clothes thrown on the floor, ashtray, glass of drink and TV on. You find the shirt on the couch, you put it on not wearing anything underneath, leaving the same amount of buttons open that he left during that night.

The moment you head to the room, he brought the trophy to the bedside table and catches your attention, you take it, looking at his name engraved, smiling, happy for him.

"Papi I’m a winner!" You mimic him when he told you in the early evening, raising the heavy trophy.

You walk slowly to the side of the bed, leaving the trophy on the bedside table. Pedro climbs his right hand down the back of your thigh, gently squeezing your ass, looking at you while his left hand plays with one of the buttons on the shirt.

"Jesus, you look so sexy! Much better than I imagined. Come here" Pedro whispers looking at you.

You know exactly what that look means. The night will really have no end.

———————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 8

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, blood, car accident

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

Amberly takes a sip from her pumpkin latte, keeping her face patient as her student rambles on about their summer vacation. She glances at the timer. Three more minutes and then this call can be over-

So I can do what? Go home and shut down?

Yeah, pretty much.

She pushes her hair back from her face. It’s still damp from her shower that morning, smelling faintly of lavender from the shampoo. Tiredness is seeping into her bones and filling her up like lead. 

I don’t know if I can do this anymore.

Her student finally tells her goodbye and Amberly clicks the end call button, leaning back in her chair and letting relief sweep over her in waves. She takes off her glasses to rub her eyes. Lately it seems like any sleep is not enough, no matter how early she goes to bed or keeps her eyes closed. 

Why am I even staying in this?

Her lips tighten. Breaking up had never been a possibility for them- seemed like one, at least. They’ve been dating since second year at Hogwarts. The thought of not being with Remus had simply never crossed her mind. He was hers, her person, who she’d thought cared about her and loved her beyond measure.

Now she’s not so sure. 

A hand slams down on the table in front of her and a yelp claws its way out of her throat as she recoils, jerking her coffee towards her and slopping it over her wrist. Amberly glares up at Sirius, her shock being replaced by annoyance. “Pads, you asshole”-

He grins at her. “Would you like some napkins? Sorry for the spill.”

She scowls. “Napkins and a signed apology, please.”

Sirius tosses his jacket over her head. “Any food?”

Amberly shoots him a death glare as she pulls the leather off her hair and throws it on the seat next to her. “I’m not hungry, thank you very much.”

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“I don’t want a sandwich.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted one. I said you’re getting one.”

“I didn’t ask if I was getting one. I said I didn’t want one.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, turning on his heel and heading to the counter. “Yap, yap, yap. Too bad.”

“How are things?” asks Sirius a few minutes later, sitting across from Amberly in the booth. He runs a hand through his untidy black hair. “I bet you’re loving this cooler weather.”

Amberly nods. “I am, yeah. I can’t believe winter is coming.”

She wraps her jacket tighter around herself and Sirius narrows his eyes. He’s known Amberly for a long time now, a bit longer even than Remus has known her. And he can tell that she’s lying. 

Her eyes are dark and circled with shadows, and her skin looks paler than usual, even in the warm light of the cafe. She’s gotten thinner, too. Visibly thinner, enough for her cheekbones to be more prominent. 

Sirius pushes the sandwich at her. “Eat it.”

She scowls at him. “No.”

“Eat it or perish.”

“Perish.”

He unwraps it and shoves it into her hand, and she rolls her eyes before taking a tiny bite out of the corner. Inwardly, Sirius feels relief that she’s eating, but he knows damn well that there’s another reason she looks like she’s been awake for a century and a half.

“How’s Moony?”

The question seems to catch Amberly off guard, and she takes her time to chew and swallow before responding. “He’s okay. More used to the meds, now. I think the full moon isn’t quite as bad for him.”

Sirius tilts his head at her. “Is he? I tried calling a few days ago and he never picked up.”

“Oh.” Amberly picks at a thumbnail, not making eye contact. “He’s not the best with answering his phone and stuff”-

“Stuff it,” retorts Sirius. “This man used to stay up till two in the fucking morning so he could chit-chat with you. It won’t kill him to pick up the phone for his oldest friend”-

“He doesn’t really talk to me anymore,” mumbles Amberly. She half-hopes Sirius won’t hear it. Tears are swimming in her throat and she cannot, will not, let them out. That’s why Remus was mad at me. I was too much. I can’t do that again.

But Sirius’ sharp ears prick at the words. “What?”

She shrugs, setting down the sandwich and staring at her hands in her lap. She doesn’t trust herself to look up.

Sirius leans across the table to touch her hand. “Amberly, you know you can tell me anything, right? Are things okay with you and Moony?”

Amberly bites her lip. She can feel her eyes start to swim and swell with tears. “Things are fine.”

She can’t hide the wobble in her voice.

Sirius drapes her leather jacket over her shoulders and the tears come out, spotting her shirt all down her front and splashing onto the table. She’s shaking now, sobbing harder, and Sirius folds her in his arms and strokes her hair like a sister.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” she gasps finally, smearing at her eyes and leaning back. “I was too much. He said I was too clingy. I don’t want to be that again, I can’t”-

Sirius’ hands tighten around hers. “What did he say to you exactly?”

Amberly’s eyes flicker. “He told me that he didn’t want me.” Another sob wells up in her throat as she remembers those words, hurled across space to shatter her like porcelain. “That I was too clingy.”

Sirius pulls her to her feet, jaw tight and eyes dangerously bright. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” asks Amberly, trying to wipe her face and tie her hair back from where it’s sticking to the tears. “I need to pack”-

“I’m getting your stuff and then you’re coming with me to James and Lily’s. You’re not staying with Moony, staying in this state of things,” he seethes. “Not till Moony gets some sense in his head or I beat it into him.”

Amberly stumbles after him to the door.

“Can you drop me off here?” yells Amberly over the roar of the engine. 

Sirius looks back over his shoulder. They’re at the stop sign just down the street from her house, his long legs resting on the ground on either side of the motorcycle. “Why? I can take you all the way.”

She slides off the back before he can further protest. “If he’s asleep I don’t want the noise to wake him”-

He got so mad last time when Sirius drove me home. I can’t do that again. I’ll break, I know I will.

Sirius rolls his eyes as she hands him the helmet. “It won’t kill him, you know”-

Amberly shrugs, looking down. “I just don’t want there to be trouble.”

“Fine. But you better be back here in ten minutes or I’m gunning it for your driveway.”

She nods, continuing down the street to their house as Sirius pulls over to the curb.

There’s a hot, heavy pulse in her ears, and her hands feel like they’re tingling. He’ll be mad, I know he will. If he sees me…

All she can see, all she can think of, are memories of her and Remus.

The times they’d gone for night walks down this street, fingers interlocked through wooly mittens…the time they had been to the bakery and brought home fresh bread and hot chocolate…the way he’d picked her up and swung her around every time he came home…the warmth of his arms around her and his cheek on her hair…

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t hear the car coming. 

A screech of tires, a dull thud, and Amberly is on the ground. Her rich brown hair threads through the leaves in the gutter as red begins trickling over the dirt.

The driver’s face is white.

They swing the car into reverse, hands shaking, and peel away.

Amberly doesn’t move.

Two minutes later Sirius is kneeling next to her, fingers trembling as he babbles into the phone. 

“Nine-nine-nine, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s my friend. She’s dying...”

[sociopathicartist]

Heya! I was wondering if u could do a headcanon of how Sans would act to being at disneyland with his S/O for the first time??

hey! thank you for requesting these, this was light-hearted and fun:) i’ve never been to disneyland before so forgive me if some of my stuff wasn’t correct, i’m going off of what i see online.

UT Sans Disneyland headcanons.

Being at Disneyland didn’t appeal much to Sans at first. Why? Standing in 2-hour lines for a ride and seeing characters from movies he didn’t get to watch growing up just wasn’t a very appealing idea to him, at the least, he could only see himself going if Papyrus wanted him to.

So when you suggested the idea on a random whim one night in bed, it took a bit of convincing to get him to go with you. It was a good portion of money that the both of you’d be spending, and he just wasn’t sure if the price would be worth it for the experience.

But eventually, your pleas got to him, and he finally gave in.

➭ road trip

Sans surprisingly did enjoy the drive down to disneyland.

He drove the whole way there for you. Since you took care of him in many other aspects of your domestic life, so when it came to things like cooking or driving, he always jumped the gun and made sure it wasn’t a task of yours.

He kept playing eye-spy the entire way down with you, stopping at the gas station for snacks (a lot more often than he should have), and jamming out to some tunes with you on the radio. He didn’t want you to be bored on the drive there, and his hand somehow kept sneaking its way over to your thigh and mindlessly rubbing up and down without any further motives while you two talked.

➭ hanging out at the hotel

You didn’t ask him, but you were pretty sure that Sans’ favorite part of the whole trip was getting to stay in one of the resort hotels. He always loved staying in the hotels when you went anywhere, which evened out since you also loved doing the same with him, but he was enthralled with the rooms. Why was there disneyland on the headboard of the bed? Why was the carpet fireworks? Why was this bed so damn comfortable? He probably could have sunk into the mattress and stayed there the whole time if you hadn’t pried him away from his all-famous napping sessions.

He also really liked just collapsing on the bed after being outside all day, and if you got within an arm-length radius of him you’d be pulled down onto the bed, trapped with him, and most likely not to be seen again until morning.

‘uh-oh, seems you’re stuck here with me now.’

‘Sansss, don’t do this again, I have to get showered off and changed.’

‘tough, my bones are locking up around you, can’t let you go, babe.’

➭ going around the park

Surprisingly despite his doubts, Sans actually had a lot of fun on the disney rides. He obviously wasn’t a big fan of the lines you both had to wait in and despite the looks you got from other people around you, he kept clinging to you like velcro the entire wait while you both talked to pass the time. You couldn’t blame him, even though he didn’t have skin and the heat didn’t really bother him, he didn’t like standing still for so long without doing anything.

He wasn’t too big of a fan of getting photos with some of the characters, (you could have sworn that he was a bit shy about it), but he did put on some silly mickey mouse ears and snag some fun pictures with you for whatever princesses or mascots you wanted to see. It was just a little bit harder for him to relate to wanting to see the characters that much since he didn’t watch these movies growing up in the underground, but he did love seeing you happy about it.

➭ snacks and food

This may be a huuuge shock, but Sans really liked the snacks and meals. Despite his ick for the expensive price tags, he was almost always dragging you to get snacks with him every time he saw something he could eat. These snacks were just so weird and a bit cool to him, food wasn't mickey mouse shaped or disney movie themed back at home.

‘baby, babe, try this.’

‘Sans, isn’t that your fourth one? Do you want to go get something else to munch on instead?’

‘ehehe, i know something else i’d like to munch on.’

He also really liked the themed dinners, it was pretty cool being able to see characters come out and walk around the tables while you both ate. Needless to say, this man was pretty satisfied with your meal options during your trip.

➭ souvenirs

Sans did find quite a few things he wanted to bring back for Papyrus and your other friends, mostly just cute little trinkets or figures. He did take fondly to some of the more sci-fi stuff they had there, and he couldn’t help but grab some stuff he liked that he swore he’d be able to find a place for back at home in your shared bedroom.

He wasn’t a big fan of the themed shirts, but with some convincing, you both got a matching pyjama set that you said you’d make him wear with you since he held up a doll of stitch and said that it looked identical to you.

‘babe, you can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.’

‘Sans, I love you, but it’s time to put the stitch doll down.’

‘i guess you’re right, humans aren’t blue anyway.’

[gojo-enthusiast]

Your Birthday (R)

Series: My Husband Toji Zenin

November was a great month in your husbands eyes, 1. The weather cooled down, which meant he would go and watch the boat racing comfortably. 2. The food. And 3. Your birthday. Despite your husband being a rough calloused man, your birthday was very important to him. Showering you with gifts, fancy dinners, sex, the kind of sex YOU like. Your birthday he wouldn’t even think about getting pleasure, just pleasuring you. But you always would insist on him cumming with you, saying that it made you happy.

You woke up later than usual, your eyes heavy, and your body groggy. “Good morning Doll.” Toji said sweetly, handing you your favorite latte from your favorite Cafe down the street. “Oh baby.” You smile. “Food is on its way, Chicken and Waffles.” He smiles, “My faaaavorite.” You emphasize the favorite, stretching your arms out for a hug. Toji engulfed you, swelling your body into his embrace. “Get up, go shower, and by the time you get out, your food should be here.” He kisses your forehead. “Yay okay!” You jump up, already hearing the shower running for you.

You get out the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe. “Toji?” You say out loud, not seeing him in the bedroom. “Satoru, I understand this is a very important account, I have showed them floor 87, at least 4 times now. They either need to sign or move along—“ Toji is saying to Satoru over the phone. “Satoru, it’s my wife’s birthday.” He says back. “I don’t care if it’s going to take an hour, that’s an hour taken from my wife.” Toji spits back, you could see his left fist clenching on the granite. “Why is this not something you can handle?” Toji hisses, “I don’t give a fuck if they want me. Take the damn contract, I don’t want it if it’s going to take away from my time with my fucking wife!” He shouts. “Fuck— I’ll be there in 45 minuets. You owe me.” Toji spits out, hanging up on Satoru. You laced your arms around his waist, making him flinch from surprise. “You have to go to work?” You kiss the middle of his back. Toji turns around, picking you up, you wrap your legs around his waist. He plants his lips onto yours, deepening the kiss. “Toji—“ You moan out. “Fuck, don’t sound like that. You’ll make it harder for me to leave.” He throws his head back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Sorry.” You kiss his jawline. “Satoru is gonna get it.” Toji groans. “I gotta go.” He huffs, walking into the shared bedroom. You start to eat your breakfast, drenching it in syrup. “I hope he’s quick.” You think to yourself. A few minutes later, you see your husband in a dress shirt, slacks and his dress shoes. You see him clamping his watch on, and he has a button unbuttoned that gave more of a chilled yet professional look.

“No.” You say. “What?” He questions. You saw the way his biceps bulged, and the way his ass was firm and perky in his slacks. “You look so sexy oh mah gad.” You say, with syrup falling from your lip. You’re practically drooling at this point. “Ill be back princess.” He says wiping the syrup from your lip, and licking his thumb. “Oh no, please don’t leave.” You groan. He was just so god damn sexy. “Oh no wait hold on!” You shout out, chasing him to the door. “Please of god please let me take a picture.” You groan. “Princess, I have to go.” He says. “Just one second please.” You smile, grabbing your phone, and snapping a photo of him chuckling. “Oh my god, Toji. I will have this engraved in my mind for eternity. I love you so much.” You dramatically say. “I love you doll, I’ll be back soon. I left my card on the dresser, go have fun.” He smiles, leaning down, kissing your lips.

You spent part of the day going to little shops in town, Toji wanted you to spoil yourself, but nothing really was appealing to you. Until you found a matching pajama set, buying that and some coffee, you looked down at your Apple Watch, seeing that it had been three hours since Toji left. “I miss him” You frown. You feel your phone buzz, you pull it out, seeing your friends Chrissy is calling, so you answer. “Hey!” You smile, “Hey bitch— happy birthday! Whatcha doing?” She asks, “Oh I’m at the town square next to my house. Toji is working unfortunately.” You say. “What! No! I’ll meet you there, I’m like 5 minuets away!” You friend says.

And thats how you spent your day, you and your friend went to store after store, window shopping, eating pastries, and heading back to your house to watch movies. “When will your man be home?” Chrissy says, “honestly I thought he was supposed to come home earlier, so I don’t know.” You frown. You love your friends, but you had much rather spent the day with Toji. A couple hours go bye, you hadn’t realized you fell asleep on the couch, you look beside you and Chrissy is not around. You grab your phone checking the time—

Chrissy: hey babes, you fell asleep so I let myself out. Have a good birthday! Love ya!

You set your phone down, seeing it was 11PM. You hear the lock on the door click, which means your husband is home. You perk up, seeing your distressed husband, with his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, and his hair looked like he had been running his hands through it, which he usually does when he’s stressed.

