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delfiore · 9 months

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #wwc23 #spain wnt #man united women

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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in the early morning

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: All Ages Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: none Author's Notes: I am dedicating this specifically to @yeyinde who is so graciously assisting my poor American ass with basic UK knowledge, and to @guyfieriii who I've had so much fun talking about Professor Price with and has thus inspired me to play with my own AU. Thus, I present: Neighbors AU! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

You’re about to knock again when your neighbor finally answers the door.

It’s the last place, time, and chore you want to be involved in—nearly 6am, looking to register a noise complaint with a man you’ve never met, shivering in flannel pajamas and bundled into two coats on his stoop.

The landlady Mrs. Walmsley had pitched for your flat hard on the basis of this mystery neighbor being absent for months at a time.

“He’s SAS, dear,” she’d said in that little nasally voice. Her eyes had been excitedly wide behind thick, round glasses. “A captain. They have him going all over the world, so it’ll be quiet as the countryside here at home.”

Evidently not.

The world is still swaying a little, indignant on behalf of your interrupted REM, as the door swings open before your knuckles can connect. Then you’re sure you’ve fallen back to sleep, because in the doorway stands a tall, handsome, shirtless man with a bowl of cereal cupped in one very large hand.

You’re not sure where to look, but your gaze has not waited for your brain’s directive, because you take in a trim, sturdy waist, full pectorals, and thick, strong arms all dusted in a pretty composition of dark hair before thinking to actually look the man in the eye.

Oh. Equally disconcerting. He has a kind, lined face, a dark beard and soft blue eyes that are focused directly on you.

Whatever words you had half-planned to say flee like birds startled away from a park bench. You think, SAS. Captain. Couldn’t Mrs. Walmsley have mentioned even once that he looks like an honest-to-god movie star?

You must look like you’re staring into the headlights of an oncoming car, because the SAS Captain’s dark brows crease in the middle. “You alright, love?”

You blink. “Um.” Goodness, no man’s voice deserved to sound that sultry so early. Or did it sound that way because it’s so early? “I, um.”

He tilts his head, listening. You have to rub your eyes so you can stop looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, noting the dumb, drowsy slur of your thus-unused voice. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

“Not a bother at all,” says the Captain. “What can I do for you?”

This is going somehow far better, and simultaneously much worse, than you could have imagined.

“It’s,” you try, peeking at him as you reluctantly lower your hands from your face, “it’s the telly. Or the music. I—you’ve got something playing, and I don’t mean to be a pest, but it woke me up, and—”

His brows shoot up his forehead, and you can see realization bloom across his expression. “And it’s loud, isn’t it?”

Before you can nod, he steps away from the door, and you can see him retreat into the living area to retrieve a remote. He points it at something, his long, muscled arm outstretched, and the noise, which you had failed to even notice once he’d opened the door, instantly silences.

He comes back to the door. “Better?”

You blink. You try very hard not to stare at his chest, which is pebbling with goosebumps in the morning cold. “Uh—yes, that should be alright. Thank you.”

“No trouble,” says the Captain, stirring his cereal without looking at it, blue eyes once again directly on you. “I’m sorry, didn’t know someone had moved in.”

“Just a month ago,” you admit. And you introduce yourself, because even half-asleep your manners haven’t completely fled you.

The Captain nods. “That explains it. I’ve been out of the country. I’m John Price. You can just call me John.”

Out of the country. SAS. Captain. Strong arms, and soft blue eyes. Suddenly you feel very small, shivering on this man’s—John Price’s—front doorstep, bundled up like you’ve never experienced a cold day in your life, while he stands there half-naked and not even blinking at the bite of 4C.

“Well,” you say, trying to remember how conversation worked, “welcome home?”

John Price smiles at you, then, and you’re struck even in your drowsy state by it. It’s a sad smile trying its best to be happy.

“Thank you,” he says. And by the way he’s looking at you, blue eyes gone even softer than before, you think he’s appreciated your half-hearted pleasantry far more than it deserves.

“Well, um.” You flounder. When you stepped up to the door, your only intention had been to make this as quick as possible, wanting to return to the warmth of your bed underneath six blankets as fast as you could manage.

Now—okay, you still want to get back into bed. But Captain John Price (still shirtless) seems in no rush to hurry you away, and it isn’t every day that a mysterious, dashing soldier trains his attention solely upon you.

The still-asleep part of your brain wonders shamelessly if he’d be as warm as those blankets if you touched his bare skin. You strangle the thought immediately.

“I don’t know if you know Mrs. Walmsley,” you say, “but she had some quite nice things to say about you.”

Captain John Price smiles again, and it’s a little less sad and a little more amused. “Did they have to do specifically with my absence?”

SAS. It’s only six in the morning. The lying part of your brain is still asleep, if it would even be any use here. “It came up? Sorry?”

He doesn’t laugh, but the huff that comes out of him resembles it enough that you know he’s not offended. “Don’t be. Seems like she has trouble keeping the place lived in as it is. Think you’re the first one who’s actually talked to me.”

“That’s a shame!” you say in earnest.

But John Price shrugs. “I can’t imagine they would’ve enjoyed talking to me too much. Career soldiers aren’t all that interesting—I should know, I spend most of my time around them.”

“Well, I think you seem very nice,” you insist, and despite the morning’s rude awakening, you’re being entirely truthful.

John opens his mouth to reply, but a cold wind chooses that exact moment to blow, and you are not able to suppress a full body shiver as it hits. You tug your coats more tightly around your body, tucking your hands into your sleeves.

John frowns. “Not nice enough to send you back inside where it’s warm, clearly.” He sets the cereal bowl out of view and crosses his arms loosely across his bare chest. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“Me?!” you exclaim, astonished, face warming. “You’re wearing less than I am!”

“I’ll be fine,” says John. “I hate to think I’ve kept you out here suffering. Please, I appreciate the conversation, but you don’t need to indulge me.”

But you want to, you find, and very badly. You want to stay in this man’s soft blue gaze, listen to his rumbling voice, even if you stop being able to feel your own body from the cold. There’s something about Captain John Price that’s unusually compelling (helped by the absence of a shirt), and you feel in that moment a little like you’re brushing up against someone more important than someone like you will ever be.

But you recognize a polite dismissal when you hear it, too.

“If anything, I’ve been the one keeping you,” you say, smiling apologetically. “But it’s been very nice to meet you, John.”

He smiles at you again, and it’s the same one from before—sad, trying to be happy. He says your name, and it sounds better than it has ever sounded, wrapped in the rough baritone of his voice. “Pleasure to meet you too. Truly.”

You smile back, and leave his doorstep. You’re not sure now how you’re going to fall back to sleep now.

You’re twisting the handle of your front door when suddenly John calls your name. When you turn to look at him, he’s leaning a little out of his doorway, balancing himself with a hand on the inside of its frame.

“If I ever get to noisy for your liking,” he says, “just knock on the wall, and I’ll bring it down, aye?”

“Okay!” you reply. “And you too, yeah? I don’t want to bother you, either!”

“I don’t imagine you could,” John says, giving you another amused huff, “but sure.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you wave, and escape inside.

#cod x reader #cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod:mw2 #cod imagine #cod mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #john price x you #john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #price x reader #og post #neighbors au

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straykeedz · 7 months

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day 14: felix + thigh riding

©straykeedz

tw: fwb!felix; protected piv sex; felix slaps your ass twice; dirty talk; begging, kinda???; female orgasm; ♡

wc: 1,4k (finally something short yay!);

fun fact: i actually wrote this while listening to “i’ll make a man out of you” from the mulan soundtrack for motivation since i was in a rush to post this lol - not proud of today’s kinktober ngl

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☀︎

After he cums, spilling his white release into the thin latex of the condom, he pulls out of you and mutters a series of apologies as he ties a knot in the rubber and throws it in the trash can next to your bed. His reaction makes you smile.

“I’m sorry.”, he repeats for the tenth time, still panting. “You didn’t cum.”, he sounds incredibly guilty.

It’s been a while since you and Felix last met up to have sex, so it’s perfectly normal that he didn’t last super long. Still, Felix feels like a fucking loser because what kind of a fuck buddy is he? Cumming after what felt like a couple of thrusts? Actually, you’d been going at it for about ten minutes when his orgasm washed all over him suddenly, and you started to feel the familiar sensation building up in your stomach, so it’s not as bad as Felix thinks.

Still - he feels terrible about it.

“Felix, relax.”, you giggle, running one hand through his dark hair. “It’s not the end of the world.”, you reassure him. “Plus, it kinda flatters me, in a way. It means you like having sex with me.”

Felix’s head is still spinning from the intensity of his orgasm. “I love having sex with you.”, he can’t believe you’re doubting that when actually - he’d been hard since this morning, when you texted him saying you had a day off, finally, asking him if he could come over. He practically teleported to your place. “You’re the best sex I ever had.”

And Lee Felix has had a lot of sex.

He wasn’t even sure he could actually do this friends-with-benefits thing, because he just loved having sex, and being exclusive was not something he thought he could be interested in. You made him change his mind without even trying, honestly.

“Wait until I’m ready to go again and I’ll show you how much I love having sex with you.”, he says, biting his lip seductively. His body still feels kinda jelly - otherwise he’d offer to eat you out or at least finger you, but he literally can’t feel his limbs right now. He hates that stupid refractory period.

“Or…”, you start, licking your lips, looking at him like he’s your next prey. He loves it when you give him that look - it means you have something in mind, and that he’s in for something good, hopefully. “You know, you have thighs…”, you say vaguely, running the pad of your index up and down his left thigh - all the way to his knee and then back to his hip.

“Baby, you’re asking if you can ride my thigh?”

“Mh-hm.”, you blush a little.

You haven’t done it before - neither with Felix nor with any of your other partners, but your friend told you she’d tried it with her girlfriend and that it felt amazing. Needless to say, you’re curious to try it out and see if it’s as mind-blowing as she said.

“If I ever answer negatively to that question - you’re allowed to kick me in the crotch.” Felix chuckles. “Hop on.”, he instructs. “Have you done this before?”, he asks, noticing you seem a little taken aback.

You shake your head as a no and lower your gaze, embarrassed. Now, it’s as if all he confidence you had in your body had suddenly vanished.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you what to do.”, he smiles - a smiles that makes you relax instantly, because you trust Felix entirely.

He sits on the mattress, figuring it’d be more comfortable for you, resting his back against the headboard and spreads his legs wide enough. Then, he pats his thigh, motioning for you to come and sit on it. Before you could actually place your naked crotch on top of him, tho, he asks -

“Wait, baby, are you wet enough?”

Without waiting for an answer, he brings two fingers to your slit to check if you’re lubricated sufficiently, knowing it’ll be unpleasant if you aren’t. You’re wet, that much he’s sure of, but he reckons it may not be enough, so he brings his fingers to his mouth to coat the pads in his spit before rubbing them all over your pussy - on your clit in particular, until you’re fully drenched in a delicious mixture of your own arousal and his saliva.

“Now sit on my thigh, baby.”, he instructs, looking you in the eye.

You nod, and then place your bare pussy on top of his thigh. The contact makes you wince due to the sensitivity of your clit, but it’s not unpleasant - the opposite, actually. It feels foreign - it’s nothing like Felix’s fingers or yours, but it feels good.

Felix’s hands end up gripping your waist not too tightly, just to help you with your balance and your movements, you guess. Or maybe, he just loves having his hands on you. It’s both. “Tell me when you’re ready.”, he whispers, piercing black eyes staring into yours.

You give him a small nod. “Ready.”

You let out a whimper as soon as Felix’s hand help you move your body against his thigh, grinding your clit back and forth on his toned quadriceps - he has his muscles flexed, and it feels amazing. You soon find out that riding a thigh is entirely different than riding a cock, and you do feel empty, but you can’t bring yourself to care, especially not with the way Felix’s helping you grind your clit back and forth against his skin, getting you all worked up to the point you can feel your orgasm starting to build up.

“You look so sexy, fucking yourself on my thigh.” Felix mutters, biting his lip, still looking you in the eye. Then, he lands a slap on your asscheek, making you moan and grind harder on his thigh, clit already beginning to twitch due to the sensitivity.

You pick up the pace of your movements - Felix’s hands still guiding your movements on his body. “How does it feel, baby? Better than my cock?” Felix asks, knowing damn well the answer to his question is no.

“Nothing feels better than your cock.”, you moan, blushing a little.

“My fingers, then?”

You shake your head as a no, not even thinking about stopping your movements, not when you’re so close to your release - your long yearned orgasm right around the corner, you can almost feel it. Felix slaps your ass once again, squeezing the soft flesh.

“Mhh, great.”, he lets out a deep chuckle that vibrates in his chest. “Maybe I should use this as a punishment, then. For when you misbehave.”

The thought of Felix punishing you is enough to make your pussy practically drool - vivid memories of what happened between his bedsheets the last time running back and forth in your mind. It’s all so intense your legs begin to tremble. You’re close, so close.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum.” Felix threatens, eyes thin as his grip on your hip and ass tightens.

No. He wouldn’t dare… would he?

“Pease, please let me cum.”, you beg, and he chuckles, satisfied. Then, he helps you moving faster and faster on his thigh. “I’ve been so good to you. I always am, please.”

It’s true, you’re always good to him. And Felix wouldn’t ever deny you an orgasm - ever. But he’ll let you believe that.

“Then cum.” Felix whispers, staring in your eyes, biting his lip - honestly, you could cum just from the sight of him sitting in front of you, completely naked, a few locks of hair falling on his delicate features. “Cum for me, cum on my thigh, baby.”