“Hey my love.” You say softly, embracing him as he takes his shoes off. “I missed you.” You whisper, smelling cigarettes all over his clothes. “Doll, I smell of cigarettes and sweat.” He groans, peeling you off of him. “Let me go shower.” He says in a hush tone. You had followed him to the bathroom, and watched as he unloosened his belt, and peeled off his dress shirt. Standing there in his boxers, you saw his manhood that was clearly throbbing all day. He pulled them down, letting his cock spring right out, you saw the way he was leaking, and how it twitched just standing there. “Baby, I love you.” He eyed you. “I-I love you too.” You said, feeling the lump in your throat. “I want to make you feel good, I really do. I want to give you the birthday you deserve, especially sex. But I really need to have my release.” He groaned as he stroked his cock. You instantly undressed yourself, slipping in the shower before him. Signaling for him to come on in, and join you. “Fuck—“ he groaned, he stepped in, and instantly held yourself against the bar in the shower and bent over. “All for you.” You side eye. “Fuck, baby are you sure?” He says, placing his tip on your core. You nod in agreement. He slowly begins to push himself inside of you, and in an instant, he fully thrust in, not even letting you adjust. He began to thrust brutally, chasing his own release. You moaned and cried at the stretch. It felt so painfully amazing, you arched your back, and let him hold your waist as he fucked you raw.

“Yes— yes Toji.” You moan, you knew you would wake up the next day and wouldn’t be able to walk, but in the moment it was all you wanted to feel. He begin to thrust at a certain speed that kissed your G-spot so perfectly. Making you moan out. One thing about Toji, is he is a brutal man, he loved to watch you cry as he fucked you, he was feral when he did so. He heard a silent sob come out of your mouth, he spun you around and picked you up. “You cryin?” He groaned. “N-no” you said as the water sprayed your face. Toji’s manhood still throbbing, he hadn’t released yet. “FUCK!” he shouts. “Dry the fuck off now.” He spits out, both of you stepping out of the shower. You hurriedly rush drying off, he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, slapping your ass ungodly hard. “Ah! Toji!” you yelp. “Shut the fuck up.” He hissed. You could tell he was fuming, not at you. His job, Satoru, the fact he couldn’t spend your birthday with you. And the only way this man could let it go, was either drinking, or fucking you, or both.

Toji lied you on the bed, then walking out the room. He came back with a bottle of wine, already opened. Taking a swig. “You want some?” He huffed, you nodded. “Words!” He shouted. “Yes sir.” You say, knowing that is tipping over the edge. He pours some in his mouth, then grabs you by your neck and head and you open your mouth, letting the wine trickle in your mouth into your throat. He was trying to ease you, you knew what he was about to put you through wasn’t going to be the loving man you’re so used to, it was in this moment you understood why he was fucking other women after he got off work on a stressful day. The last thing he wanted to do, was put his sweet wife through a brutal fucking.

“I’m going to fuck you. And you will have to handle it.” He kissed your forehead sweetly. “Yes daddy.” You nod, a little wine dripping down your breast. “Fuck.” He groans. “Open your fuckin mouth.” He hissed, you did exactly as he said, he tapped the tip of his cock against your bottom lip. Then he shoved his cock deep into your mouth and throat. You knew how to take your husband’s cock into your throat, but it was a surprise, and you weren’t ready. But getting fucked by Toji, you don’t get that chance. He begin to fuck your mouth, forcing your head against his base. “Mm” you groan against his cock, you felt yourself struggling to breathe, he pulled you by your hair to look up at him. He had the phone camera in his hand, as he used your hair to control your movements. “Such a dirty little slut.” He groans. “Fuck just like that.” He groaned as he felt you swirl your tongue around. He finally pulled out of you, and you finally catching your breath.

He pushed you done, instantly putting your legs over his shoulder, fucking you raw. “T-To-!” You moan out loudly. “Hush.” He said stuffing a finger into your mouth. “Your pussy is talking to me.” He said, thrusting faster. You moaned out, sucking on his finger, he pulled out, flipping you around, instantly fucking you from behind. He leaned down, sucking on different spots of your back to mark you all up. He then turned you side ways, fucking you even deeper and harder. “Toji please slow down.” You moan, feeling your body is about to break. He then put you back on your back, fucking you fast and choking you lightly. “Fuck!” He would hiss, slapping your face, not hard enough to hurt, but also not light enough to not feel it. He leaned down, his face over your face. “Pussy feels so good.” He groaned. Planting kissing on your neck, and then marking you all over. You knew when you woke up, you would find hickies all over your neck and chest, which meant you were not to leave the house unless you want to be stared at. You hadn’t realized how much of a possessive man Toji is.

He slammed into you as one hand started to playing with your clit, and the other one was holding himself up. “I’m gonna cum. Take it.” He groaned, “toji it’s too much.” You cried, tears pulling down. “No— take it slut. I’m gonna fuck you until you give me a child. Fuck—“ he groaned, “Toji, baby please.” You cried, your body spasming. You just needed him to slow down a little. But Toji was feral, your tears were only fueling his desire. “Fuck yes—“ he groaned loudly, rubbing your clit faster, slapping your pussy. You begin to spasm, feeling your legs give out. And that’s when it finally happened. He came deep inside, while you squirt and creamed all over his cock. He continued the rub, while you clawed and cried for him to let go. You lost all your strength to even speak, just sobbing in pure ecstasy. You had been satisfied sexually from your husband, but never in this way. Toji was sending you the straight overstimulation, erupting a second orgasm, making you squirt again and again. “Fuck yes you dirty fucking whore.” He moaned out, fucking his seed deep into you. “Take that, take all of it.” He hissed, pulling you into his lips, kissing your fucked out face. Your body went limp, you no longer could move, but you feel everything. “Fuck!” He hissed, fucking you again, wanting another release. He did that for 10 minutes, while your body spawned and you sobbed. He kept fucking you until he came 3 times, and you passed out. Finally peeling himself off of you, and seeing he had completely fucked out his wife.

“Shit!” He groaned, seeing the way his seed spilled out of your cunt so deliciously, he scooped it up, pushing it back inside of you. “You’re gonna make me a father.” He whispered into your ear. “You keep my babies inside of that tight pussy.” He said, kissing your temple. You felt as if you weren’t even a person anymore.

You woke up, and you were lying in the bath with your husband behind you, he was washing your hair. You dozed right back to sleep, you couldn’t even comprehend anything that was happening. You woke up again to the sun slowly peeking through the window, you were engulfed in your husband’s embrace, you both were naked and clean.

“You okay doll?” Toji muttered. Your body ached, and you felt bruised everywhere. “I feel as if I was hit by a car.” You groaned. Feeling the way your cunt was throbbing and sore. “I’m so sorry doll.” He kissed your forehead. “I have never wanted to do that to you.” He groaned. Hiding his face in your hair. “Is that what you did to the other women?” You asks innocently. “Doll.” He said quietly. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” You said kissing his jawline. “Yeah.” He huffed. “Well I’m grateful I’m the only one who gets to see sweet Toji. Because I don’t think I could handle mean Toji everyday.” You giggle. “I’m sorry baby.” He embraced you. “It’s okay. It felt amazing, it was just a lot for me to take.” You giggled again. “I promise I’ll make it up to you— once you… heal.” He groaned, feeling his cock start to ache again. “Toji!” You slapped his chest. “It’s alright, I’ll do it myself.” He chuckled, pulling his cock out, fisting himself. While you drifted off to sleep to the sweet sounds of your husband groaning your name.

[magicxc]

Square Up

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader - things they do that annoy you

Word Count: 1029

Warnings: none

A/N: You know what really grinds my gears? When people are cruising on the road at 8am. Bitch move over, I’m literally late for work 😭 

Lol that being said, here’s some everyday routines where I think the guys would be most annoying. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren - leaves the big pot to soak.

You’re thankful for the help you really are, but you’d be even more thankful if Eren didn’t half ass the job. Albeit some of those food stains are really stubborn and just refuse to move, but every time? Not even! One day you had put on a pot of water to bring some potatoes to a boil, eager to stuff your face with the fluffy goodness of your handmade garlic mashed potatoes. And sure enough when dinner was long gone there the pot sat atop the stove, unwashed, because it needed “to soak.” You get it, Eren hates doing the dishes but you might actually cry the day you walk into the kitchen and meet the sink empty. You've complained about it on occasion but truth be told it doesn't bother you as much as it used to. He's even gotten creative and started hiding the pots in the oven and you can't help but giggle, closing the door so as to keep his "secrets" hidden.

Levi - adds water to the empty soap bottle to make it last longer.

Levi lives a somewhat frugal lifestyle and it has everything to do with his upbringing. Thankfully he’s a lot less stingy than he used to be, but this habit in particular has been the hardest to kick; and you just about pull your hair out every time. It's not even like there's not enough soap to spare. It's mostly him getting the most use out of the lingering soapy particles as he can. Surely it no longer serves its protective purposes, no matter how sudsy the results are? You've  since learned to keep an extra bottle of personal soap in the cabinets for such a time, bringing it to the countertops once Levi has exhausted all efforts with the previous one. 

Erwin - loud eater.

It’s not even an Erwin thing to be honest, it’s a people thing. Slurpers, suckers, gulpers, they can all get it. Cause why? The only people who can actively change the way they eat are the open mouthers, so you don't even waste your time with the Commander. Some background noise on the tv or radio can help you through most meals, but it doesn't stop your skin from crawling at the idea or pause in noise volume. 

Connie - leaves a swig of juice left in the carton. 

This one blows literal steam out of your ears because what was even the point. If an 8 ounce glass of orange juice was just poured and there’s 2 ounces left, just finish the damn thing. You’ve heard excuses ranging from he didn’t want to because then he’d feel bad for not leaving you any to he simply wasn't thirsty enough the last gulp; but none of those ever make it better. Connie still does this but makes an extra effort to hide the carton in the deepest part of the fridge for when he’s ready to finish its contents. 

Jean - revs his engine loud as hell.

At first you thought it couldn't be helped until one day you had to borrow Jeans car to run a few errands. Then it all clicked. This mf wants to be seen. He wants people to know it's his engine with all that horsepower beneath the hood. He wants any chance he has to show off his sleek ride that he’s worked so hard for. Unfortunately it's all at the expense of your eardrums and now you only ride with Jean out of necessity. When you do ride with him, however, you make sure to roll all the windows up, not that it helps much.

Onyankopon - uses all the hot water after a shower. 

While it is annoying you don't mind this one so much during the summer time or the night time. But it just about drives you nuts in the morning and during the winter months because not only are you now running late for work waiting for some hot water to kick in but if it doesn't in time, now you have to suffer through a cold and uncomfortable shower. You've since started looking up the benefits of a cold shower but none of them has outweighed your comfort. So you've started showering before him, dashing into the bathroom as soon as you even think he's about to get in there.

Reiner - sets his alarm but never hears it. 

This one really does you in. You're not the lightest sleeper but you can definitely hear when an alarm is non stop ringing. You sometimes envy the deep sleep that Reiner manages to engulf himself in but then slowly remember that it's borderline dangerous. The only reason you don't throw a bitch fit is because y’all have similar work schedules, so the alarm also works in your favor. But he's definitely gotten the occasional pillow to the face or slap to the arm; not that he ever feels it.

Armin - gotta take a pic of every meal.

It's all about presentation with Armin. You can cook a pot of ramen noodles and he’d grab his camera if you fixed it up nice. Y'all are at dinner and the waiter brings the food by? Can't dig in until he has the perfect shot. Usually you don't mind, but his perfect shot takes at least four different angles and your stomach gets louder by the minute. You haven't found a way around this one just yet, so you instead endure the torture.

Floch - watches his tv with the volume level on ignorant. 

Why must the house sound like a surround sound movie theater you’ll never know. Action movies you understand. You'll even bite for thrillers. But anything else? It’s definitely up for debate. You can literally step outside on the curb of the street and still hear the entirety of the movie playing. You assume the loud noise is so he can submerge himself in the plot of the film but you’re running out of different ways to tell him to turn that shit down. The new rule now is nothing on the screens past 7pm if he can't watch it at regular volume.

Tags - @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

[eureka-its-zico]

Commitment Part 2

Summary: After finding out the truth about who Jungkook really is, your world - and everything you thought you knew - comes crashing down. Do you begin to give in to your new captive situation, or do you continue to fight? The choices no longer seem so easy when you feel betrayed by the one you love…

A/N: Let’s be real: I bet a lot of you never thought there would be a second part to this (its a far assumption). But I’ve decide to make this a small series, maybe two or three more parts. I hope that this chapter feels worth the wait, and I hope it makes you excited for things to come. As always, thank you for stopping by, for reading, and hopefully, enjoying my work. Much love, Jenn.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, Detective Reader, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, mutual pining

Warnings: mentions of violence, sexual content (its smut, y’all), graphic violence, slight dom behavior, fingering, cunnalingus, almost p in v.

Previous

If it wasn’t for the searing pain that exploded behind your eyes you could’ve sworn - for a brief moment - that you were home. Safe at home in bed beside Jungkook, who was currently running his fingers softly through your hair. If he wasn’t peppering your jawline with kisses to wake you he was most definitely running his fingers through your hair. 

You’d come to expect it. Your body responded in kind by nuzzling up beside him and claiming his lips with your own. 

Morning breath be damned. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t take your body long to remind you that the bed you were lying in didn’t belong to you. The pain pulsating inside your skull wasn’t just a killer migraine. God - you wanted to believe it was a bad dream and that you’d open your eyes and find yourself nestled against Jungkook’s chest with fresh coffee waiting for you on your nightstand. 

The dried blood crusted somewhere in your hair and swollen lip reminded you that you weren’t that lucky. The only real thing you knew for sure was that Jungkook was in the room with you.

How did you know this? While you weren’t in your shared bed, sunlight drifting through the curtains to remind you it was time to start the day, you could feel fingers playing carefully through your hair. The pattern his fingers took, the way he gently moved through each strand to make sure his fingers didn’t catch it - pull it out of place - was something specifically Jungkook. 

Now, Jungkook was taking even more care not to hurt you. His fingers moved achingly, slowly, through your hair making sure to avoid the throbbing wound. 

You wanted to pull away from him. To open your eyes and scream at him while smashing your fists into his chests. You wanted answers - needed them to clear your conscience that what happened back at the station wasn’t your fault. 

You wanted to hear him say he wasn’t the devil and you weren’t the fool. 

But you couldn’t face him. Sure. You were filled with rage from being deceived, but had he really deceived you? Or had you simply deceived yourself? 

All the red flags were there that his story didn’t make sense. The odd hours. The mysterious phone calls that sent him racing for the door half-dressed with promises to return. When he did come back, he wouldn’t let you touch him - come close to him - until after he showered. He’d ask simple questions over morning coffee about cases that you weren’t sure you’d ever talked to him about. 

All the red flags were flown in your face, and you chose to overlook every single one for a handsome face and great dick. It wasn’t just that, was it? No. Somewhere along the line you both became too entangled; tethered to the same cord that strangled you both. 

Maybe that’s why when he cupped your cheek your body instantly turned into him. You hated him - loved him - were hopelessly devoted to him all at the same time. All those emotions would tear you to pieces as surely as your rage would. 

“Kitten - I know you’ve been awake for the last five minutes. Look at me.” 

“Oh, I’ll look at you, alright,” you snarled. 

You allowed all that anger - your brimming hatred - to burn in your gut. It gave you enough courage to do something either incredibly brave or plain stupid. You opened your eyes just enough to meet his gaze before your teeth sunk down into the soft flesh of his palm. 

In a split second, the love that blossomed in his eyes as you looked at him wilted and replaced itself with a lightening of rage. Jungkook tried to shake his hand loose from between your teeth but it caused you to bite down harder. Never once did he yell or sound out his pain. It should’ve warned you that this flame would burn you. 

You never were one to listen. 

Jungkook tried one last time to violently shake his hand free, and when it failed his hand smacked down across your face. The ringing in your ears was deafening and caused your vision to blur. Your jaw loosened enough for him to slip his hand free, and the taste of copper flowed like a river across your tongue. 

“Don’t ever call me ‘Kitten’ again,” you snapped, spitting blood onto the cold concrete floor.

“Anything else - Kitten.” 

The bastard was smirking. Gone was the unholy look of rage that could destroy whole cities and back was the coy softness you’d grown to expect from him. 

 “Yeah. Don’t fucking touch me either.” 

You expected him to snap. To bare teeth and tell you who you belonged to. Instead, all you got in return was that infamous smirk that spoke louder than words: he thought you were all talk. All venom that dripped from the pain of knowing you did belong to him. Even now with your body radiating with the urge to strike him you knew all it would take was one touch of his lips against yours and your fight would end. 