It’s enough to make your orgasm wash over you. You release on his thigh, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and kicking your head back - losing yourself in the intense feeling, familiar yet entirely new at the same time as whimpers and swear words fall from your lips. Your legs start to shake and you halt your movements, not wanting to overstimulate yourself - you have something else in mind.

You let your body fall on Felix’s - resting your head on his naked chest as you try to regain your breath. Felix wraps his arms around you, drawing imaginary shapes on your lower back with his fingers. “Felt good?”, he mutters, resting his chin on top of your head.

You nod. “More than good.”, you pull away from his body, sitting on the mattress as well, and you can’t help but notice a wet patch on Felix’s thigh. For some reason, it makes you blush and you look away - your gaze ending on Felix’s face, looking him in the eyes.

“Good.” Felix smirks, looking down between his legs, and your gaze follows his. His cock is impossibly hard, resting on his abdomen, looking absolutely impressive. “Now it’s time to make you cum on my cock.”

☀︎

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mylovelies-docx · 11 months

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 1

Here we go! I have it planned that I will be updating this story on Fridays, so yay! I have 10 parts set out as of now, but we'll see where this story takes me.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, ANGST, unrequited feelings, lots more to come!

Word Count: 1,200

Prologue

You were right to doubt Natasha's words.

Waking up next to Bucky just gets harder and harder as time goes on. Listening to his soft murmurs and heavy sighs, the feel of his bare skin against yours. Every time you find yourself between his sheets, you resent him a little. But it’s not his fault, it’s yours. Every time.

Because you know that if you ever take that one crucial step towards him, you’ll lose him. Lose this closeness, this connection.

So you don’t take that step. You haven’t opened up and told him how you feel for months now. And it drives a knife into your heart with every second that passes where you don’t confess.

Every time you sneak away from parties to some hidden room for a quick fuck, or when he’s pounding into you under a street light on some deserted road with your leg hiked over his motorcycle at 3 am, you can’t help but imagine that all this passion has to mean something to him. Like it means something to you.

So you test it.

You invite him on adventures between missions, visiting museums and parks and 24/7 diners that you know are perfect date spots. He always readily agrees to hang out and stays with you the whole time, his arm slung over your shoulders while he laughs in your ear.

Spending time with Bucky like this leaves you effervescent. You always leave his arms smiling like a fool – because that’s what you are.

Because these movie tickets are just an excuse, really.

Bucky’s been so busy these last couple of weeks that you’ve hardly seen him, let alone spent any "quality" time with him. You’re currently on your longest dry spell you’ve ever had with him, and the lack of contact leaves you delusional.

Delusional enough to do something stupid.

Delusional enough to tell Bucky how you feel.

The air is cold as you and Bucky stroll from the movie theater, your heart buzzing in your chest as you contemplate how best to approach the topic. Bucky gives you the perfect opportunity with his next sentence.

“Damn, dollface, forgot how much fun it was to hang out with you. Feels like it’s been ages.”

“We could always hang out more,” you respond coyly, taking his hand and curling yourself against his side. You don’t think you can look him in the eyes while you confess to him.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says, and you can’t hold back your next words.

“We could go on a real date sometime.”

You feel a nearly imperceptible jolt in Bucky’s muscles, and his voice is slightly bemused when he replies. “What?”

There’s confusion behind the words, but you hope against hope that it’s because he’s thinking your suggestion through.

“Well, I mean, we’ve already kind of been going on dates and doing other things that couples do? It wouldn’t be so hard to just make it more concrete, you know?” Your words squeeze around the lump in your throat, your insides shivering in desperation.

Bucky stops in his tracks and pulls you off to the side of the street out of other people’s way. He turns you to face him, his palms resting on your shoulders, his blue eyes searching your face for any sign of the joke you must surely be playing. Because you’ve talked about this. He was very clear. And you had agreed all those months ago – agreed that it was just sex. Agreed that neither of you had any romantic feelings for the other.

“Uh, doll? What are you…?”

Your cheeks burn and your fingers tingle. Your heart can’t handle being scrutinized so intensely at this moment. You avert your eyes to where you’re scuffing your shoe back and forth, back and forth, across the pavement.

“I’m saying… I–I like you, Bucky.” Heart in youth throat, you finally look back into his eyes when you say his name.

But his expression as he looks back at you isn’t the one you were wanting to see. Bucky looks panicked. Like you’ve just told him that you’re holding a bomb that’s set to detonate in seconds.

“Jesus,” Bucky says your name in exasperation as he removes his hands from your arms and runs them through his long hair, “why would you–”

Fuck.

You quickly back-pedal, trying to keep the panic out of your voice while scrambling to pick your bleeding heart off the dirty sidewalk.

“No, no, no. Wait, Bucky. Listen. I know we’ve talked about this before and you said you weren’t looking for anything serious.” Your hands are flying all over the place as you try and explain away your feelings. “But we’ve been hanging out a lot and maybe I just got the wrong idea–”

“Yeah. You did,” Bucky interjects, sending a dagger into the mess of an organ clutched desperately between your hands. “It’s flattering and all, but… you know I’m not interested in you like that.”

You’re successfully holding back tears against the burning in your eyes, but the need to release all the pain you’re feeling is overwhelming. You wrap one arm protectively around yourself and grab on to your other bicep, squeezing hard to feel the physical hurt instead of the emotional.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I’m – I just thought I should be honest? But, seriously, don’t even worry about it.” You hold your hands up in a placating gesture and give as convincing a smile as possible. “This won’t change anything, I promise. And besides, I’ll get over it soon enough!”

Bucky gives you a skeptical look, but nods his head slowly. “So… we’re taking sex off the table, obviously.”

You give a breathy laugh and try to roll your eyes playfully. “Probably not the best idea at the moment,” you respond.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, “probably not.”

You both stand in awkward silence, not really looking at each other. You can only stand it for so long until you casually throw a thumb over your shoulder and suggest heading back home.

It’s a long, long ride back on his motorcycle. But at least the wind lashing your face gives you an excuse for the tears that fall.

***

You make it to your floor without seeing another person, but your luck runs out when you find Nat and Wanda watching a movie together in your bed. The sight of your two best friends smiling warmly at your entrance shatters the last of your strength.

You can’t stop the hiccuping sob that leaves your throat – it refuses to be held back any longer. Both women’s eyes widen and they immediately start to sit up, but you’ve collapsed on top of the covers between them before they could move. You can feel Wanda’s fingers in your hair and Nat’s hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulders.

Your sobs eventually turn into sniffles, and that’s when Wanda speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You take a shuddering breath in before saying, “I was stupid.”

“What–” Wanda begins, but Natasha immediately knows what you mean.

“Fuck.” She sighs heavily and leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #captain america #Sorry

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months

Text

New in Town - Ch. 7: First Double Date

You and Joel go out with Tommy and Maria. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I swear to God Joel, if you make fun of me…”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Beautiful.”

“Oh you say that now.”

“I’m really not,” he laughed a little.

“I did like… research and shit,” you said from the other side of your bathroom door. “I Googled, OK?”

“I’m sure you look incredible,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Just come out here.”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

You knew you shouldn’t be nervous with Joel and, usually, you weren’t. But this felt a little different. You opened the bathroom door and came into your bedroom, doing a little spin as you did to show him both sides of the outfit. His face shifted from a smile to something almost hungry as he looked you up and down from his spot on the edge of your bed. He checked his watch.

“What?” You frowned.

“Just seein’ how much time we have until Tommy and Maria get here,” he said, looking back at you. “Think if we’re quick and leave that little skirt on…”

You laughed and all but jumped on his lap, kissing him.

You were going on your first double date with Joel, with his brother and sister-in-law of all people. You’d met Tommy and Maria at Sarah’s cookout a few weeks earlier but hadn’t seen them since. You had, however, heard plenty about them since then. Especially after Joel told you that his brother knew about the two of you.

Your eyes had gone wide when he’d told you that.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him quite yet?” You asked. “We haven’t told Sarah and they’re pretty close…”

“Yeah, I didn’t… uh…” Joel awkwardly cupped the back of his neck. “Didn’t exactly… tell him.”

You frowned.

“What do you…”

“Maria… might have heard us in the bathroom at the cookout.”

“What!” You yelped, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD, Joel!”

“It’s fine…”

You groaned and collapsed all the way down onto his couch, burying your face in the arm of it.

“They must think I’m some kind of ridiculous slut!” Your voice was muffled by the cushion. “This is mortifying…”

“It’s really not that bad,” he rubbed your thigh soothingly. “Really. They like you! A lot! And they kept sayin’ they’d never seen me this happy. Honestly, Tommy was just happy to see me with someone I wanted to fuck in a bathroom.”

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned. “Well, it’s been great, Joel, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to change my name and move to Antarctica…”

He laughed and tugged you over until your head was on his shoulder instead of the couch.

“Sounds cold,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll have to find a coat.”

If you’d been falling for Joel before, you’d fully fallen for him over the past two weeks, ever since he’d found out everything about your childhood and your dad.

You’d almost expected him to look for an out once it all settled in. That, when all the baggage had been sitting there for long enough for him to take inventory of it all, he’d run.

But he hadn’t. He’d done the opposite. He spent that weekend holed up with you. Making you dinner, holding you close while watching Sharknado, changing the locks on your front door and installing a doorbell camera so you could see if he stopped by. He dropped you off at work Monday morning and picked you up that afternoon, heading straight to a car dealership after handing you a small pile of print outs. You frowned, looking at them.

“What…”

“So I took what I was asking you about cars over the weekend and found some good options for you,” he said. “Four of ‘em are at one dealership so I figured we could start there unless these are really not what you’re lookin’ for…”

You flipped through the pages, all cars that were makes and models you were already thinking about wanting to look at, just tracked down at places around you instead of an abstract thought in your head.

You teared up, a hand covering your mouth.

Joel frowned.

“We don’t have to do this today,” he said. “I don’t mind drivin’ you for a bit, happy to do it if you need a little more time or just aren’t up for it or…”

“No one’s ever done something like this for me,” you dabbed at the corners of your eyes, trying to keep the tears from actually falling and ruining your mascara.

“Told you I’ve got you, Beautiful,” Joel said. “Meant it.”

You ended up buying a car Tuesday, Joel not a fan of how the salesman you talked to at the first dealership seemed incapable of talking directly to you and instead looked at Joel when answering all your questions.

“That’s just how it is,” you shrugged as you headed back to his truck.

“Don’t matter,” Joel said, opening your door for you. “It’s bullshit. We can always come back if we come up empty but you shouldn’t give your money to that jackass.”

The second dealership had a saleswoman who would actually talk to you and not your boyfriend - boyfriend? - and ended up getting you a car with even nicer features than the one your dad had totaled for about the same price. You dropped Joel’s truck at your place and you drove the two of you to a restaurant you’d found on a local food blog, running your hand over the dashboard when at red lights.

“Happy with the car?” Joel asked, smiling almost proudly. It was one of the cars he’d found and printed the information on.

“It’s perfect,” you beamed at him. “Thank you so much for just… everything the past few days. This is the best I’ve ever felt after a visit from my dad.”

You were feeling pretty good on Wednesday when you got a Nest alert on your phone. Your dad was standing at your front door, trying the key he still had. You took a screenshot and texted Joel.

“Guess who,” you wrote. “Glad you changed the locks.”

He replied almost immediately.

“I’m staying over,” he said. “Got his parole officer’s number?”

When your dad came by that night and actually rang the bell, you stayed just out of sight, watching the reflection of what happened in a mirror on your entry way wall as Joel answered the door.

“Oh,” he said when he saw Joel. “I’m sorry, I must have misremembered the apartment…”

“You didn’t,” Joel said, his voice cold. “Know exactly who you are. You’re not welcome here. Come by again and I’m calling the cops and you’d better hope they get their hands on you before I do. She’s blocked your number.” He handed your dad a business card. “If it’s an emergency, you can call me but you’re stayin’ the fuck away from her. You had your chance, you blew it. Now go, before I make you go.”

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what my daughter’s told you…”

“I’m her boyfriend,” he snapped. “And she’s told me plenty. Was probably nicer than you deserved about it, too, knowing her. Last chance to leave on your own.”

Your dad was silent for a moment.

“Take care of her?” He said quietly.

“I will,” Joel said, tone softer. “Do a better job of it than you did.”

“Good,” he said. “Tell her bye for me.”

Joel closed the door and the second you could reach him you threw your arms around his neck, pressing your whole body against him. You kissed him, hard and frantic, tugging him back toward your bedroom as you did. You all but ripped his clothes off of him as you stripped down yourself, racing to get him inside you, not really able to calm down until he was.

“Fuck, Beautiful,” he groaned, his hands on your thighs as you straddled his hips, his cock deep inside. “What’s this for?”

“Needed you,” you said, dropping your forehead to his as you panted for breath.

You were sure you loved him then. You weren’t sure how to say it yet but you were sure you felt it.

Which is part of why you were really trying for this double date. You were in love with Joel, you wanted to impress his brother and sister-in-law. The two of you hadn’t really talked about it but, ever since he called himself your boyfriend to your father, that’s what he was. And you liked it that way. You wanted him to want to bring you places.

Including University of Texas football games.

Even though you knew fuck all about college football. You’d basically spent your entire college career studying or working, going to sporting events hadn’t been too high on your to do list.

So you’d done some research, looked up what people wore to things like college football games. You decided to go all out and settled on a denim mini-skirt, a v-neck University of Texas shirt, cowboy boots and little orange longhorn temporary tattoos on your cheeks.