“We both know you don’t mean it.”

“Don’t I? You’re a liar, Jungkook. A fucking psychopath.”

A sigh left him as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The smirk now gone as he regarded you with raised brows and a look of indifference. His reaction telling you plainly that you were overreacting. 

“It’s a little late to try and act like a forensic psychologist, don’t you think?” 

“I’ve been to your crime scenes! I’ve seen the fucking carnage that you leave behind. Shit that would make Ed Gein look like a fucking Saint!” 

God. You wanted to keep it together and act as cold as he portrayed himself to be, but how could you? Jungkook had become eerily still. For the first time since you’d realized who he was you felt scared. 

“A psychopath you took to your bed. Who lived in your house, and cooked you dinners with the same hands that were held finger deep by your clenching pussy were also the same ones used to maim and murder. Tell me, Kitten, did it feel better being fucked by a psychopath than the straight and narrow pricks you allowed in your bed?”

You allowed the fear you felt to turn into stone cold dread as it dawned on you that they’d been watching you from the beginning. That he was mentioning your old partner, Christian, that you’d had a relationship with before it turned sour. Before he began to care more about having you sit at a desk job instead of being in the field chasing after bad guys. Bad guys like Jungkook. 

For all the dread that corroded your veins they were stoked to life with a rage so incredibly potent you could’ve sworn, for a moment, you went blind. 

“Get. Out.” When Jungkook showed no signs of moving you grabbed the only pillow off the cot bed and flung it as hard as you could. He dodged it easily. “Get the fuck out! I don’t want to see you ever again. You hear me? I hate you!” 

“No you don’t-“

“Don’t you tell me what I feel, Jungkook!”

“You wish you could hate me, Kitten, but you can’t.”

“Watch me. I’m going to get out of here and I’m putting your narcissistic, psychotic ass in prison for the rest of your unnatural fucking life. Afterwards, I’ll find someone to fuck to wash you completely out of my system! Marry them-”

When you first started your rant, Jungkook was smug. The cockiness of his belief that you couldn’t hate him - couldn’t move past him - kept his shoulders squared in confidence until his eyes met yours. Whatever he saw there - the raw determination - was enough to make that confident facade drop leaving only something much worse in its wake. Your bratty words meant to wound him only stoked a fire that threatened to burn entire cities.

He took a threatening step towards you as his hands dropped from inside his pockets. His fists clenching and unclenching in time with the ticking of his jaw. You wanted to put as much space between you two as possible, but you didn’t want to back down either. 

“I have never loved someone like I love you. Do you understand that? You are mine. And if you think I’m ever going to let you go, you got another thing coming, sweetheart. I am not letting you go.” Jungkook was standing in front of you now. His body dropped down just enough to meet you at eye level as he breathed one final promise across your lips, “Ever. I will burn down a thousand fucking cities looking for you, if I have too.” 

You braced yourself for a kiss that never came. Your pulse felt like at any moment it would burst from your neck. Jungkook noticed. He always did and that seemed to be enough for him, because he didn’t kiss you. He simply pushed back on his feet and turned towards the cell door. He called out and a man dressed in all black with an m16 strapped across his chest appeared. Jungkook shot you one last look as the guard opened the door, and allowed him to pass through just before he began to lock it again. 

Jungkook was still looking at you when he spoke to the henchman. “Don’t you fucking go in there with her. Don’t you let anyone in there unless it’s been cleared with me first.” 

“Sir, what about Namjoon-“

“I said cleared with me first. Got it?”

The man nodded his head too many times. Enough to make you wonder if he’d given himself whiplash before Jungkook spared you one last glance before disappearing back inside the depths of whatever fresh hell you’d put yourself in. 

When you continued to wake up still breathing on the cot, you were surprised. Okay. You were a whole lot of surprised. You half expected to be a lifeless corpse rising from a trash heap than to be found tucked inside bedsheets. It didn’t take you long to know why you weren’t dead yet nor was it a surprise 

It felt like you’d been awake for hours. Your eyes helplessly combed over every painted brick of the walls for any sign of weakness. Without an actual clock inside your makeshift prison there was plenty of room for error when it came to time frames. It could've simply been hours since you’d been in the cell. But because of the trauma you’d sustained to your head - the possible unseen damage - it could’ve been days. The thought alone causes your stomach to somersault violently into your throat. 

Since you woke up that first time and had your spat with Jungkook, he hadn’t returned to visit you. The guards at your cell, however, still followed his orders. Most of them wouldn’t even look at you. 

The headache you’d been nursing with the palm of your hand since you woke up continued to be a nagging friend. It’s persistent poking and prodding against your temple caused your vision to shift into doubles at the worst times. Mostly, those worst times accumulated down to when you were pacing in your cell. The game plan you’d come up with kept constantly changing -forming- and retaking shape. 

When you first awoke in the dank cell, you were quick to notice you were lying on a cot. It’s placement in one of the corners of the room's brick walls made it easy for you to determine the only thing inside it was you and the cot. The exposed lightbulb above the room swaying at odd times. As if the ground above shook with the same rage you felt building in your chest. 

There weren’t any windows, and instead of metal bars there was just a door. It’s rusted exterior letting you know wherever you’d been taken too was very old. No windows and no open metal framework told you simply that yelling for help was out of the question. You weren’t surprised: you’d been reading their files for years. If they didn’t keep you closed off from the rest of civilization, you’d have questioned the whole thing. 

You started feeling the grooves in between the bricks. Every single one painted over in gunmetal grey to make the cell appear darker. Whatever light the flickering bulb above gave off was consumed and tinted by lighted shadow. 

It took everything you had to concentrate on feeling out the grooves for possible signs that the bricks were possibly lose. Or maybe even catch the slightest breeze - making its way through a large crack. You allowed yourself to hope. 

How stupid of you. 

With every inch and glide of your palms against the cool surface, you felt your heart beginning to sink. You were never getting out. The chances of you making it out on your own two legs and not a body bag was dwindling and your hysteria. Well, that was definitely beginning to spring to the surface. 

You’d just taken rapid steps back away from your latest attempt, the panic swelling up your chest was threatening to turn you feral. The only course of action you could think to do was to cause yourself pain. So, your hands flew up to grab at your head. The minute your finger scratched at the dull cut your vision exploded in pain - hissing past your lips with your eyes flinching at the thundering ache. The dried blood flaked down to your jacket, and you stared at the few flakes resting on your shoulder. 

The pain was bringing you out of your breakdown, but barely. You were running out of ideas - of options - when you heard the sound of a large deadbolt coming loose and right after a few larger bolts slid out of place. Your anxiety attack had placed you dead center in the middle of the room. 

The lightbulb’s glow painted you in a spotlight of sunburnt yellows - the blood on your hair and face made you feel like a wounded animal. Every click of a lock coming undone a time bomb to the Hunter coming in to finish the job. 

Your heart was back in your throat as you glanced around hopelessly for an object, anything to defend yourself, and came up short. With the last lock coming undone you decided you would wait for them to enter. Your muscles tensing up in your thighs as you prepared yourself to run at whoever it was. 

You prepared yourself as much as you could but when the door squeakily opened and Jungkook stepped through all your resolve faded. He was just standing there - like nothing happened - looking handsome as ever with a tray held with one hand. The entire night flashed before you. The deceit. The lies. The last conversation you had before he’d left the room. To see him standing there with that smug look on his face - the same one he gave you when he proved he was better at cooking, games, or sex irritated the shit out of you. 

All the dinners you cooked together in your shared kitchen. The trips you’d taken and the little notes you found inside your coat pockets or on the fridge and bathroom mirror. Was it all a lie? Was his smugness due to him winning the biggest game of all? 

The scream that you bottled up broke free as you charged towards him. You hated how unfazed he seemed - how amused. Jungkook wasn’t apologetic for tearing your world apart: for making you love him. If anything, he stood like a god before you. Gluttonous in his pride knowing you couldn’t do anything to him. 

You swung at him, realizing too late it was a wide swing. His hand came up in seconds to grab your swinging arm in mid-air. You were still moving forward with your momentum, unable to come to a stop, and Jungkook used it to twist your arm in his grip and bring you colliding into his chest. 

The tray of food and whatever else he’d carried was an afterthought as its content scattered all over the floor. You tried to wriggle out of his strong grip, but that only succeeded in making him hold on to you tighter. You could practically feel his muscles as they flexed under the shirt. 

“I told you, I didn’t want to see you again,” you seethed. 

“And I told you, Kitten, that I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Let me go, Jungkook. Let. Me. Go!” 

If you could’ve pounded on his big stupidity attractive chest you would have. Since you couldn’t, you settled for screaming in his face. You tried to take a step back, to try and gain some kind of leverage, when his free hand came up to grip the back of your head. He used that leverage to bring your face dangerously close to his. The wild look in his eyes made you grow incredibly still.

“I need you to get it through that thick skull of yours,” he used your name. Jungkook rarely ever used your name. “If you think for one second I am spending one second of my life without you, you are sadly mistaken.”

“You’re an idiot,” you gasped. You were not going to fucking cry right now. “Why would you want someone who doesn’t want you - who can’t stand the sight of you?” 

Jungkook dipped down and brushed the tip of his nose over yours. The gentle touch shocked you enough that you stopped moving; forgot to breathe.  

“When are you going to stop lying to yourself, Kitten? We were made for each other.”

You wanted to deny his statement. To remind him that he was not only a psychopath, but a delusional one at that, but was he the only delusional one in the room? Or was it you? 

You didn’t get a chance to dispute his claim. Using the hold he had on the back of your neck, Jungkook brought you the last couple inches closer and sealed his lips down on yours. 

The worst part about Jungkook kissing you was how your resistance completely crumbled. You knew he must have noticed it too - the way the fight slowly seeped out of your muscles. How easy it was for his tongue to spread your lips open to dive inside. The grip he’d held on your arm released, but Jungkook made sure he kept you secured to him. His hand on your neck pressing you painfully closer as the hand he’d removed from your wrist now dug its fingers into the soft flesh of your hips. 

You didn’t want him thinking that it was over for you; that he’d won. Your lust may have clouded your mind, but somewhere behind the cloud your common sense was screaming. Unfortunately, common sense was losing when his hand trailed up beneath your shirt to the swell of your breasts. Nimble fingers pulled down the cotton fabric of your bra to expose your nipples to him. 

Jungkook made quick work to take the bud between his thumb and index finger and applied the right amount of pressure. Just enough to make a moan gasp against his mouth right before he moved in to swallow the sound with another heated kiss. 

He pinched your nipple one last time sending a delicious shiver to shoot down your spine. Instantly, your pussy reacted to his touch. You knew if - when - he pulled down your pants Jungkook would find your underwear soaked. 

You weren’t sure what made you do it. Maybe you were annoyed by how easily he made you crumble at his touch. He was a monster. A killer. 

But he’s your monster. 

The thought made your blood run cold. The desire Jungkook had stoked inside you quickly disappeared as that thought haunted you. When you tried to pull away from his kiss, Jungkook’s grip on your neck refused to let you go. So, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You waited until his bottom lip pressed down into a pout to grab it with your teeth. You bit down hard enough for your tongue to be greeted with the taste of blood. A growl rumbled deep in chest; a sound he pressed with violent force against your lips. 

The kiss felt bruising as his hands dropped down to the back of your thighs. You were able to pull away from him enough to let out a small yelp of surprise when Jungkook’s hands grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up. Instantly, you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

His feet carried you over to the corner of the room. You expected to be thrown down on the cot. Your body tensed up as it waited for the coming drop, but it never came. Instead, Jungkook pushed you up against the cold stone of the wall with enough force it pushed a rush of air from your lungs. 

You were about to call out - the jolt of brief pain ready to escape from your mouth - when Jungkook crashed his lips back into yours. His hips rutted up into you. His cock hard and pressed into the fabric of his jeans. 

He controlled the movement with his hands on your hips. Half of your weight supported by the wall and his hips that he moved over your clothed sex. The friction of his clothed cock rubbed against your clit made you moan into the kiss. 

“You want to play rough, kitten,” he huffed against your lips. “I can play rough. I’ll be as rough as you want me to be.”

To prove his point, Jungkook traced his lips down to your neck. His tongue grazed from the hollow of your throat down towards your collarbone. When he reached your shoulder he sank his teeth down into the skin. You let out a small scream, your hands fisting into his hair, as you tried to tug him loose. 

Jungkook kept the pressure of his teeth firmly in their place and, using his hands on his hips, ground up into you. The jolt of pleasure that collided with the pain sent another moan spilling free from your lips. You were close to begging him to stop teasing - to give you what you wanted - but Jungkook seemed to know from the soft pleas that you hummed against his ear. 

Without warning, he peeled you from the wall and flung you both on top of the cot. Jungkook caught himself with his hands at the last second making sure he didn’t crush you against the mattress. You wouldn’t have cared. You couldn’t find time to care as he helped strip you of your jacket and shirt. Your own hands desperately trying to pull his shirt over his head so you could feel him bare and pressed against you. 

When your bra was removed and flung off your arms, Jungkook didn’t hesitate to take each breast in his hands. He dropped down and wrapped his mouth around a nipple. The feeling of his tongue flicking and swirling caused your body to arch into him. Your hands flew wildly to grab ahold of the strands of his hair - fingers curling and pulling as he took a nipple between his teeth. Jungkook made sure he took his time taking each nipple in his mouth; tongue swirling around the stiff peaks. 

You could feel his hand drift down your middle to the edge of your jeans. You didn’t try and fight him as his nimble fingers worked at the button of your jeans, and further down between the fabric and the lace of your underwear. 

When Jungkook’s fingers first felt between your folds - his fingers finding you soaked - he exhaled heavily.  His mouth made a loud pop as he disconnected from your breast with eyes hollowed with hunger meeting your own. 

“Fuck. You’re always so wet for me, Kitten,” he huffed. 

You weren’t sure how to answer him or if you even should. You hated him - wanted to believe you hated him - and everything he stood for. There was no denying, however, that you wanted him. It went beyond reason, because you couldn’t understand it. The only thing you did understand was when he pushed three fingers knuckle deep inside your aching pussy, your body turned molten with a need so deep that only Jungkook could sate. 

The lewd wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of you filled the room. The only other sound to try and cover that was your soft moans that only grew louder when Jungkook stripped your pants and underwear down over your thighs, and off your legs and buried his tongue between your folds. 

His tongue traced up from your entrance, and took his time licking his way up to swirl at your clit before giving a large stroke. This time you did scream as his tongue fucked you; stroked and sucked every inch of you until your legs quivered around him forcing your words to become incoherent. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. The need to be filled with him became overwhelming and, using his hair to pull him violently up, you asked, “Jungkook-“ you breathlessly pleaded, “Fuck me. Please.”

He looked up at you from between your legs. His pupils were blown out completely with lust. There was a moment where you wondered if he’d even heard you. There was no recognition in his face that he had heard you until a growl brushed past his lips, and he nipped at the inner corner of your thigh. You let out a sound of surprise as you tried to move back, but Jungkook kept you securely in place. 

“Is that what you want?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you, Jungkook.”

You thought he was going to ask more stupid questions. Couldn’t he see you were a fool for him? Couldn’t he see how much you needed him? At that moment, you were willing to beg him. You were ready to start doing exactly that when Jungkook suddenly moved up with his hands at his belt. His fingers were rapidly unbuttoning his jeans when a loud knock came at the door. 

Jungkook’s response was instant and animalistic. A snarl cut through the room that seemed to suspend time completely. The person behind the door no doubt shitting themselves for making a boldly stupid decision. 

“Whoever it is, you better have a good fucking reason for interrupting me,” he snapped. 

Again. Silence. You were willing to bet they’d run for safety, except you were wrong. 

“I’m sorry, boss, but Namjoon sent me down to find you. He needs you to come back to the lounge, and he requested you bring the prisoner with you.”

Jungkook had gone eerily still above you. The sexually charged air began to change as the lust that had been in his eyes was replaced by something darker; more dangerous. Suddenly, you felt too exposed to the room. Your hands meekly moved to try and cover your nakedness from the room, while Jungkook remained on his knees above you. His buckle loose at his waist and upper body bare. 

He seemed to be deciding whether to do as he was asked or tell them to fuck off. You’d learned, however, that while Jungkook was no doubt the unhinged part of Namjoon’s crew, he was loyal. You didn’t think he would deny a request from his leader, even for you. 