“Wonderin’ if we should just cancel on them,” Joel kissed down your neck to your cleavage. “Look too good, don’t want to share you.”

“Yeah, we’re not canceling on your brother so you can get me naked,” you laughed a little. “But you can get me naked later.”

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he nipped at your chin.

Your doorbell rang and Joel groaned, dropping his head to your chest.

“Tommy has always had terrible timing,” he sighed.

You laughed and got off his lap.

“C’mon you horn dog,” you teased. “Let’s go watch the sportsball.”

“One thing first,” he reached under your bed and pulled out a straw cowboy hat. “Thought you might need one of these to complete the look.”

You squealed and grabbed the hat, popping it on your head.

“How long has this been under my bed?” You gaped at him.

He smiled a little.

“Snuck it in the other day,” he said. “You’re a Texan now so you gotta have at least one.”

“I love it!” You looked in the mirror and adjusted it a little. “Thank you!”

You tipped it at him.

“How’s it look?”

He smiled.

“Beautiful. Just… Beautiful.”

Tommy’s truck was loaded down with coolers and a grill, your eyes going a little wide at it all.

“How many people are going to be there?” You asked Joel as you got in the back seat of the truck.

“It’s a tailgate,” he shrugged. “Can never tell.”

“Give Tommy an excuse to drink while grilling for a crowd and he’ll take it,” Maria smiled, twisting around in the front seat to actually face you. “Good to see you again!”

“You too!” You smiled, trying to resist the urge to jump out of the car when you thought about the fact that she heard you going down on Joel.

“I’m excited to have another woman around for this whole thing,” she smiled as Tommy started the truck. “They do this once a year and I swear it’s like they pack a whole season’s worth of football stuff into one day.”

“I keep tellin’ ya, get me season tickets and we’ll spread it out,” Tommy teased.

“You think I want to do this every weekend?” Maria asked, incredulous.

Tommy scoffed.

“Who wouldn’t?”

Maria gave you a look as if to say “See what I deal with?” And you smiled as Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

You helped get the tailgate set up before settling into a folding camp chair with a beer next to Maria, the two of you watching as Joel and Tommy put meat on the grill, serious looks on their faces as they worked.

“So,” Maria smiled, taking a sip of beer. “You and Joel, huh?”

“Me and Joel,” you nodded, smiling a little back. “Not too insane, is it?”

“I mean, the circumstances might be a little odd but otherwise,” she shrugged. “He likes you.”

“I sure hope so,” you laughed, taking a drink of beer yourself and looking out at the crowd that was gathering to tailgate. The truck across from you was setting up a game of cornhole. Someone a few trucks down had started playing country music at top volume. “I’m a little fucked if he doesn’t at this point.”

She laughed, too.

“Look, I’ll be honest,” she said. “I know Joel better than most sisters-in-law probably care to know their brother-in-law. Him and Tommy… You marry one and you get the other, too. Package deal and all that.”

You nodded slowly, watching the two of them work while talking conspiratorially themselves.

“I’ve never, not once, seen him show this kind of interest in anyone,” she continued. “Honestly, Tommy and I figured he’d be single forever. Maybe a date here and there but… It never really seemed like a priority for him. He’s never even mentioned a woman before let alone brought her around.

“You seem to make him happy. Really happy. And I want to support him. But… I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul. That man doesn’t get attached lightly but he’s attached to you. Hell, he had me trying to interpret your texts a few weeks back, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck up…”

You winced.

“I was dealing with some family stuff,” you said. “I should have just talked to him about it from the get go and…”

“Hey, I get it,” she cut you off. “Not like you’d been seeing each other long, I wouldn’t have told some guy I’d just met anything all that personal, either. I just want to make sure you care, that you know he’s not just screwing around with you. Not that he’s said that but I know the guy. Tommy knows the guy. This is a first and I’d rather not watch his heart get stomped on.”

You looked at Joel. He was laughing at something Tommy said, his smile wide and beautiful. You couldn’t help but smile, too. Just looking at the guy made you happy.

“I’m in it,” you said, still watching him. “Trust me, I’m very in it.”

“Good,” Maria said. You thought you could hear the smile on her voice. “Because I really do need another girl around these two, they’re insufferable.”

Once the grill was going, Joel put his arms around your shoulders and led you around the tailgate. Tommy’s set up, you soon realized, was relatively modest. A few people had come with campers and had big TVs set up outside, chairs on rugs out front watching other games from around the country. The two of you stopped and played ladder ball with someone who worked with Joel, him smiling proudly as he introduced you as “his girlfriend,” making your heart soar. You even ran into one of your copywriters as he chugged a beer shirtless with an orange X painted on his chest.

“Oh shit, hey Boss!” He laughed. “Good to see you! Who’s your friend?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you smiled. It was the first time you’d gotten to say that. Joel beamed and the two shook hands. “Joel, this is Steve, one of the copywriters at work.”

“Want a beer?” Steve asked. “I’ll give you two if you promise to forget you saw me like this.”

You laughed back.

“Don’t worry, Steve,” you said. “I’ll be doing my best to forget that, anyway.”

“So not all these people are going to the game?” You asked as you walked slowly back toward Tommy’s truck. Joel’s arm was draped over your shoulders again.

“Nope,” Joel said. “People just come out to party. There’ll be a lot of people around the TVs later.”

“Football is weird,” you scrunched your nose and Joel laughed. “But I’ll still watch it with you.”

“Oh really?” He teased.

“Yup,” you smiled up at him. “But only because you’re hot.”

He laughed.

“Better get in the game time while I can, then.”

When you made it back to the truck, food was ready (“Still got a lot to learn about grilling a great burger, Tommy,” Joel teased his brother, who just rolled his eyes) and you and Joel lost at cornhole to Tommy and Maria.

“Do people really play stuff like that all the time?” You gaped at Tommy after he sent another bag directly into the hole on the opposite board. Yours were scattered on the ground around it.

“We’ve got a set in our backyard,” Tommy said after he punched the air in victory. “You and Joel will just have to practice, don’t know if he can handle me kicking his ass.”

By the time the game started, you’d almost forgotten that you’d come there to watch a football game, having so much fun in the parking lot outside that it seemed like the main attraction.

You tried to mimic how other people reacted to the events on the field, not really understanding any of it but having fun watching Joel have fun. It was about half way through the first quarter when Joel leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” He asked.

You winced. You’d tried to watch some informational videos on YouTube and read some basic explainers of the game over the past week but it was like it was in a different language, you hadn’t been able to absorb any of it.

“Never had anyone to explain it to me as a kid and never hung out with anyone who was into it as an adult,” you replied. “So no, not a damn thing. But it’s still fun!”

“Here,” he put his hand on your waist and pointed toward the lineup of men on the field. “We’re on offense right now, that means we’re trying to score and we’ve got the ball. It’s second and eight…”

Joel kindly, patiently, walked you through the basics, going back over things when he could tell you were confused or had forgotten something when it happened on the field.

“It’s really OK,” you said after a few minutes. “I don’t want you to spend all the time you’re supposed to be having fun talking to me…”

“Talking to you is fun,” he replied. “I’d rather talk to you all the time than watch any game. And I want you to have fun, too. Which I know you won’t if you don’t understand what’s going on because you feel better when you know things.”

You looked up at him, at his warm smile and soft eyes and the one curl that had broken away from the rest to start curving over his forehead, and you couldn’t help it. For a moment, the feeling overwhelmed you and it just spilled out of you before you could stop it.

“I love you,” you said before you realized you said it.

Then your eyes went wide and your face fell and you scrambled to take it back. It was too soon to be saying this to him, you’d only known the man a few weeks and things were still insanely complicated, you’d barely figured out that you were in a full blown relationship let alone ready to bring something like love into the mix. It didn’t matter that you felt it and that you wanted to say it, it wasn’t the right time yet.

“Shit. Ignore that, please ignore that, pretend I didn’t say anything, I don’t want…”

“I love you, too,” he cut you off, smiling so big his whole face lit up with it.

You just blinked at him for a moment.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I do. I really, really do.”

He tipped your hat up and kissed you, his arm sliding around you to pull you flush against his front. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding tight to him, never wanting to stop feeling just like this.

“Look!” Maria patted your shoulder urgently. “You’re on the kiss cam!”

You pulled away from Joel just in time to see yourselves on the giant screen and you laughed, going back to kiss him again.

***

“I’m glad you two seem to have figured your shit out,” Tommy had told him while they set up the grill. “She really does seem great.”

“She is,” Joel said, watching you talk with Maria, looking so damn pretty in your little skirt and boots. “Fuck, she’s incredible.”

“Anyone who can actually get you to feel something is a winner in my book,” Tommy replied, hooking up the propane tank. “Not sure what’s thicker, your skull or the space around your heart.”

Joel laughed but he knew his brother had a point. He hadn’t been in a relationship - a real one - in a very long time. It had been even longer since he’d felt anything close to this for anyone. He’d gone from falling in love with you to just being in love with you and it had happened so quickly it was hard for him to even see it at first.

He’d just known it when your father had shown up at your door that day. Joel knew what he was after - some other way to manipulate you, he was sure - and it made his blood boil. He had to consciously stop himself from hitting the man. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew it would hurt you if he did. But he knew he had to protect you, had to be the one standing in between you and the man who’d done nothing but neglect and harm you your entire life.

His whole body burned with it. He wished he could have gone back in time somehow and protected you then, too. Made it so you didn’t have to go through any of it and stand between you and anyone who had ever so much as looked at you wrong. None of them deserved you. Neither did he, for that matter, but he could at least protect you from the worst of them.

He knew he loved you then. He couldn’t conceive of how anyone could look at you and do anything that would willfully hurt you, how anyone could look at you and see anything but one of the greatest things the world had ever let happen.

But he didn’t want to scare you off, so he kept it to himself, instead just doing everything he could to take care of you, get you to spend some time with him.

It turned out, he didn’t need to try that hard. It seemed like you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

You texted him over lunch on a day you were working from home, a picture of all the makings for mac and cheese and a BluRay of Jupiter Ascending, a movie Joel had heard was laughably bad and he’d been meaning to watch at some point.

“Your place or mine?” You asked.

Joel smiled.

“Wherever you are, Beautiful, I’ll be there.”

You asked to come to his place so you could actually get out of your house for a bit and you showed up not long after Joel had gotten out of the shower, a pan of macaroni and cheese ready to go in the oven and a grocery bag over your arm with all the fixings for Bloody Marys.

“I. Found. Bacon. Vodka,” your eyes were wide and excited. “It’s going to be amazing!”

You were right, it was amazing. Everything with you was amazing.

Because he loved you.

“You told her yet?” Tommy asked as they say next to each other on the gate of his truck during lunch.

“Told who what?” Joel asked, looking down at his phone for the umpteenth time since his lunch break started. You’d texted him a picture of a rather pathetic looking sandwich.

“This food truck’s a bust,” you said. “Feeling very let down. I require real food. Dinner?”

Joel was about to type out a response when you sent a selfie from what had to be a bathroom stall at your office, your shirt unbuttoned an extra button from what it had been when you’d gone your separate ways that morning.

“In case you needed motivation,” you wrote.

“Tell your girlfriend that you’re in love with her,” Tommy said.

Joel frowned and actually looked up from his phone.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t need to say it,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not blind and I might not be a genius but I ain’t that dumb. You’ve got it bad.”

Joel glared at him for a second.

“S’too early,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna scare her off.”

“You’re practically living with this woman,” he said. “She brought steak to your house the other night. Besides the blip, what’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing her since you started dating?”

Joel was happy that, after the mall incident, Tommy was understanding without Joel needing to be too specific about what happened with your father. He’d just told Tommy “It was a tough family thing, makes our shit look like child’s play.” Tommy just said “Damn, poor girl, shit’s rough” and had only ever called it “the blip” from then on.

“Just a work day, really,” Joel said.

“Don’t think it’s too early for shit, man,” Tommy said. “Just don’t fuck it up. And figure out how to tell your kid because I’m shit at keeping secrets.”

Joel sighed and nodded to his brother before texting you back.

“Never need much motivation with you,” he said. “Can’t let you starve on me. Come over, I’ll grill you a burger.”

When you fell asleep naked in his bed that night, he just watched you breathe, wondering how to tell you how he felt and how to tell his daughter that he was head over heels for her best friend.

So when you’d all but blurted it out at him at the game, it was a relief. He’d been terrified it would slip out of him for almost two weeks now. That he’d hand you something, you’d say “thank you” and, instead of “you’re welcome” he’d say “I love you.” That he’d kiss you on the way out the door in the morning and instead of “goodbye” it would be “I love you.” That he’d be looking at your perfect face as you rode him and he’d gasp “I love you” as he came deep inside.

It was a relief to know you felt it, too. It was a relief to say it out loud. It was a relief to feel the sense of security that settled into him at those words, the sense that this wasn’t something that would be easily undone. That this was something he could be safe in feeling, that he could rely on the connection he had with you that had gone from tenuous to vital so fast it made his head spin.

The rest of the game, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were either perched on his leg or standing right in front of him for the rest of the game, his hands on your waist, pressing his lips into your neck and cheek, each kiss just another “I love you” in his mind. He couldn’t even tell you the score by the end of the game, only knowing that UT won because everyone else around them seemed almost as happy as he was.

Joel was eager to say his goodbyes to Tommy and Maria when they dropped the two of you off at your apartment. It’s not like he didn’t always want you - he always wanted you - but it was urgent now, a driving need more than a want.

You, it seemed, were on the same wavelength. The front door was barely closed when you took fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him against you, kissing him deeply as you walked backwards deeper into your home.