He let out a heavy sigh as he removed himself from the cot, his legs bending down slightly so he could scoop up his shirt and put it back on. 

“Tell him we’ll be there in five minutes.”

 While he didn’t sound happy about it, Jungkook was still going to be a good boy and do as he was told. 

“Namjoon asked for you to hurry-“ 

“Fuck off!” Jungkook snapped. A booted foot slammed against the metal of the door making everything grow still with fear. “I said it’ll be five minutes. Now go.” 

The sound of retreating feet filled the hall outside before Jungkook had even finished telling him to leave. Smart man. You swung your legs over the side of the cot and moved to start picking up your clothes when hands on your waist pushed you back against the wall. 

You looked up just in time to watch Jungkook fall to his knees between your legs. His hands grasping your left thigh to raise it up onto his shoulder. The angle left him closer to the mound of your sex. 

“Jungkook, what are you doing? You told them we’d be there in five minutes.”

The devilish smirk you knew all too well tilted the corner of his lips. The lust that was stripped away seconds ago coming back as his tongue lazy stroked between your folds coaxing a gasp to leave you. 

“I only need a couple to make you come.” 

Jungkook always was a man of his word. 

You walked down the hallways beside Jungkook as he led you through the large building. Wherever it was The Devils’ called home, it was a renovated industrial building. Maybe once upon a time, it had housed machinery of some kind to build cars or maybe make some sort of sweet treat that eventually closed down. Whatever the building was used for originally, it had been refurbished to house evil.

The cold original metal and brick of the interior has been kept with only a few choices of artwork, drapes around the windows, and furniture giving it a sense of life. To you, no matter what anyone tried to place in the building, it would still feel uninviting. 

Jungkook instructed you to follow him as he turned left at the next four way intersection of the building. His hand on your arm gently pulled you along and kept you close to him all at the same time. 

“When we get in there don’t speak unless he instructs you to speak.”

“I’ll speak when I want too,” you snapped, hating the idea of being good for any of them. 

Jungkook sent you a glaring look of warning as came to a set of double doors. 

“Don’t be stupid, Kitten. The only reason you’re still alive is because of me.”

“And should I be grateful for that?” You wanted to pull your arm out of his grip, but it felt silly to do that when you’d just come all over his tongue. 

Jungkook appeared to be having the same thought. 

“Yes. You should.”

That was all the reply Jungkook bothered to give you as he pushed open the door and ushered you inside. This room, whatever it had been, was more updated than what you’d previously seen. The walls were painted a warm tone and carpet was put in. Off to the counter was a large bar that had an actual bartender stuck behind the empty counter with a slew of couches placed like a large C inside the middle. 

Inside that large C is where your eyes found Namjoon. His body positioned in the center of the C and sitting patiently. The second the two of you entered his eyes were on you. The judgment in them was heavy and something that he wasn’t afraid to show. 

Namjoon didn’t seem to like you very much. Well, the feeling was mutual. Jungkook stopped you in the middle and released the grip he’d held on your arm. He moved away from you to go and stand off to the left of Namjoon with Yoongi being at his right. 

You hated being left there like some kind of fucked up prize. It wasn’t just the three of them and a bartender. No, scattered around the back of the lounge stood more lackey’s, the unimportant ones that were used as fodder when shit got heavy were scattered all around. Most of them wear shit eating grins as if your presence in their bad guy lair was just the funniest damn thing. 

You’d see who’d have the last laugh. 

“Welcome, Detective,” Namjoon’s voice boomed inside the room. His arms swept over the area as he attempted to smile in what he must have thought was a greeting. It looked more like a grimace. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying your stay here.” 

You considered him coolly as you thought of how to reply. Jungkook had instructed you to speak when spoken too; to play nice. You always did have an issue with doing what you were told. 

“Actually, it’s been shit,” you started with a shrug. “I’m just waiting to get out of here.”

“And why is that?”

Namjoon seemed to know why. He didn’t need to truly ask you. He was only doing it because he wanted to see if you’d have the guts to say it out loud. 

“You aren’t dumb. None of you are, and I’m willing to bet you all know exactly what I’m going to do when I’m out of here.”

“Kitten.”

One word. Jungkook spoke your pet name as a warning. His face and body had grown stiff as he took a cautious step towards you. Namjoon held up a hand to stop him, waving him back to stand in his spot. Jungkook didn’t like it. It was made apparent by the ticking of his jaw as he continued to watch. 

“No, no Jungkook let her speak. You think you are going to put us away?”

“Oh, I know I can.” You retorted, allowing yourself your own sickly sweet smile. “I won’t stop until I place every single one of you where you deserve.” 

“That's a noble little quest you’ve given yourself, but you’ve got your ideas of who’s good and who's bad backwards, I’m afraid.”

A snort of laughter left you. The disbelief evident on your face as you regarded the men around you. These men who had slaughtered droves of people; families even. Men who had tried to come forward to atone for the crimes they had committed, their conscience finally taking hold, only for you to find the entire home missing or dead. Hospital staff who had been gunned down along with rival gang leaders who’d been inside. 

The terror these men had caused and all for the name of what? Infamy? Power? Money? All the things that didn’t mean shit when you were six feet under. The thing that disgusted you the most wasn’t these men and their atrocities, but your own. 

The very man who was responsible for so much of that carnage had just been buried nose deep between your legs, and you’d let him. All the fight you’d claimed to have - the moral standing - completely went away when he touched you. Where was your resolve then? Where was your belief in Justice for those victims when his hands were digging into your hips and his cock buried inside you? 

Nowhere. 

Looking at him now you knew a part of you hated Jungkook, but the person you really hated was yourself. 

With your eyes roaming back to face down Namjoon, you square your shoulders and make sure your resolve shown through as you speak your next words.  

“I’ve seen your handiwork, and I know what kind of men you are. I meant what I said. I’m going to find a way out of here and when I do, I promise you until my very last breath, I will hunt you down and put you fucking animals where you belong.” 

You hadn’t realized you were shaking - that you’d taken a step towards him until Jungkook and Yoongi took a step with you. Good. Let them know you meant every word. That they weren’t the only boogeymen meant to be feared. 

Namjoon sat forward, his arms resting on his thighs, as he regarded you with a calculating eye. No longer did he think you were trying to talk tough because of your situation. Now, you were positive, he knew you meant every word and that maybe he should proceed with caution. 

“You’d lock up Jungkook, as well?”

He was testing you. Maybe it was a test meant to show Jungkook he shouldn’t have grown soft for you. That you didn’t care for him the way he did you. 

You wished that was the truth but, unfortunately, it was far from it. Maybe that’s why when you turn to look in Jungkook’s direction you will yourself to look callous; completely disregarding what resembled hurt that was scrunching across his brow. 

“All of you deserve to be in cages. No exceptions.” 

“We’ll, I guess we better make sure to keep you locked inside one yourself.” 

You knew that voice. 

Your back went rigid as your mind raced at the recognition of that voice. A part of you didn’t want to turn - to see - the betrayal you felt coming towards you like a speeding train. Unfortunately, this was something you couldn’t run from. 

Turning your head to your right, you watched as your Chief came into view. A smug smile showing all of his pearly white teeth like the Cheshire Cat who’d stumped you at your own riddle. The shitty part about that was that he had. 

You’d always suspected that The Devils’ had some form of inside help. Most gangs were good, but no one rivaled The Devils’ when it came to the amount of intel they seemed to have. When witness protection magically lost informants, or informants were found out while undercover. Good seasoned Detectives who had been doing this for years miraculously were caught with their body parts being dumped in front of the police station with rats festering inside the bags. 

At first, you thought it had been you. That these men and women had paid with their lives all because of some costly fling. The endless guilt of racking your brain wondering what you’d left out; let slip while grocery shopping or relaxing with him on the couch. 

And all along it had been Chief Ebert. 

“You fuckin’ traitor!” You snarled. 

Seconds later, your closed fist collided with his nose and a spurt of blood erupted like a spout. A sharp cry of pain filled the room as you launched yourself at him, but found arms securing themselves at your waist and pulling away. The fast movement off to your left let you know it wasn’t Jungkook who had grabbed you, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he didn’t like it one bit. 

“Jungkook - stay where you’re at,” Namjoon ordered. “Hyujin, restrain her.”

“I’d like to see you fucking try!”

You felt murderous. Your heart pounded like war drums inside your chest. In a matter of a day, two days, the amount of betrayal you’d experienced left your world spinning. With an even bigger question of, “Who could be trusted?” raging inside of your head. 

“You fucking bitch!” Chief Ebert muttered out. His fingers sloppily trying to stop the blood from running out. “I always knew you were psychotic.”

“That’s rich coming from a treacherous weasel,” you snapped back. “How much did you sell your honor for, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” he huffed. “Like you have any room to talk. When I requested for Jungkook to follow you to make sure he kept you off leads on investigations, I never would have thought it would’ve been that easy for him to fucking get to you.”

Another flash of red filtered over your vision. With a snarl you lashed out with your foot with your boot connecting with his chest shoving him down. 

“That is enough!” Namjoon’s voice boomed over the room. “Hyujin, take her back to her cell. Ebert get the hell up so we can get this over with.” 

You were still struggling as the lackey in question, Hyujin, walked you back down the long stretches of hallway Jungkook had just led you down. 

Did Ebert say he requested Jungkook to follow you? So, that night at the bar…Jungkook knew exactly who you were. He knew everything about you, because Ebert told Namjoon who had told him. 

Your mind tried to make sense of the carousel of deceit you kept finding yourself in. It struggled to find footing - on a course of action - but at the end of every idea the uncertainty of who could you trust came slamming home into your chest. Hyujin almost had you back to your cell when you finally made up your mind. While you weren’t sure who you could trust, you knew one thing - you could trust yourself. With your mind made up you took in a breath preparing for your next move. 

It was now or never. 

You let out a small scream as you slammed the heel of your foot down on top of the  guard's foot. When he bent down in predictable fashion, you brought your elbow up to crash against his face. It gave you just enough momentum to grab the m16 that was strapped around his neck, to grab at the strap, and move behind him, pulling it tight across his throat. 

It takes longer in real-life to choke someone into unconsciousness, even longer if you’re trying to kill them. Lucky for this guy you only meant to only do the first. When Hyujin finally stopped struggling, you removed the strap from around his throat, completely removing the gun from his body. You put the strap over your shoulder and went to work looking for keys. 

You found a walkie talkie and earbud and quickly put it on. While you didn’t plan on staying long enough to actually use it, it would come in handy as you tried to make your escape. 

After locating the keys, you plugged in the earbud and secured the radio to the back of your pants. With the gun held tightly in your hands, you started making your way back up the hallway in search of an exit. It was time to start your escape. 

Next

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you for reading! XoXo

[vintagevict0ria]

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

“You brush past me in the hallway…”

chapter 1

pairing: Adam Driver x f!reader

content: n/a

a/n: omg i am soooooo excited for this you have no idea. Its been so long since i posted and this idea has been stuck in my drafts since july and since im back in my Adam driver era- id thought id finish this. This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swifts song "I can see you" and each chapter will be based on a lyric! So i am no expert on how film/actor/movie stuff works so bear with me. Hopeful as this goes on, it will get better. Im planning on finishing this by the new year (who knows if that will happen) but since im on break i should take advantage of my free time. Ok long story short I will be writing this shit non stop since im on a writing high so who knows if the next chapter will come out tommorow! Hope you enjoy! Notes are greatly appreciated!!

Y/n, a famous actress known for her beautiful face and captivating personality but also her incredible acting skills. You had been nominated for over 50 awards and won 5 oscars. It had been a while since you were on a set nor a movie. The last film was a roaring success and the critics were crazy about it! The media begged for another film starring Y/N Y/L/N.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of your phone ringing. Your agent- Carolina, was calling. You quickly answered- yawning and hoping she wouldn’t hear it. “Y/n! Great news!” You sighed, not really understanding what was happening. “You got the job!” The job? what is she talking about? “huh?” You rubbed your eyes, laying back down. “The movie!! Adam Driver is in it too! Oh my gosh i can hear them now! ‘Y/n y/l/n and Adam Driver are co-stars in the biggest hit of the year!” Once you heard his name, you sprung up “Wait what?” “Yeah! They want you here in LA by tomorrow morning. I’ve already booked you a flight to leave in..5 hours! Bye!” She hung up before you could say another word. You glanced over at the clock- 9:35. The flight was at 2:15 and it would take a while to pack and get ready. So, being the smart woman you are, you got up and started the day. Showering, packing, and of course- stopping to get starbucks.

Once you arrived in LA, you headed to the condo where you would be staying for a majority of filming. That morning you woke up and started getting ready for the day. Showering, and making a coffee before you headed out to the table read. You threw on a pair of leggings and a tshirt. It was late autumn so you took a jacket on the way out. At the studio you said hello to the crew and a huge thank you to the casting director. “Y/n!” It was Carolina- she ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “How was the flight?” You smiled at the redhead girl “Great.” Carolina jumped up and down with excitement and handed you sheets of paper. On the cover was the name of the film, the name of the director-JJ Abrams- and your name. “Heres your script. You need to go ahead and head in there! Bye!” She walked away, the sound of her heals clicked across the floor. You quickly skimmed through the pages while walking and not paying attention. You soon enough ran into someone, your coffee spilling over you and the floor along with your script- which was on the floor…covered in coffee. “Oh gosh Im so sorry!” You apologized while picking up your script, wincing at the wet paper. “You might want to watch where you are going next time.” The voice was soft but stern. You looked up and realized it was Adam Driver.

He was wearing all black and his hair was messy. He glanced at you with a subtle stare. “Im so sorry!” You stood up, brushing yourself off. “No worries, happens to the best of us.” He rolled his shoulders back and popped his neck, closing his eyes. Damn he was attractive. ”You headed in?” You asked, trying to keep your composure together. Adam simply just nodded.

The first day of the read consisted of going over the aspects of the film and the time line of production. After the read through, filming would start, then the movie premiere would take place after filming and production in Hollywood, but that was a whiles away. When the read was over you walked out with another co star. Heading to your condo, you received a text from Carolina. "Girl, just talked to JJ and he just gave me word that there is a sex scene between you and Adam 😁" The stupid emoji at the end made you cringe. Carolina giving you this news shot your nerves through the roof. As if you weren't already nervous enough about working with Adam, having to film a intimate scene made it far worse. Kicking your shoes off and falling onto your bed, you opened instagram, an attempt to get your mind of the situation at hand, it didn't work.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 6 - Nobody's Fool

Summary: In the aftermath of Elvis' last day in his 1969 Vegas residency, Valerie and Elvis get caught in a compromising position. A decision is made, and a plan is formulated. Late at night, Valerie and Elvis almost cross the point of no return.

There are moments when one wakes up, and everything seems okay. That blessed space between sleep and memory, before the brain catches up with your body? 

I had about three seconds of that peace before I opened my eyes and saw Elvis' jacket draped over my chair like a question mark.

The gin-stained dress I'd fallen asleep in clung to me like shame. My mouth tasted like I'd been gargling with Dean Martin's martini shaker. And somewhere in the building's guts, that damn dove was cooing its morning commentary.

The Colonel's note lay where I'd dropped it last night: "Meeting tomorrow, 2 PM sharp. Re: Memphis arrangements."

I looked at the clock. 1:07.

"Well, shit."

The phone rang before I could make it to the shower. For a moment, I considered letting it ring. But in Vegas, you learn quick that ignored calls have a way of turning into bigger problems.

"Hello?"

"Val? Thank God." my best friend’s voice carried all the manic energy of a Chicago morning. "I've been trying to reach you for hours! Have you seen the papers?"

I hadn't. Didn't want to.

"Listen, Dee, I can't really talk right now. I have a meeting—"

"About Memphis?"

The question hit like a slap. I sank onto the bed, still wearing last night's mistakes.

"How did you..."

"There's a blind item in the Tribune. 'Which Chicago music teacher has caught the King's eye? Sources say she's trading the Windy City for Graceland...'" Deena paused. "Val? Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

I practically felt whiplash from how fast the news got out. Through the wall, I could hear the Memphis Mafia stirring - boots on carpet, voices carrying through the International's expensive but thin walls. Red's laugh. Jerry's drawl. The sound of Elvis' world waking up.

"It's exactly what you think it is," I said finally. "And it's going to come out now anyway. His manager’s already planning how to 'handle' it."

The silence on the other end stretched like taffy.