He pulled your hat off first, tossing it on your loveseat on the way back to your bedroom. You went from using his shirt to hold him close to tugging it up and over his head as he did the same with yours.

In the bedroom, you turned so he was against the bed as you deftly opened his pants and pushed them and his boxer briefs down and off. You nudged him down onto the bed and looked him in the eyes as you slipped your panties down your legs, leaving on the little miniskirt that Joel had so wanted to fuck you in before the game.

You straddled him, your arms resting on his shoulders, his hands on your back, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as he could. He slowly, almost reverently, removed your bra, cupping your breasts for a moment before holding onto you again. You aligned your entrance with his cock, the head of him just inside of you.

He held your gaze, his nose brushing yours, breathing the same air you were. He looked deep in your eyes as you started sinking onto him, your breath hitching as you did.

“I love you,” he breathed, mouth so close to yours his lips brushed your own when he spoke.

“Joel,” you managed, your body soft and warm against him as you took him into yourself. “I love you, I…”

You gasped as he bottomed out within you and he clutched onto you, needing to be as close to you as he could possibly be.

The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, your skin on his, his cock buried deep within you.

He realized then that he’d never been inside someone he was in love with before you. He’d tried with Sarah’s mother but her resentment kept any real affection from becoming too deep. Everything before her has been for fun, he hadn’t been looking for anything permanent. No relationship had lasted long enough to actually fall for anyone since.

It was an intense thing, knowing you loved him back while being a part of you. You always felt incredible, better than anything or anyone else he’d ever felt, but it was different now and he never wanted to be anywhere but with you.

You took a deep, shaky breath before rising slowly over him. He could feel every inch of you, the tight grip of every ridge, the wet heat of you holding him perfectly inside. He kissed you as you started to ride him, moaning into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your soft skin.

Your skirt bunched around your hips and you ground your clit against him and he relished it, loving the feeling of you finding your pleasure with his body.

He met you stroke for stroke until you came over him with a whimper, kissing him deeper, pussy gushing over his cock.

Joel moved you below him, settling between your thighs, his body still tight to yours for a moment before he separated from you.

“Joel,” you whimpered, breasts heaving. He slid a hand up your stomach, drinking you in, eyes lingering on the place disappeared into you, your sex swollen and slick.

“Want to see you,” he panted, moving his hands to the inside of your knees, slipping them over your thighs until one thumb found your clit and the other slipped around your hip to your lower back, your sexy little skirt pushed up around your waist now. “Want to see you come for me.”

He started driving into you, pulling back almost reluctantly to thrust back as deep as he could reach, watching it move through your body, the ripple of your skin, the bounce of your breasts, the desperate look on your face as he worked your clit, your channel tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he panted as you ground your hips back against him when he thrust deep. “Are you close, Beautiful? That perfect little pussy about to come for me?”

You nodded and moaned, one of your hands flying to the bed and tangling in the blanket.

“Good,” he said, all but breathless. “Need you to come all over me, need to feel you come, need to watch you come. Just let go baby, just come for me.”

He watched your orgasm take hold half a second before he felt it, your face lost in pleasure, your clit throbbing as he felt you come apart around his cock.

Joel fought to hold his own orgasm off for at least moment, wanting to enjoy your pleasure for as long as he could. But he didn’t last long, thrusting deep and all but collapsing on top of you as the peak of your climax triggered his own.

Once he’d come down from his high enough to be able to think, he rolled onto his side and took you with him, still buried deep in you, kissing you gently as he held your face in his hand.

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. “I’ve never really said that to anybody but I love you.”

“I love you,” he said, letting the feeling wash over him as he was so impossibly close to you. “I love you so much.”

As he fell asleep in your bed with you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he’d ever meant anything more.

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH THEY SAID IT!

I just love these two, they're so cute working through their relationship shit. They're getting there, they really are!

Thank you for being here and for following their story. It's been so fun to share with you! Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #joel miller smut #new in town

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wheredafandomat · 1 year

Text

“What’s a DILF?”

Dad! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut

A/N: Just a random little thing I wrote because I haven’t written in ages and had this random idea 😂

“W-what?” You stuttered, brows knitting in confusion at Loki’s question; it had caught you off guard. You turned the tap off after filling the vause before making your way to Loki who then put the bouquet of flowers he had bought you inside.

“What’s a dilf?” He repeated, bewildered by your expression.

“Where did you hear that?” You began to giggle at Loki’s innocence.

“I was picking Ivy up and I overheard her friends saying I was a dilf.” He explained, recalling when he had picked your daughter up from her friend's house the other day.

“What exactly did they say, Loki?” You queried.

“Your dads such a dilf.” He quoted making you laugh harder. “She was clearly embarrassed, I could tell, and I’d hate to think I had done something to warrant her feeling that way. It’s been playing on my mind ever since so I thought I’d ask.” He sighed. “Stop laughing.”

“Oh Loki, she’s definitely embarrassed.” You grinned, placing the vause down before facing Loki again and seeing his saddened expression. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, garnering his attention back.

“What is so funny? What does it mean?” He practically whined, placing his hands on your hips as he looked down at you. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his, silencing his questioning. Breaking the kiss but barely pulling apart, you spoke against his lips.

“A dilf is a dad I’d like to—” you paused, waiting for him to catch on which he eventually did, eyes widening.

“Oh—OH—oh no.” He gasped as you laughed at his horrored expression.

“It’s normal Loki, you’re a good looking guy or dad should I say” you consoled him, running one of your hands through the back of his hair “they’re just teenagers, I remember what it was like being a hormonal teenager. It’s no big deal.” You shrugged.

“No big deal? Ivy must be so emb—” Loki began before you kissed him again.

“Stop worrying.” You insisted. “How about you let me have a ride on the dilf.” You teased, Loki’s hands moving from your waist to the curve of your ass.

“You are naughty.” He finally smiled.

“Well then spank me daddy.” You exhorted before the both of you began to laugh, Loki spinning you before guiding you to the stairs, thankful that Ivy wasn’t due home until a lot later.

“Up those stairs woman!” He ordered, slapping your ass as he followed behind.

Once you reached the bedroom, your lips were gliding across one another’s, hands roaming each other's bodies. Loki rid you of your top, the kiss ending for a brief moment before it resumed. His lips traveled lower, exploring your neck before heading to the valley of your breasts. Intent on a quickie, you guided his head back up so that his lips were on yours again as you unbuttoned his shirt. He let you do that, exciting you before he paused, laying you against the bed. You obliged, helping Loki rid you of your skirt before his lips were roaming your thighs. You widened your legs, half expecting him to fuck you but instead, he pulled your panties to the side before you felt his tongue licking through your folds. It was pleasurable, everything Loki did was pleasurable and yet you sighed inwardly at his incessant need to taste you despite your pleas to just fuck. It turned him on, that was his excuse. You’d be begging for a bit of quick fun and Loki would insist on going down on you. Glancing down, it was evident how much Loki enjoyed it judging by how his hips were grinding down into the bed no doubt trying to alleviate the strain he felt in his trousers. Rolling your eyes, you decided to enjoy the feeling of Loki sucking your pussy whilst he humped the bed.