"Holy shit," Deena whispered finally. "Holy actual shit. You and Elvis Presley? All this time? The mystery man you wouldn't tell me about... that was Elvis fucking Presley?"

"Dee—"

"But he's married! To that gorgeous wife who was in all the photos last night, kissing him like—" She stopped. "Oh honey. Those photos. Did you... were you there?"

The memory of that kiss, perfectly timed for the cameras, hit fresh. Elvis's hand on Priscilla's waist. The crowd's approving applause. Ann-Margret's knowing look.

"When I told you to ride that stallion till you break the saddle, I didn't mean steal someone else's horse!" Deena's voice cracked between humor and horror. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Elvis. Actually Elvis."

"I have to go," I said. "Meeting in, like, five minutes. Call me later." I lied. 

"Val, wait—"

I hung up. Stood there for a moment, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Last night's mascara made me look like a raccoon who'd lost a bar fight.

Time to face the music. Or in this case, the Colonel.

*

The Colonel's suite was a shrine to his greatest creation. Elvis stared down at me from every wall - movie posters, concert bills, gold records, photographs spanning from that first Sun Records publicity shot to last night's show. Young Elvis, GI Elvis, Hollywood Elvis, Comeback Elvis, Vegas Elvis. A hundred different versions of the same man, watching our little drama play out beneath their frozen gazes.

The irony wasn't lost on me. We were here to talk about Elvis, but the only Elvis present was made of paper and celluloid.

Red and Sonny flanked the door like bookends. Jerry lounged against a wall between "Love Me Tender" and "Blue Hawaii" posters, trying to look casual and failing. The Colonel himself sat behind a desk (flown in specially) that had probably witnessed a thousand deals, smoking a cigar that put out enough smoke to rival a carnival cotton candy machine.

"Ah, Miss Pedretti." The Colonel's eyes twitched with what might have been amusement. Or annoyance. "Right on time. Coffee?"

"No, thank you." I remained standing, though there was an empty chair positioned precisely in front of his desk - red velvet with gold tassels. The power play was obvious - him elevated, me lower. I wasn't playing. Behind him, a young Elvis smiled down at me. From the very early days. Had there been a girl standing in my spot that day too? Someone else who thought she was different, special?

“Suit yourself." The Colonel gestured at a stack of newspapers spread across his desk, right beneath a photo of Elvis signing his first RCA contract. His mom and dad were in the photo. Her eyes were sad. My eyes were sad looking at her. "I assume you've seen the morning editions?"

I hadn't, but I could see the headlines from where I stood. ELVIS ENDS VEGAS RUN WITH A KISS. KING AND QUEEN OF ROCK REUNITED. And smaller, in the gossip columns: MYSTERY WOMAN IN ELVIS' INNER CIRCLE?

"The paper’s been particularly... creative with their speculation," the Colonel continued. "Something about a Chicago singer-slash-music teacher?"

A distant coo echoed through the ventilation system. Even Tom's dove was eavesdropping.

"Now," the Colonel leaned forward, his head briefly blocking out Army Elvis's crisp salute in the frame behind him, "we need to discuss how we're going to handle your transition to Memphis. I've taken the liberty of arranging—"

"Where’s Elvis?"

The question landed like a grenade in church. Jerry straightened slightly. Red and Sonny suddenly found the ceiling fascinating - specifically, the spot where a massive photograph showed Elvis and the Colonel shaking hands on that first Vegas contract.

"Mr. Presley is... indisposed." The Colonel's voice could have frosted glass. "Mrs. Presley's flight leaves shortly, and certain... appearances must be maintained."

Of course. The real Elvis was playing the devoted husband one last time, seeing Priscilla off. Probably at this very moment they were posing for photographers at the airport, adding one more perfect image to the collection.

I looked at movie star Elvis smoldering down at me from the "Viva Las Vegas" poster. Had Ann-Margret stood in a room like this too? Had the Colonel tried to manage her the same way?

"As I was saying," the Colonel continued, "I've arranged for a house—"

"No."

His eyebrows climbed toward what was left of his hairline. "I beg your pardon?"

"No thank you?"

The silence that followed could have choked a carnival strongman. A hundred Elvises watched the standoff - jumpsuit Elvis, leather Elvis, clean-cut Elvis, rebel Elvis. All of them waiting to see what happened when someone said no to the Colonel.

"Miss Pedretti." He said it like he was explaining physics to a child. "Perhaps you don't understand how things work in Memphis. Mr. Presley's... companions require certain... accommodations."

"I'm not his companion." The words came out harder than I meant them. "I'm not his anything. I'm just going to Memphis."

The Colonel's laugh had all the warmth of a snake's belly. "My dear girl, nobody 'just' goes to Memphis. Not in Elvis' world." He pushed a folder across the desk, right past a framed photo of Elvis handing him a gold watch. "Now, I've had my people draw up some papers. Simple things - non-disclosure agreements, property arrangements, a modest monthly allow—"

"No." I didn't touch the folder. "I don't want your house or your money or your papers."

"Then what exactly do you want?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. What did I want? Elvis, obviously. But which one? I looked around the room at all his faces. Which one was real? The one who sang hymns with me? The one who kissed his wife for the cameras? The one who...

A knock at the door saved me from answering. Joe stuck his head in, looking harried.

"Colonel? Sorry to interrupt, but we got a situation. Seems Dean Martin's passed out in the fountain again, and he's telling everyone who'll listen about Elvis and the towel incident..."

The Colonel's face went through several interesting color changes. "Christ on a cracker. Red, Sonny - go handle that. Jerry, get the car ready. Mrs. Presley can't be late for her flight." He turned back to me. "This conversation isn't over, Miss Pedretti."

"Yes," I said quietly. "It is."

I walked out before he could respond, passing under the watchful eyes of a dozen paper Elvises. Behind me, I heard Jerry whistle low.

"Girl's got stones," he murmured to someone.

"Girl's got a death wish," came the response.

Maybe they were both right. I glanced back one last time as the door closed. The Colonel sat fuming beneath his gallery of conquests - every image a reminder of his control over Elvis's destiny.

But I wasn't going to be just another picture on his wall.

*

I found Elvis in his suite, standing at the window in an emerald green suit that hung perfectly on his tall, lithe frame. He was watching something in the distance - maybe the desert, maybe nothing. The real thing was somehow both more and less than all those images in the Colonel's room.

Our reflections caught in the window glass - him in that perfect suit, me still wearing yesterday's mascara and this morning's doubts. Despite myself, I let my eyes linger on the picture we made together. We looked good, in a way that had nothing to do with staging or the Colonel's careful arrangements. Where Priscilla was all porcelain perfection and carefully coiffed hair, I was warmer, earthier. My olive skin glowed next to Elvis's golden tan. My long dark hair fell in natural waves, untamed by hairspray and hot rollers. Where Priscilla's baby doll lips seemed perpetually pursed in careful consideration, my wider mouth was made for laughter, for singing, for other things I tried not to think about.

Different kinds of beautiful, maybe. But standing there next to Elvis, I couldn't help but notice how well we fit.

The sound of my heels on the carpet made him turn. His eyes were hidden behind blue-tinted glasses. 

"Heard you had a meeting with the Colonel," he said softly.

"Gee. Word travels fast ‘round here."

His laugh was hollow. "Everything travels fast here. Except time." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which..."

"You have to take her to the airport."

"Back to Memphis," he nodded. "At least for now. She'll head back to California soon enough." Something flickered across his face - relief? Regret? "Just needs to..." He trailed off.

"Needs to what?"

"Settle some things. At Graceland." His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the implication. Priscilla would be there, in Memphis, when I arrived. On her turf. Or what used to be her turf.

"The Colonel had some interesting ideas about my living arrangements," I said, watching our reflections shift as Elvis moved closer.

His jaw tightened. "I told him to leave that alone."

"Did you really think he would?"

"No." He stepped behind me, his hands hovering near my shoulders but not quite touching. In the glass, we looked like a photograph waiting to be taken - the kind the Colonel would never allow. "But I hoped. Kind of like I hope you didn’t mean what you said. About finding your own place."

"I did."

"Even though I really want you to stay with me?"

"Even though."

In the window's reflection, I watched him study the contrast of us - his emerald suit against my rumpled red dress, his calculated (and rare) stillness against my untamed energy. When Priscilla stood next to him, they looked like matching dolls in a shop window. But this... we looked the part of the real couple. With real differences.

He nodded slowly. "You know what she said to me last night? After all the cameras were gone?"

I waited, watching his reflection's lips form the words.

"Said I better not turn you into another version of her." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Like I would even want that." His hands finally landed on my shoulders, warm through the thin fabric. "Look at you. Telling the Colonel no. Standing here looking like... like..."

"Like what?"

"Like the answer to my prayers."

I turned to face him then, breaking the spell of our reflection. Without the glass between us, he was more real, more dangerous. His hands slid down my arms, leaving heat in their wake.

"Elvis—"

A knock at the door made us both jump. Jerry's voice carried through: "Boss? Car's ready."

"Be right there." Elvis' hands tightened briefly on my arms before letting go. When he finally faced me, his eyes were tired behind those blue-tinted glasses. Human. "I have to..."

"I know."

He crossed the space between us in one fluid movement, caught my face between his hands. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he pressed his forehead to mine. He smelled of mint and promises.

"Wait for me?" he whispered. "I'll be back after..."

"After you play the dutiful husband one last time?"

His hands tightened slightly. "That ain’t fair."

"None of this is fair." 

I could be detached. I could deal with the casual dalliances and the pills, as long as it didn’t get out of hand. But Priscilla’s presence somehow still made my stomach queasy. I think it was the title. Wife had a certain ring to it. A certain authority, an outward declaration. I wanted that role. 

"No." He pulled back, slipped his glasses into place. Just like that, he was Elvis Presley again. "But it's what we've got."

The door opened and Red stuck his head in. "Boss? Mrs. Presley's ready."

Elvis straightened his jacket, checked his reflection one last time. Perfect again. Camera-ready. But just before he turned away, I caught him looking at our reflection once more - that impossible, imperfect picture of what could be.

"See you when I get back?" he asked.

I thought about all those images in the Colonel's room. All those different versions of Elvis, frozen in time. Which one would come back to me?

"Yeah," I said. "I'll be here."

He paused at the door, looking back. For a second, I could see him wanting to say something more. Then Jerry appeared with a reminder about airport traffic, and the moment was gone.

I watched from the window as they loaded into the waiting cars - Elvis in the lead car with Priscilla, the Memphis Mafia spread through the others like an honor guard. Even from so many floors up, I could see the photographers waiting. One last photo op of the perfect couple before reality set in.

*

I stayed at the window long after the cars disappeared, watching Vegas shimmer in the morning heat. Behind me, Elvis's suite felt different without him in it - bigger, emptier, more obviously a stage set than a home. His books were still scattered around, they hadn’t been packed up yet. A half-empty glass of water sat on the bedside table, aspirin dissolving forgotten at the bottom.

The phone rang, making me jump. Probably the Colonel, ready for round two.

But it was Lamar's voice that came through the line. "Valerie? You might want to come down to the lobby."

"Why?"

"Press got wind of something. They're asking about a Chicago music teacher."

My stomach dropped. "How many?"

"Enough." He paused. "Bring sunglasses. And maybe a scarf."

The lobby had transformed into a circus since I'd passed through it earlier. Photographers clustered around the entrance like hungry wolves, their cameras ready. Someone had leaked something. It didn't matter now.

What mattered was protecting Elvis.

I thought about Ann-Margret, about how she'd lost him partly because she'd talked to the press. About how fiercely he guarded his private world, even while living in the spotlight. About how trust, once broken, never quite mended the same way.

The Colonel stood near the reception desk, watching me with calculating eyes. For once, we wanted the same thing - to control this story. Just for very different reasons.

"Miss Pedretti." His voice carried across the lobby. "A word?"

Every head turned. I felt the cameras swivel, seeking their new target. Someone whispered "That's her." Another voice: "The teacher." A third: “I heard she’s a bar singer.”

I touched the scarf at my throat - one of Elvis's, smelling faintly of his cologne. Beneath it, my pulse hammered against my neck.

I had two choices: run back to the elevator, or face this head-on. But there was really only one choice. Because whatever happened next, I wouldn't be the one to betray Elvis's trust.

I dropped the scarf and sunglasses in my purse - hiding would only make it worse - and walked through the lobby like I had every right to be there. Like I was exactly what I'd tell them I was: a music teacher and a studio session musician (okay, so I stretched the truth a little) who'd found herself in an extraordinary situation, nothing more.

The cameras went crazy, questions flying like bullets: "Miss Pedretti, what's your relationship with Elvis?" 

"Are you moving to Memphis?" 

"What about Mrs. Presley?"

I stopped, turned, met their hungry gazes with a calm I didn't feel. When I spoke, my voice was steady.

"Mr. Presley has been very kind to a fellow musician. We share an interest in rhythm and blues. And gospel." A truth, if not the whole truth. "Beyond that, I don't discuss my friendships. If you have questions about Mr. Presley, I suggest you speak to his management."

The Colonel's eyebrows rose slightly - surprise? approval? - as I walked past him toward the exit. The cameras kept firing, but I didn't stop again.

I'd protected what mattered. Everything else was just noise.

*

A short while later, the Colonel caught up with me at the elevator on my walk back from lunch. "Interesting performance this afternoon."

"Not a performance."

"No?" His mustache twitched. "Could've fooled me. Very neat, very clean. 'Fellow musician.' 'Gospel music.' Almost like you'd rehearsed it."

The elevator doors opened. I stepped in, but he caught the door before it could close.

"Maybe," he said slowly, "we got off on the wrong foot this morning."

"Maybe."

"A girl who knows how to handle the press... that's valuable." He studied me with new interest. "Very valuable. Perhaps we could discuss those arrangements again—"

"No." But I softened it with a small smile. "Though I do appreciate the offer, Mr. Parker."

The doors started to close. This time he let them.

Back in my room, the phone was ringing again. Deena, probably, having had time to stew on it all. But when I picked up, it was Jerry.

"Boss wanted you to know he saw what you did down there earlier. Says to tell you..." 

Word traveled fast in this crew. I filed that bit of information away for later use. 

He paused, and could hear him smiling somehow. He was choosing his words carefully, aware of who might be listening. "Says you did good."

My throat tightened. "He's still at the airport?"

"On his way back, I think. Photographers were everywhere, of course." Jerry's voice dropped lower. "Listen, about Memphis..." I heard other voices behind him. “Listen, I’ll call you back.”

*

Lamar materialized at my door. "Boss is here. Wants you to meet him out back. Service entrance. Less cameras."

Less cameras, but not no cameras. There were always cameras now.

I found Elvis leaning against his Cadillac in the service alley, still in that perfect green suit but somehow looking more rumpled. His glasses were off, and his eyes were red-rimmed. The pills had worn off again. I made a mental note to watch his use a little more carefully. Just in case.

"Hey," he said softly.

"How was the airport?"

"Like a damn circus." He rubbed his face. "We played it perfect, of course. Always do. All smiles and waves, right up until she got on that plane." He paused. "Heard you had your own circus down here."

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Yeah." Something flickered in his expression. "Jerry told me what you said. About the gospel music."

"It's true, isn't it? We do share an interest."

"That all we share?"

The question hung between us like smoke. I thought about all those photographers, hungry for any hint of scandal. About the Colonel's calculating eyes. About Priscilla, perfect to the last moment.

"That's all they need to know," I said finally.

He studied me for a long moment, then pushed off from the car. In two strides he was there, his hands framing my face like he had in the suite. But this time he didn't stop.

The kiss was different than any we'd shared before - desperate, almost angry. Like he was trying to prove something. To me, to himself, to the whole damn world. His hands slid into my hair, messing it up.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

"Inside," he muttered. "Now."

But before we could move, a flash went off at the end of the alley.

"Shit." Elvis turned, putting himself between me and the photographer. "Red! Sonny!"

The Memphis Mafia materialized from nowhere, intercepting the photographer who was already running. But we all knew it was too late.

Elvis's hands were shaking worse now. "Val, I—"

"Don't." I straightened my hair, tried to calm my racing heart. "We knew this would happen eventually."

"The Colonel's gonna—"

"Let me handle the Colonel."

He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Handle the Colonel? Baby, nobody handles the Colonel."

"I dunno.” I giggled like I knew something Elvis didn’t. “I kinda think he’s starting to like me.”

Another flash, this one from a different angle. Elvis swore under his breath.

"Get inside," he said. "I'll deal with this."

"Elvis—"

"Please." His voice cracked slightly. "Just... let me fix this. I can fix this."

But as I watched him stride toward the gathering photographers, all controlled power and perfect posture again, I wondered which version of "fixed" we were about to get.

*

Back in the hotel, everything moved fast. The Memphis Mafia scattered like pool balls after a break, each man with his own mission. Jerry was on the phone with newspapers, his voice smooth as silk: "No comment at this time." Red had the photographer's camera - though we all knew there had to be more photos out there. Lamar was coordinating with hotel security to lock down the service entrances. Sonny and Marty were watching the elevators on our floor.

And somewhere, the Colonel was planning.

I made it to the elevator before he found me.

"Inside." He didn't wait for my response, just steered me into the car with surprising strength for a man his age. The doors closed on us, and he hit the button for his floor.

"Mr. Parker—"

"Not one word." His voice was deadly quiet. "Not until we're in my office." So much for him starting to like me. 

The elevator seemed to crawl. Somewhere above us, that damn dove cooed - even it knew we were in trouble.

His office felt different now. All those Elvis images on the walls weren't just pictures anymore - they were warnings. See what I built? See what I can destroy?

"Sit."

This time, I sat.

"Now then." He lit a cigar with deliberate calm. "Let's discuss what happens next."

"Nothing happens next. It was just a kiss."

His laugh could have stripped paint. "Just a kiss? With a married man? In broad daylight? After you so carefully told those reporters you were 'just friends'?" He blew a perfect smoke ring. "No, my dear. This is what happens next: You're going to take a generous settlement and disappear. Back to Chicago, preferably. We'll spin it as a brief friendship, nothing more. Elvis was being kind to a fellow musician, just like you said. End of story."

"No." 

"No?" His eyebrows climbed. "Perhaps you didn't understand. This isn't a negotiation."

"You're right." I met his gaze. "It's not. Because there's nothing to negotiate. I’m not disappearing unless—"

"Then let me be clearer." He leaned forward. "Elvis Presley is more than a man. He's an industry. An empire. And that empire is built on certain... understandings. With his public. With his wife."

"His wife who lives in California?"

His mustache twitched. "A temporary arrangement."

"Like I'm supposed to be? Another 'temporary arrangement'?"

"Now you're beginning to understand."

“I’ll only go away if Elvis wants me to. I’d like to hear it from him, please.”

As if on cue, the phone on his desk rang. He answered it, listened, then held it out to me.

"For you. It's Elvis." His smile hadn't wavered. "He's going to tell you he's fixed everything. That there's a plan. A story we're going to tell." He paused. "The question is: are you going to play along?"

I took the phone, my hand steady despite everything.

"Elvis?"

"Baby, listen..." His voice was tight. "I know what to do. But you're not going to like it."

Behind his desk, the Colonel watched me like a snake watching a mouse. Some choices, I was learning, weren't really choices at all. But how you played them - that was everything.

"The story's simple," Elvis said, his voice tight with something between exhaustion and resignation. "You're my new backup singer. Been rehearsing in secret. That's why you're coming to Memphis. Professional opportunity, nothing more."

​​I watched the Colonel's satisfied smile grow behind his cigar smoke. Of course this was his idea - neat, clean, controllable. A story that would explain everything while revealing nothing.

"The kiss..." Elvis continued.

"Was gratitude," I finished, seeing the shape of it. "Excitement over the opportunity. A momentary celebration caught at an unfortunate angle."

"Yeah." He sounded tired. So tired. "Colonel's already got the contracts drawn up. Real ones, not just for show. You'll actually have to..."

"Sing backup?" I almost laughed. "Elvis, I've been singing my whole life."

"Yeah, but this is different. This is..."

"Playing a part?"

The silence on the line spoke volumes.

"It's a good solution," the Colonel cut in, clearly having heard every word on his extension. "Clean. Professional. Gives you a legitimate reason to be in Memphis, access to Graceland for rehearsals, everything you want. Just with... proper boundaries."

Proper boundaries. Right. Like the ones he'd established for all those other girls, the ones whose pictures didn't make it onto his wall of fame.

"There's one condition," Elvis said suddenly. "My condition, not the Colonel's."

I waited.

"You keep your own place. Like you wanted. No arrangements, no settlements. You do this as a professional, not as..."

Not as what? His mistress? His kept woman? Another Ann-Margret who got too close to the sun?

"Okay," I said.

The Colonel's eyebrows rose slightly. He'd expected more fight, more negotiation. But he didn't understand - I wasn't negotiating. I was playing chess.

"Just like that?" Elvis sounded surprised too.

"Just like that." I kept my voice level, professional. "When do we start rehearsals?"

What followed was a blur of activity. Contracts appeared as if by magic - the Colonel had probably had them ready since that first elevator ride. Throughout it all, I signed where I was told, smiled when expected, played the part of the grateful unknown singer getting her big break. 

Statements were prepared for the press. A schedule materialized for rehearsals, appearances, recordings. Something flickered in the old man’s eyes - recognition, maybe. Of what, I wasn't sure yet. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was "handled." The photos from the alley had mysteriously vanished, though we all knew copies existed somewhere. The press had their official story. Even that damn dove seemed to have finally found somewhere else to roost.

"Perhaps," the Colonel said softly, "I underestimated you."

I smiled and headed back to my room.

*

Packing shouldn't have been hard. I hadn't brought much to Vegas in the first place. But somehow my belongings had multiplied, scattered across the suite like evidence of a life I hadn't planned on living.

"You'll want to pack light," Jerry said from the doorway. He'd appeared with coffee and what he called "Memphis wisdom," though I suspected he just didn't want me to be alone after the alley incident. "Graceland's got its own weather system. Nothing you bring is gonna make sense there anyway."

"Helpful, Jer. Real helpful." I held up two dresses - one Elvis had sent up last week, one I'd brought from Chicago. The difference in quality was almost embarrassing.

"Take both," he advised. "You'll need the fancy one for show, the real one to feel like yourself." He paused. "That's the trick, you know. For when everything else gets crazy."

I folded both dresses carefully, thinking about Elvis's books scattered across my bed, their margins filled with his handwritten notes. Questions, observations, searches for meaning in scientific formulas and ancient wisdom. I'd been packing them when Jerry arrived.

"Speaking of crazy," Red's voice came from the hall, "wait'll you meet the Memphis ladies." He joined Jerry in the doorway, looking oddly formal. "Got a whole briefing prepared for you about that."

"A briefing?"

"Those women are sharks in southern belle clothing," he said seriously. "Especially the ones who've had their eye on Elvis since high school. They're gonna hate you on principle."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Red."

"Just trying to prepare you." But his eyes were kind. "Though something tells me you can handle them just fine."

I picked up Elvis's jacket from the chair - the one I'd been wearing this morning when everything changed. His cologne still clung to it faintly, mixing with the gin stains from last night's party. Had that really been less than 24 hours ago?

"Leave the jacket," Jerry said quietly. "Trust me on that one."

Before I could respond, Lamar appeared behind Red and Jerry, making the doorway look like a Memphis Mafia convention.

"Y'all telling stories about Memphis?" He squeezed past them into the room. "Let me tell you about Elvis's first day at Graceland. There he is, king of the world, right? And he can't figure out how to work the dang intercom system. Kept accidentally broadcasting everything to the whole house. And I mean everything." He winked. "Including some very private conversations with very private guests, if you know what I mean."

"Lamar," Jerry warned.

"What? She should know what she's getting into! Place is like a funhouse sometimes. Secret passages, hidden doors, two-way windows - Elvis had them put in during renovations. Says it's for security, but really he just likes playing hide and seek."

I tried to picture it - Elvis Presley, the king of rock and roll, playing hide and seek in his mansion. What would he need a two-way window for? Yet, somehow it wasn't hard to imagine at all.

The phone rang, making us all jump. The Memphis Mafia exchanged glances.

"That'll be your pal again," Jerry said. "She's called four times."

I stared at the phone. "How do you know?"

"We know everything, honey." Red smiled. "Part of the job."

I picked up the receiver. Sure enough: "Val? Finally! I've been trying to call you back all day!"

The Memphis Mafia made themselves scarce, but not before Jerry mouthed "be careful" and tapped his ear - reminding me that in Vegas, walls had ears and phones had extensions.

"Dee." I cut her off, gentle but firm. "I need you to listen very carefully. Can you do that?"

A pause. Then, quieter: "Yeah."

"I can't tell you everything. Not yet. But I need you to trust me when I say that what's in those papers... it's not the whole story. And I need you to not tell anyone anything beyond what's already out there. Can you do that for me?"

The silence stretched so long I thought we'd been disconnected. Finally: "This is really serious, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I twisted the phone cord around my finger. "It really is."

"But you're okay? You're being careful?"

I thought about the Colonel's offer, about Elvis's message through Jerry, about all the delicate threads I was trying to navigate.

"I'm trying to be."

"Val, a backup singer? Really? That's the story they're going with?"

I started folding a sweater, phone cradled against my shoulder. "That's the truth they're going with."

She caught the emphasis. "Oh. Oh." A pause. "So we're not talking about the real truth yet?"

"Not yet."

Another pause. Then: "Okay. But Valerie?"

"Yeah?"

"When you can tell me... when it's safe... you'll tell me everything?"

"Everything I can," I promised. "Just... not yet."

After I hung up, I found Elvis's books again. Opening one at random, I found a passage underlined: "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." In the margin, his handwriting asked: "But what if you're living multiple truths?"

*

A knock at the door made me look up. Elvis stood there, looking somehow both perfect and wrecked. His hair was immaculate but his eyes were tired behind his glasses.

"Hey," he said softly. He took in the scene - the half-packed suitcases, the scattered books, his jacket still draped over the chair.

"Need help packing?"

"I’m almost done. Just trying to figure out what belongs in Memphis and what should stay in Vegas."

He understood the real question. Moving into the room, he picked up one of his books. "Take ‘em all," he said. "We can read them together at Graceland. When things are... quiet."

"Does it get quiet there?"

"Sometimes. Late at night, or early morning. When everyone else is asleep." He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb my packing. "It's different than here. Better in some ways, harder in others."

"Because of Priscilla?"

"Because of everything." He rubbed his face. "You know she redecorated the whole place when we got married? Made it exactly what she thought it should be."

"Nothing wrong with that, Elvis. That’s what women do." I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah but now it's like living in a museum sometimes. Even the air feels..." He trailed off.

"Curated?"

"Yeah." He looked at me then, really looked at me. "That's what I love about you, you know? You always find the right words."

"That why you kissed me? In the alley?"

His hands tightened on the book he was holding. "I kissed you because I couldn't not kiss you anymore."

The air between us felt electric, dangerous.

"Baby—"

"I know." He stood up abruptly. "I know we can't. Not now. Not with everything..." He gestured vaguely. "But in Memphis. When things settle… God, Valley Cat, I can’t wait to…”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever he might have said next. Joe stuck his head in.

"Boss? Car's ready whenever you are. And the Colonel wants—"

"Tell the Colonel I'll be there when I'm there." For once, Elvis's voice held an edge of real authority. I liked it.

Joe disappeared. Elvis turned back to me.

"I have to go. More appearances, more pictures, more..." He shrugged. "You know."

"I know."

He moved to the door, then stopped. "The backup singer story... I'm sorry about that. I know it's not what you wanted."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. But it's what we've got." He smiled slightly. "For now."

After he left, I continued packing. The books went in first - all of them, even the ones I hadn't read yet. Then the dresses, both fancy and plain. But the jacket... Jerry was right. The jacket stayed behind.

The sun was setting over Vegas, painting the desert in shades of pink and gold. From my window, I could see photographers still lingering near the hotel entrance. Four weeks ago, I'd stood at this same window, watching Elvis's world from the outside. Now I was part of it, for better or worse.

A familiar coo made me look up. That damn dove was perched on my windowsill, looking remarkably pleased with itself.

"You're not coming to Memphis," I told it firmly.

It just cooed again, like it knew something I didn't.

Maybe it did.

*

I was deep in dreamless sleep when the knock came. So faint I almost missed it. For a moment I thought it was part of the dream, until it came again. Soft, uncertain, not like Elvis's usual confident rap.

When I opened the door, he was leaning against the frame, pajama shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes unfocused behind his glasses. His hair, usually perfect, fell across his forehead in a way that made him look impossibly young.

"Hey songbird," he slurred slightly. "Can I... can I come in?"

I hesitated. I'd never seen him this far gone before.

He swayed a little, caught himself. "Please?" His voice cracked on the word. "Just need... need somewhere quiet. Need you."

Something in my chest twisted at the naked vulnerability in his voice. I stepped aside to let him in. He made it three steps before stumbling. I caught him, guided him to the nearest chair.

"Everything's spinning," he mumbled, letting his head fall back. "Doctor Nick gave me something new. Said it would help with the... with the..." He gestured vaguely at his head. "But it's not... I can't..."

"Shh," I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "It's okay."

"No." He caught my hand, pressed it to his cheek. "Not okay."

He pulled me down onto his lap, hands clumsy but insistent as they found the zipper of my nightgown. "Need you," he mumbled against my neck. "Been needing you so long..."

For a moment, I let myself feel it - the weight of him, the heat of his mouth, everything I'd been dreaming about since that first elevator ride. But his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't manage the zipper. His words slurred together as he tried to kiss me and missed.

"Not like this," I said softly, catching his hands. "Not when you're not yourself."

"But I am myself," he insisted, eyes struggling to focus. "Love you. I love you."

My heart stopped. "Elvis, you're not—"

"No." He pressed his forehead to mine, suddenly intense. "This is right. I love you. Been trying not to but I do."

His voice broke on the last word and suddenly he was crying - silent tears sliding down his perfect face. Without thinking, I gathered him to me, cradling his head against my chest. He curled into me like a child, all that powerful frame somehow becoming small and lost.

"It's okay," I whispered, rocking him slowly. "I've got you."

I held him like that for what felt like hours, studying his face in the dim light. The thick fan of his lashes wet with tears. The vulnerable curve of his mouth. The slight tremor in his jaw that betrayed how hard he was fighting for control.

Something shifted in my chest - a fierce protectiveness mixing with a love so deep it almost scared me. I wanted to be needed by him. Wanted to be the one who could hold him like this, who could see him at his most vulnerable and love him more for it, not less.

"M'sorry," he mumbled eventually. "Didn't mean to... to fall apart like that."

"Don't be sorry." I wiped his cheeks gently. "Ever."

He caught my hand, pressed a clumsy kiss to my palm. "Still coming to Memphis? Even after seeing me like this?"

"Especially after seeing you like this."

We made our slow way to his suite, him leaning heavily on my shoulder. The halls were empty - the Memphis Mafia mysteriously absent. Maybe they knew to give him this privacy. This moment of absolute vulnerability.

At his door, he turned to me. For a second, his eyes cleared.

"Meant it," he said softly. "About loving you."

"I know." I touched his cheek. "But tell me again tomorrow when you're you."

"Promise you'll still be here tomorrow?"

"Promise."

I waited until his door closed before letting out the breath I'd been holding. The empty hallway suddenly felt very long, very quiet. We'd have to talk about the pills eventually. About limits and boundaries and all the things that could go wrong. But not tonight.

Tonight, I just wanted to remember the weight of him in my arms. The trust it took for him to let me see him like this. The way my heart had cracked and mended and grown when he'd said he loved me, even through the chemical haze.

Because somewhere between that first elevator ride and this moment, between Vegas glamour and raw need, I'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with him. Not Elvis Presley the star, but this complicated, brilliant, troubled man who read numerology and cried in my arms and trusted me to get him home safe.

I wasn't going anywhere.

*

Morning came too soon. The hotel staff who'd barely noticed me four weeks ago now watched my every move, their eyes following me with a mix of curiosity and calculation. The maids whispered in corners. The bellhops suddenly knew my name. Even the woman who'd cleaned my room every day, Marie, looked at me differently as she helped pack my final items.

"You take care," she said softly, folding my last dress. "It's not like Vegas there."

The front desk clerk who'd checked me in that first day - Brenda, still blizzard-cold - handed me my final bill with a knowing smile. "So. Backup singer?"

I just smiled, remembering how she'd dismissed me a month ago. How I'd been nobody then - just another hopeful in a city full of them. Now I was somebody. Or at least, I was somebody's somebody.

Elvis had left earlier, his departure orchestrated by the Colonel down to the last detail. Priscilla was already in Memphis, preparing Graceland. I would fly commercial, arrive hours after them. Keep up appearances. Play the part.

I wasn't to go near Graceland, not yet. Not while Priscilla was there. The Colonel had made that crystal clear - I was to find an apartment far away from Graceland until... until what? Until Priscilla left? Until some arbitrary waiting period passed? Until the scandal died down? I felt caught in limbo, neither here nor there.

My stomach churned with guilt as I thought about her. How must she feel, knowing her husband's... what was I exactly? Mistress seemed too tawdry, girlfriend too simple for whatever this complex thing between Elvis and me was becoming. But whatever I was, I was coming to her town, into her world. Sure, Elvis swore their marriage was over, that she had her own life in California now. But she was still his wife. Still the woman whose home I was effectively invading, even if I wouldn't be living under her roof.

My cheeks burned with shame. Part of me wanted to do right by her - maybe even eventually talk to her, explain... what? That I loved her husband? That I couldn't help myself? That I believed him when he said they were done?

But another part of me bristled at feeling guilty at all. If they really were separated, if she really was building a new life in California, why shouldn't I be with Elvis? Why shouldn't I take this chance with him?

I made a mental note to find out the truth about their marriage - not from Elvis, whose view was complicated by pills and promises, but from someone who would know. Maybe Jerry. Maybe Red. Someone who could tell me if divorce was really on the horizon or if I was just another chapter in Elvis' story of extramarital adventures.

The press lingered outside despite the early hour, their cameras ready. I spotted the one who'd caught us in the alley - he had the decency to look slightly ashamed when our eyes met.

Red appeared at my elbow as I headed for the cab. "Ready?"

"No."

He laughed. "Nobody ever is."

Looking up at the International's gleaming façade, I remembered that first day. How overwhelming it had all seemed. How impossible. I'd been so naive then, thinking talent and determination were enough. Now I knew better. Now I knew about pills and promises, about public faces and private truths, about loving someone so completely that even their broken pieces felt precious.

A familiar coo made me look up one last time. That damn dove sat on the hotel awning, watching my departure like it had watched everything else.

"Still here?" I called up to it.

Red followed my gaze. "Tom's trying to catch it, you know. Says it's his responsibility."

"Tell him to let it be." I smiled. "Some things aren't meant to be caught."

The cab pulled up. Red loaded my bags while I took one last look at the Strip, already shimmering in the heat. Somewhere up there was the elevator where it all began. The suite where Elvis had cried in my arms last night. The lobby where I'd first heard him laugh.

"Miss?" The driver was waiting.

I slid into the back seat, letting Vegas fall away behind me. In a few hours, I'd be in Memphis. In Graceland. In Elvis's world for real.

The morning sun caught my reflection in the cab window. I looked different somehow. Older, maybe. Or just... more. More aware. More certain. More myself.

"Airport," I told the driver. Then, softer, more to myself than anyone: "Time to see what Memphis has in store."

As we pulled away, I could have sworn I heard one last coo from above. A goodbye, maybe. Or a warning.

Either way, there was no turning back now.

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[belit0]

Hi can you do Madara with number 2. Love your writing style especially the Madara ones.

(Part 2 of the Uchiha Mafia AU) @twilightlover2007

2) Madara: Oh, can’t find your clothes? Wear mine, they look better on you anyway.

Thank you so much for your words!! I truly appreacite you take the time to request something, thank you!

In fact, this prompt inspired me to make this writing part of the same world as this Mafia AU I did for Izuna, happening in the same universe, you know?

Technically, in that piece, I didn't reveal Izuna was part of the mafia, but well, now we know!!

I like to think the readers of both stories are two different characters, because I wouldn't want the same (Y/N) fucking both brothers at the same time lol.

Eventually, both stories will come together as one.

Vain, cocky, smug Uchiha, the one who knows how to fuck a woman with finesse and leave her satisfied to then gloat about his handiwork. The one who knows where and how to touch, what pressure and at what speed, to get you undone under his hands and show you a mocking smile.

The world's largest mafia family carries the rumor of having the best sexual performance, and (Y/N) experienced firsthand the reason for this saying. The famous phrase goes something like "Ugly shall be that Uchiha who doesn't know what he is doing in bed." and (Y/N) now understands it doesn't apply to this man's case.

Probably to nobody in the family, considering they are all so damn beautiful.

Madara, he had said his name was, Uchiha Madara. (Y/N) was surprised to spontaneously meet someone from such an important clan on a Friday night at a bar. It was he who approached her, sweet-talked her with pretty words and expensive liquor, and pulled her into his car amid kisses and heated advances.

...

The girl wakes up with a hint of pain between her legs telling stories about the night before, and all alone in bed. She can hear the shower in the background and assumes her companion jumped in it to get ready for the day.

It's Saturday, yet the man goes to work all the same.

The sun shines timidly on the horizon through the window, and (Y/N) estimates it's not even 6 am. She took a small, involuntary nap when Madara finished eating her pussy, passing out from both stimulation and exhaustion.

They had arrived at his house around 10 p.m. after having a few drinks, the Uchiha winning her over with his charm and looks. The girl could not refuse the invitation of such a beautiful man and fell easily into his bed. He pleasured her all night long, alternating between his fingers, cock, and tongue to make her touch the sky with her hands.

Just when (Y/N) thought he was done with her, a new round began. They moved around the room in different positions, holding her against the mirror so she could look at herself while he fucked her from behind, bent over his vanity for easier access to her pussy, on the bed turned over to swallow his dick, and almost choking in the attempt because of its size.

The man prove to know what he was doing, to the point where (Y/N) could not get her body to respond. By the time she finally passed out from pleasure and fatigue, he let her rest for as long as it would take him to shower and dress for his morning meetings.

…

The girl looks at her body and notices she is, of course, completely naked. There are a series of scratches and bites decorating her skin, memories that will remain for her to later tell her friends and show evidence. Sitting up on the mattress, she looks around the floor for her clothes, but they seem to have vanished.

Neither under the bed, nor among the sheets, nor between all the objects left scattered around the room. None of her garments want to show up and give her a hand, and (Y/N) feels totally exposed. It's one thing to fuck a beautiful man who knows what he's doing with a few drinks under her belt, but it's quite another to confront him face to face after a cheeky night like the one they had.

Even more so if, on top of that, it's an Uchiha man we’re talking about.

"Looking for this?" Madara smirks at her from the entrance of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame with a towel around his waist. He looks fresh out of the shower, with droplets falling down his body unabashedly and his hair fully pulled back away from his face. On his index finger, he holds her black thong and flashes it teasingly in her face. "I regret to inform you it will remain here, for my collection, of course."

As if his words were not at all scandalous, he proceeds to his dressing room and changes into his business suit as if nothing. After boxers and pants, he buttons his white collared shirt sickeningly fast, ignoring the naked girl on his bed. "I need... I need my... I can't leave without..."

"Oh, can't find your clothes? Wear mine, they will look better on you anyway."

The Uchiha tosses her a pair of gym pants that presumably fits her too big with a pajama shirt, and finds among the mess in the room her heels. It will be a flashy and bizarre outfit, to say the least, but it will get her home without having to walk around naked.

"There's a car waiting for you downstairs, to drive you home. It's my head driver. I'll see you soon, (Y/N)." Finishing getting ready as he speaks, the Uchiha smiles mischievously at her one last time before walking out of the room. A few seconds later, she hears the front entrance close, and the girl tries to recap what happened.

She just fucked one of the biggest mobsters in the world, and he confirmed they would meet again. Maybe not explicitly, but you know what I mean. Stunned, she alludes to the effort of searching for her dress and decides to settle into her bizarre attire, leaving Madara's penthouse to head for the parking lot.

…

"Miss (Y/N)?" A man in a suit and sunglasses asks leaning against an Audi Nardo gray RS3. If the luxury of the Uchiha's home wasn't too much, he noticeably doesn't skimp with his transportation either. The presumed driver opens the door, then closes it behind her once she’s in. He doesn't even ask her home address, heading towards the location as if he already knew it in advance. Looking at her through the rearview mirror, he notices the girl catches on to this detail and explains with a smile "There is nothing escaping the Uchiha. Once you are connected with one of them, they know everything about you. More so if we talk about second in command."

[bellofthemeadow]

Blended Hearts and Bitter Brew | Part 2

Summary: Your life was boring, hoping for your big break, you were stuck at Starbucks for what felt like forever. The hot metalhead that just came through your door might just be the amount of shit-stirring fun you've been looking for. (3.8K)

A/N: Hey everyone, I am very sorry for the delay for this chapter, its been quite crazy at work and with the ini starting again (MY LAST ONE YEHHH!), things have been even more intense. So, it's safe to say it's been quite a whirlwind. I also had to delete my previous post because I encountered an issue with the chapter that required me to go back and make some fixes. I'm hopeful that everything is resolved now - fingers crossed!

Additionally, I'd like to extend an invitation to anyone who may have questions or requests for me. I would be absolutely thrilled to have the opportunity to work on them. I'll be away for a few days, and there's nothing I'd love more than to find myself writing by the lake, to be honest. Thank you all for all of your support and kind words, I love you all very much!!

Taglist: @hehekittyhawk

Warning: SMUT, phone sex, discussion of sex, masturbation, wearing, suggestive language, reference to bratting and brat taming (18+) (no minors like at all!!!)

The Phone Call

Usually, after a long day at work, you were more than ready to head home and collapse on the couch while munching on an entire box of hot pockets. Today was a bit different, though. For the first time in a long while, you were actually... excited! Still riding the high from your encounter with Eddie, you took the extra 10 minutes out of your way to stop at the corner store and grab the second cheapest bottle of wine (Fancy) that you could find! Cradling the bottle like you were Gollum with the ring, you were ready to let loose and get a bit frisky.

You got home quickly, stepping through the streets of Indianapolis, your overheated mood a total contrast to the frosty outside. After a quick shower where you made sure to scrub every inch of your skin, which was now pinkish from the scalding heat of the water, you put on your favourite black satiny robe. The soft frock hugged you deliciously, flowing around you like water and reaching just beneath your ass, highlighting its fleshy curve. In front of your antique floor mirror that you’d found in a second-hand shop, you gave yourself a saucy wink while twirling like a damn Jewelry box ballerina. A slutty ballerina, in your case.

You giggled to yourself as you sifted through the kitchen drawer, searching for the candle you were certain you'd received during last year's Secret Santa. Your hand moved blindly, finally identifying the candle's rounded shape with your extended fingers. As you grasped it, you opened the container and took a deep sniff—Peppermint Mocha. You snorted; your manager really was an unimaginative dick. Well, it would have to do for tonight.

You lit it up using the lighter you had stashed under one of your flowerpots for smoking emergencies. You had promised yourself that you would cut back on smoking this year, but every once in a while, nothing could help ease the tension like a good cigarette. It was also unmatched after sex, although THAT front had been pretty quiet in the last few months. Perhaps Eddie could help resolve that, you thought with a cheeky smirk as you imagined him pulling harshly on your hair as you devoured his tattooed neck.

You let the pepperminty aroma waft through the room as you started to set the mood around your little shoebox studio. It wasn’t much – barely enough space for a double bed and a small round table – but it was all yours. You didn't have to share with anybody, didn’t have to abide by anyone’s schedule but your own. If you wanted to get high and eat ice cream straight out of the tube, or if you wanted to practice the riff you couldn’t quite get right on your guitar until early morning, or if, like tonight, you wanted to set a sultry mood and masturbate thinking about Eddie’s tattooed chest… Well, you damn well could.

You sink down to the ground and settle onto your round, fluffy carpet. This very carpet had been among the first pieces you had bought after settling in your new life in Indianapolis. Regret over this purchase had never crossed your mind; its deep burgundy shade harmonizes exquisitely with the studio's dusky tones. And right now, as you reach for your vinyl collection, you can feel all of its fibers against your bare legs. Your senses heightened since the afternoon; its gentle touch now feels almost teasing against your puckered skin making you shiver deliciously.

You allow your index finger to roam over the spines of the hundreds of vinyl records stacked at the foot of your bed. There were so many of them that you reckon you could use them as a bedside table or something. You were quite proud of them if you were completely honest. You’d spent so much time curating this collection since your dad brought home a vinyl player for your 11th birthday. Your dad had insisted that "its sound is far superior to them boom boxes kids use these days." Along with the player, he had purchased your first ever metal album: "Master of Puppets," That night, you had both spent the rest of your birthday listening to the music with your dad, both huddled in the living room, heads bobbing to the harsh rhythm of the tracks—much to your mom's annoyance who must have shouted "SHUT IT DOWN" at least a dozen times before you’d gone to bed, feeling like your life had changed completely. After that, there was no turning back. Ripped jeans, short black skirts, fishnets, and leather became your uniform, and music became your greatest lover.

You reached out and retrieved the specific record you had in mind. Gently sliding the sleek, obsidian vinyl out from its protective sleeve, you cradled it delicately. As the stylus met the surface, K. K. Downing’s guitar strings struck like a punch to your senses, in a delectable impact of metal. The music flowed through you like an electric current, coursing through the grooves, infiltrating your ears, and permeating every fibre of your being, until you were immersed, entwined, and carried away by the raw yet exquisite sound.

Moved by the beat, you rose and started swaying back and forth, the music's rush flooding you until you didn’t exist. Music always held a flavour more alluring than any drink and a sensation more ravishing than any drug – music consistently brought you to a peak of euphoria that couldn't be replicated by anything else. You loved that feeling; the one where you would float over the world in your own little bubble, where no one and nothing mattered except for you and the music.

 Your hand found the bottle of wine resting on the kitchen counter, and you took a large gulp, letting the burning liquid cascade down your throat. With the buzz of the wine slowly enveloping you and the music infusing life into your being, you began to move your hands up and down your body, tracing your curves beneath the satin of your robe.

Swaying your hips to the music, you let your mind drift back to Eddie; his husky voice as he tried to tease you, the mischievous tint behind his hazel eyes that you hoped would, when properly provoked, turn more devious—perhaps even a touch wicked. You let your mind wander to what Eddie was hiding behind that Metallica shirt. With a teasing smile to yourself, your body swaying from side to side in a tantalizing shimmy, finding balance with the rhythm of the music.

Come crawling faster Obey your master Your life burns faster Obey your master, master

The sound of your phone ringing brought you back down. "No way he called already!" You dropped the volume of the music before grabbing your phone.

Unknown number

This was too good to be true! And right on time too as the song on the vinyl changed. "Burnin' Up" started to invade your ears. Grinning deviously, that was perfect timing, and you were more than ready to put on a show if Eddie was on the other side of that line.

“Hey there handsome, feeling desperate, are we?” you sultrily cooed.

“Good to know you are a little brat outside of work too.” Eddie’s harsh tone sent a shiver down your back while his words sent a clenching wave through your core.

“Aw, but I just did what you wanted me to do.” You added a quiver to your voice for full effect, “I just wanted to be a good girl for you…”

“Fuck, you can’t just say shit like that baby!” You let out your best teasing laugh.

“Why is that? Am I making you hard?” You questioned innocently, “Are you hard for me right now Eddie?” A strained sound made its way to your ears as you took another gulp of your wine “Am I being a good girl for you now?”

“Good girls don’t tease. Good girls don’t… arg… Good girls listen, and they don’t act like desperate little brats for attention! ‘That why you were acting like a spoiled little princess earlier? Ya wanted all my attention, like the desperate little slut you are.?Well, you have it now baby, so you better make it worth my while” You whimpered at his words, but you didn’t want to give into him – not yet anyway, you wanted to savour this as long as you could.

“Tch, don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need attention from wannabe metal douchebags, thank you very much.” A dark chuckle erupted from the phone.

“Tut, tut, tut. Baby, you can fool yourself all you want. But I can see right through your little spoiled brat display.  Beneath all that though, rocker girl thing you’ve got going on, all you want is for me to put you in your place. Am I right, or am I right?”

Fuck, he was too good at this. Most men you had been with had not really wanted to indulge in this fantasy of yours. Most of them had found it weird, not really understanding that when you were acting like a bitch you didn’t want to have a “conversation to settle our differences” as one of your exes so aptly put it. You snorted - No, what you wanted was for someone to grab you by your hair and spit in your mouth. And then, you wanted to cuddle, eat junk food and listen to music until your ears bled. But that was a bit too much to ask apparently.

“Where did your mind go baby? Am I too much for your little bratty ass?” Eddie teased through the phone.

Suddenly a wave of vulnerability like you’d never really felt before washed over you, making you extremely self-conscious. You felt stupid in your little satin robe, half drunk on wine and desperate for some guy you all but had 10 words with. Your skin was itchy, and you felt too hot like a hand had wrapped itself around your throat and squeezed. Fuck, what was wrong with you? For once, a guy was willing to indulge in your little kinky fantasy and what? You were gonna have a panic attack?! You didn’t even know the guy, why were your nerves on fire, why did it feel like you couldn’t disappoint him? Why were you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to plummet to your death?

Were you afraid of the fall, or were you afraid that no one would be there to catch you?

“… I’m sorry Eddie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You could feel tears gathering in your eyes.

“Fuck, shit.” You could hear Eddie scrambling on the other side of the line, “Did I go too far? Fuck I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Shit I should’ve checked for safe words before, shouldn’t have gone straight into it, it's just you drive me goddam mad honey.” A pause as he seemed to realize what he had just said, “Not like “mad-mad” more like lust-mad or – fuck, I don’t even know what I am saying and I’m rambling, and I probably sound like a complete maniac and…” You let him continue, his unfocused voice making you feel safe and maybe, just a little… understood.  

“s’ok Eddie. It’s me, it's just… I guess I got a bit scared because you know… You just seem a bit too good to be true.” Silence.

“WHAT?! I seem too good to be true?” His voice took on a misbelieving tone, “Have you looked at yourself? You are like the definition of hot!” You chuckled at his words,

 “Nah I am serious babe! Next to “HOT” in the dictionary, there is a photo of your face, I promise you that!”

You felt yourself grow warm under his words, “You’re just saying that…”

“Hey, don’t do that alright,” he counters sternly, his voice so full of certitude and assurance that it fills you with safety. You were so full of his words that you could pop at any moment, “I don’t say shit I don’t mean, never. And look,” a sheepish pause made you hold your breath, “You kinda intimidated me back there, you know. Like your fucking hot, and your witty and then I find out your kinky AF too? I mean, you’re like my dream girl brought to life. I feel like if I pinch myself you’ll disappear, like I made you up or something.”

You release a breath at his words, attempting to regain a modicum of composure you tease, “What like Pygmalion? Am I your Galatea then?”

“Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind…Did I kill the mood?” you ask in a squeaky voice.

In response, Eddie burst into a hearty laugh, “Nah baby you didn’t. It’ll take a lot more than that to scare me away from someone like you… How ‘bout we slow down? Maybe you could tell me what you were doing before I called you up.”

That you could do, "Well, I got back from work all flustered, just had to blow off some steam, you know? Poured myself some wine and put on Killing Machine..." A pronounced groan reached your ears.

“A tad controversial for a so-called metalhead to choose that record—a bit too... mainstream," Eddie quipped, his tone teasing. But your lips curled into an unabashed smile. "Maybe, but I was riding a Burnin' Up vibe, and needed the perfect backdrop. Anyway, a solid album's just that, regardless of how mainstream it might be." you bantered in return.

"Amen to that, baby. But tell true honey, was that all you were doing? Sitting around with music and a glass of wine?" Eddie inquiries with a touch of salaciousness in his tone.

"I might have been dancing... explored a bit beneath my robe—" you teasingly purred.

"Describe it," Eddie suddenly interrupted breathlessly.

" Oh, you want to know what I’m wearing? Is that what you want Eddie?" you replied teasingly.

"Don’t tease baby, be a good girl and describe what you’re wearing.”

You pause for dramatic effect, taking the time to compose your thoughts. "I'm in my black robe, it's all satin with lace, barely grazes below my ass..." you slowly croon, your voice a delicate whisper.

"Damn, keep talking, baby," Eddie's voice urges you, dripping with desire. "It caresses my skin so sensuously, makes me feel so good... Am I doing well?" you inquire, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in your voice.

"Absolutely amazing, baby. Have you touched yourself yet?" he inquires further.

"Just my tits, Eddie. I was kinda hoping you'd give me a call," you shily confess “Are you happy to hear how much I want you?"

"More than you can imagine baby, are you wet for me?” You could almost picture him; he was sitting in a nondescript room, perhaps with some Metallica posters and records strewed about, he’s clenching his teeth as you describe how much you want him, perhaps he took out his cock too. Is he touching himself, you wonder? Because right now, all you want is to dip one of your fingers inside your panty and relieve some of the tension that has been building since before you left for work.

“I’m so wet for you Eddie… I think I’ve been wet since before I left work, that’s how much you affect me. I want to show you that I'm not just a brat; I can behave, I can be your good girl" you say earnestly.

"I know you can be, but let me share a little secret with you, baby." Eddie pauses, and you hold your breath, awaiting his words. "Truth is, I kinda love it when you get all bratty on me..."

At his words, emotions erupted within you—a mélange of lust, desire, joy, and a tad of shyness. Each little butterfly fluttering deep within your belly in a symphony of feelings.

“There’s more of that where it came from,” you sheepishly admit, all too aware of your tendencies to tease and your strong-headedness. You lick your lip, and purr, “Are you hard right now Eddie? Are you as hard for me as I am wet for you?”

“Oh baby, I’m as hard as fucking Andúril right now!” Eddie loudly pants.

“… What did you just say?!” Nervous laughter meets your ear as Eddie stammers,

“No-nothing. It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” With regained confidence, he continues,

“You gonna touch yourself baby? Come on, be a good girl and touch yourself with me.” 

You quickly fumble with your phone as you put it on speaker and lay it next to you on your bed. “I’m in bed…” You shakily exhale.

“Yeah? Me too honey. Now. Touch. Yourself.” His tone left no room for arguing. You could hear a belt unbuckle and a zipper coming undone amidst the rushing of fabric on the other side of the line making you shiver as you imagine him taking his heavy dick in his large hand.  

Slowly you hiked your fingers up your thigh, feeling the goosebumps rise under the trace of your nails. You reach under your robe, and you hiss as your index finger grazes your weeping pussy. “Ohh Eddie, I’m so wet, I’m dripping everywhere.”

“Fuck baby, I want to hear.” Blushing like mad you position your phone next to your dripping pussy before slipping your index inside, the wet squelching of your finger going in and out of your core sending pleasurable shivers down your spine as you imagine Eddie’s reaction on the other side of the line.

You breathlessly moan “You hear that, Eddie? You hear how much my bratty little pussy wants you?!”

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s the most metal music I’ve ever heard. My dick’s so hard right now, I feel like it’s gonna fall off.”

“I want to hear you too.” You frantically demand “Yeah? You want to hear me rub my dick baby? You’re such a perverted little girl!” Eddie didn’t need much convincing and all of the sudden you heard a loud plop, and a loud moan escaping Eddie’s throat. The sounds sending an arrow straight to your warm core; did Eddie just spit on his dick? The wet sound of his hand going up his dick was truly one of the sexiest things you’ve ever heard.   

“I’m close baby…” Eddie admitted between loud moans.

“Already?” you giggle breathlessly.

“Fuck, don’t be a brat now baby. You close too?”

“Mmm-hmm” You hummed “Not close enough.”

“How many fingers, you’ve got in that sweet little pussy baby?” Eddie pants, almost pained.

“Just the one Edd.” “Shit baby, add another one. Can you add another one for me, honey?” His words alone were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“Yes Eddie, Yes I can. Anything for you!” You whisper-shout into your phone.

You dip another finger inside, ripping a loud moan from your throat. You part your finger, frantically spreading your slick all over and making a mess over your sheet.  You curve your index toward you until you reach the spongey spot inside of you that feels oh so good. You rub and rub while your thumb aggressively circles your clit.

“Oh Eddie!! Mmmmm… Fuck, I’m close Ed, I’m so close! I don’t want to come alone!!”

“You won’t baby, you’ll come when I tell you to come. Not before.” Eddie pants into the phone. After what feels like forever, you feel the cord that had been steadily building inside of you start to grow taunt, teetering on the edge of snapping in half.

“Eddie… pleasepleaseplease! Please let me come!”

“FUCK! Come for me baby, I’m cumming!” His words send you over the edge and you see a white light blinding you as your body grows tense before letting go.

You can hear Eddie’s panting on the other side of the line while you try to catch your breath. Now sticky and half-naked with your robe open, you feel a wave of shyness overtake you.

“Eddie? Are you… Are you ok?” A loud laugh meets your ear.

“Am I ok, Baby? Pretty sure the Milky Way just exploded in my room. Damn, that was the hottest thing ever!!” You shyly chuckled at his sweet words.

“It wasn’t like… too much or anything?”

“Wait Baby… Was that your first-time having phone sex?” You grew hot and are quick to dispel any ideas he might get “No, not at all. But…” you hesitate, “But it’s the first time anyone ever made me feel like that before.”

“What? Orgasmic?” Eddie teases.

“Shut up!” You laugh before your traitorous vulnerable heart plants himself down your throat, “I meant like safe; you know. Like you wouldn’t make fun of me or like you actually wanted to hear me come. Like I really mattered for a minute and it wasn’t just about your dick.”

Eddie’s voice grew soft at your words “Baby, there is nothing that I would love more than hearing you come every day, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. If you let me, I’d put it on a CD and listen to it on repeat.”

“You mean that?”

“With ever fibers of my being baby.” Eddie answers honestly. You can hear the truthfulness and the transparency in his voice. makes you feel better, and perhaps a little bolder, as you ask, "Does that mean you'd like to see me in real life again and not just when I have to serve coffee?" When Eddie doesn’t answer for a second you feel your heart drop down like a lead balloon.

"Or not," you chuckle, "I didn't mean to sound conceited. It's fine if you don't wan—"

Eddie cuts you off, "I'd love to, baby."

"You would?" you ask, your voice tainted with disbelief.

"I didn't mean to sound so unenthusiastic. It's just that I'm not used to having such a pretty girl proposition me like that. Had to pinch my ass to make sure it was real, ya know."

You laugh as your hand nervously toys with the lace of your robe. "So when would you like to see me?"

"How about tomorrow? Pancakes for dinner, and then if you want, I have a show with my band in town. You could come with."

"Yeah? You want to see me tomorrow?"

"Nothing else I'd rather do."

"There's nothing else I'd rather do either, Eddie."

“Then it’s a date… Be ready 'cause I’m gonna rock your world Baby!”

You giggle at his words “Can’t wait Eddie.” You look around you, with thighs still sticky with your pleasure—yeah, you really couldn't wait to see your rockstar again.

Next chapter

[killmongerskeepermain]

Night Terrors // Shuri

Summary/Request: hello ! i’m so happy that shuri has been getting a lot of love these days and more shuri/reader fics are coming in ! i have an idea in mind; after the events of talokan’s ambush and the death of the queen, shuri told the dora to escort her girlfriend ( the reader ) to the palace and she has to live in the palace w/ her from that moment. shuri and the reader has been dating for a while but the reader lived in her own house until shuri’s order. during one night, shuri woke up from her nightmares and the reader got woken up too so she comforted shuri. can you make it happen for me ? thank you !

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warning: PTSD // Fluff // Shuri is a sad babe // I’m here snookums

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR SOOO LONG!!! I kept thinking I posted this. So I apologize to the anon who requested this!

You stood on your balcony with your hands resting on your hips. Today was a slow one. Wakanda was slowly beginning to thrive again. A lot has happened over the course of a week. Namor attacked, Wakanda lost its queen, and Shuri became the black panther. There was so much change that everyone had to endure. Thankfully, Namor agreed to an alliance but on Wakanda’s terms. You found yourself thinking of Shuri. So much has been taken from her in so little time. Before his passing, T'Challa had asked you to live in Wakanda. For Shuri’s sake, as he knew he only had little time left. You thought back to when the two of you were alone, and you witnessed her break for the first time. She went on about how she couldn’t do more. To save them. You held her in your arms, whispering words of encouragement and praise while she cried. You bit your lip at the memory and shook it away as you walked back inside. 

Looking around you still have papers everywhere. A couple of clothes and your rug had bad water damage. 

“Okay.” You decided to clean up your small home to waste time before you went to the palace to see Shuri. You’ve made sure to check up on her everyday since her breakdown. Once your living room finally looked decent you turned to look at the ruined rug and sighed.

“I’ll have to add a rug to my shopping list.” You moved to roll the rug up before attempting to pick it up. The water left in it made it heavier than it looked. “Damn it.” You opted to drag the blasted thing out the door. Unbeknownst to you, there would be a body there. You nearly jumped out of your skin but relaxed when you noticed it was Ayo. 

“You cannot be doing that Ayo!” You shouted and she snickered.

“Good morning Y/N.” You looked behind her to see 2 more Dora Milaje behind her. You held your chest as you threw the rug.

“You guys want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” You offered and the woman shook her head.

“No thank you. But appreciate the offer. We are here on orders from the princess.” She told you and your head perked up.

“Is she okay? What’s going on?” Ayo grabbed your hand and nodded. 

“She has sent us to retrieve you. You’ve been summoned to the palace. On important business.” She told you softly and you nodded. “Yeah. Okay just let me get my notebook.” The Dora Milaje wasted no time escorting you to the palace, where Shuri was already waiting. She wasted no time to wrap her arms around you as you held onto her. 

“Everything alright? What’s going on?” You were confused until her shoulder slightly shook. “Hey, Shuri, let’s go up to your room okay. There you can tell me what’s going on.” You practically had to drag her there and sit her down on the bed. “Talk to me love. What bothers you?" 

"I need you. Here in the palace. With me. After what happened to my mother, you’re all I have left. I can’t sleep alone anymore.” She mumbled and you took her face into your hands. 

“Okay. I’ll stay here with you. Now come here.” You pulled her on top of you as she laid her head on your chest. You stayed that way until the two of you got up for a shower. There you took her mind off of everything and pleased her the way she deserved. You luckily already had some clothes in her room so when you got dressed you waited for her to come out. You had heard a couple of sniffles and you realized just how bad she needed you. When she came out her eyes were wide as if expecting you to be gone. 

“Will you stay with me sthandwa?” She asked softly and you reached out for her hand. You held her hand before placing a kiss on every knuckle. 

“I will stay with you my love. I’m not going anywhere.” You said and she fell into you. The two of you laid in bed talking about sweet nothings until you drifted off into slumber. You were woken up by erratic movements coming from Shuri’s side of the bed. Sitting up ready to question her, your eyes focused on the woman’s brow and she seemed to be having a nightmare. Her hands fisted the sheets as she fought off whatever her mind was projecting and you lightly tapped her shoulder. 

“Shuri. Baby wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” You said in a hushed voice, not trying to scare her. You turned on the lamp next to your bed and leaned over her brushing the back of your hand down her cheek. She was shivering and you knew you had to wake her or she could hurt herself.

“Mama.” She muttered and you felt your heart clench. You knew this would not be easy for her. 

“Usana. It’s me. I need you to hear me. It’s time to wake up.” You rubbed her arms and noticed she let go of the sheets while you comforted her.

“My love. Wake up.” You mumbled and her eyes snapped open as she shot up in a cold sweat. She looked around the room praying the horror of what plagued her dreams didn’t follow her. She caught her breath before her eyes landed on your worried form. She put her head in her hands, mumbling to herself while you rubbed her back. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her lip quivered and you took the initiative to grab her chin, gently turning her to face you.

“Now what are you apologizing for? You have every right to have these nightmares. You’ve been through alot and have been struck with grief.” You told her with a smile. “Is that why you wanted me to stay here with you?” Her nod was the only reply you got as you ran a hand through her hair. Before traveling down past her stomach to her hip. 

“I told you I’d be here as long as you need me, my love. That won’t change. Not now. Not ever.” You told her as she stared at you with admiration swimming in her eyes. You pecked her lips softly and you held the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. Your tongue poked at her lips and she opened her mouth for you to explore. When you pulled away to take a breath, you brushed her curls away from her eyes and gave her a genuine smile. “I love you.” You pecked her lips again. “So much.” And again. You kissed her tears away and she held you tightly as if you would disappear. “If you want we can stay up and talk about it. If not, I can hold you while you sleep.”

“What would I do without you my love?” For the first time today Shuri felt as if her world was molding back together. It will be a challenge but with you by her side, she’s willing to fight.