“Fuckk Loki.” You began to moan, forgetting why you’d even protest against this as his tongue circled your clit. He hummed against you approvingly sending vibrations to ripple through your core. Using one of his fingers, he began pumping in and out of you, tongue still teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves as your hips lifted from the bed slightly.

“You taste so good.” He praised, licking his lips as he looked up at you, eyes hooded in bliss. “Are you going to cum for me?” He cooed, still thrusting in and out of you with his finger.

“Yesss Loki.” You mewled. Instead of replying, a devilish smirk painted his lips before he lowered his head again, sucking your clit gently as he increased his pace until you were a writhing mess, cursing his name as you reached your climax.

You were panting, catching your breath as Loki stood, freeing his cock. He didn’t even bother to take his trousers off before you felt his hand around your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You gasped, your shock turning into a grin as he stroked his length, hungrily eyeing you. Your legs were on either side of his providing him with the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You hooked your thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties before Loki took over, pulling them off of you as you lifted your legs until your ankles were touching his shoulders. You bit your lip feeling Loki’s cock gliding through your folds as he coated himself in your arousal. You eventually angled your hips up, beckoning him inside but he pushed them back down continuing this pleasured torture. It felt good but not enough. You needed him evading you.

“Pleasee Loki” you begged as he entered you slowly with the tip of his cock before pulling out “I need more.”

“Take it then.” He prompted. Dropping your legs back down, you widened them before reaching down between you and guiding his length to your entrance. He pushed inside, both of you moaning as he did so. Before long, he was slamming into you, already leaking precum. A mixture of your arousal trickled out of you, staining his dress pants as they rubbed against your skin with every thrust. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked you, almost doubling over as he approached his orgasm. There were no pleasant words exchanged between you, just a plethora of moans and grunts. You opened the eyes you hadn’t realised were screwed tightly shut to be met by Loki who was baring his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat beading on his forehead as he entered you. This was carnal, both of you chasing your highs as you closed your eyes again, reaching your peak followed along by Loki who thrusted harder a few more times before stilling inside of you.

You both caught your breaths back in silence, blown away by your orgasms. You both always did have great sex but occasionally it left you speechless. This was one of those times. You unclasped your legs from around Loki as he pulled out of you before turning around.

“Wait, what are you doing?” You questioned breathlessly.

“Grabbing a towel.” He answered just as knackered.

“No, I haven’t even had a turn on top yet.” You giggled with a newfound lease of energy.

“Okay.” Loki agreed, trying to bite down his smile as he undone his trousers, stepping out of them before getting into the bed. You kissed him deeply, still tasting yourself on him as he pulled you above him to straddle him. His tongue explored your mouth before you sucked on it feeling his cock harden beneath you. Moments later he was entering you as he helped guide your movements on top of him. This time you were both a lot more vocal.

“Fuck Lokii yesss.” You moaned lewdly, the palms of your hands pressed against his chest.

“You feel so good, so fucking good.” Loki spoke between breaths, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Yesss, daddy, just like thattt.” You almost screamed.

Meanwhile, Ivy followed by her friends had just walked into the house, coming back early to study together.

“Feel free to help yourse—” she began before her eyes widened looking at her friends who were all smiling “OUT! ALL OF US OUT!” She yelled, ushering everyone out before slamming the door.

“See, dilf.” One of them winked, high-fiving the other one.

Random writing because tumblr usually deletes the last few lines of my work so hopefully they delete this instead of my actual work. Randddommmm wordssssss. Yeahhhhhh. Heloooooo. Goodbyeeeee.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #dad loki #dilf Loki #loki x fem!reader

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minkkumaz · 9 months

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DISASTEROLOGY

hyunjin dreamed of you and the things you'd do together, and not one soul knew about it. he finally draws up the courage to show you his intentions

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING hwang hyunjin x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS friends to lovers. lovesick hyunjin. confessions. smooching. slightly angst. fluff. suggestive implications. OMI NOTE i think out of all the members i struggle with writing hyunjin the most. i literally dwelled on this for so long but honestly turned out better than i expected. @skullverse, my ptv twin. this one is for you my schmookum wookums bc ik he's ur fav!!

a single finger traced over hyunjin’s abs, making him take a sharp breath. there were a million different kinds of fun, but that was only a figment of his mind’s eye. when he was tucked in between his sheets, a tainted dream resurfaced every night.

but this wasn’t true, no, it was completely impossible. nobody knew that he dreamt about you, the dates he’d take you on, and the way he’d hold your hand so perfectly that not one person would get a single idea besides ‘they must be together.’

this was his imagination, and when he wasn’t happily rested within it, the world felt like it was at end.

often time’s he’d wake up in a cold sweat. running a hand through his hair to detach the pieces that stuck to his forehead. his shirt clung to his body, lacking the touch of you underneath.

hyunjin sighed, looking over to his blinking alarm clock that had a small sketchbook next to it. you were meant to come over soon to spend some time with him since days like that came rarely. one quick nap later and he was soon reminded of how badly he wanted you, yet couldn’t have you.

it was everything. the way your lips parted slightly when you were confused, how you stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders after he teaches you choreography, or maybe when your hand brushed against his as you walked alongside him.

a low groan of annoyance fell from his lips, moving from his spot on the bed to freshen up in the bathroom. looking in the mirror was only a reminder that today was supposed to be the day he’d say something to you; imply that he wanted so much more than to just be friends.

all he saw was his fear looking back at him. out of every drawing he’s ever made, he could never sketch out a coherent idea of how he fell victim to your spell. so instead he settled with drawing you. just you.

it was now or never, right?

picking up his phone from the charger, he sent you a text to let you know that it was okay to come over. it wouldn’t take very long, as you didn’t live too far. in the meantime, he pushed down these possessive thoughts and cleaned himself up.

the clock felt like it was ticking slower than ever, but that was just a misconception when he heard the gentle knock on his door. thousands of butterflies awoke in his stomach, and he had never been more nervous than in that moment.

he walked over to unlock the door and let you inside. you were cozy in some pajamas, with a jacket hugging your body.

“hyun!” you grin, reaching your arms around him in a hug, enabling his hands to snake around your waist.

“hey, i haven’t seen your face in awhile.” he ruffled your hair gently.

“pff, only because you’re too busy with tour.” you tease him, pulling away to follow back to his bedroom.

“okay maybe i was a little busy! but i have a present for you from when i was on tour.” he tells you, grabbing the sketchbook on his night stand and handing it to you.

“for me?” you flipped it open to see an image of yourself laying prettily on the first page.

every pencil stroke dug into the paper, getting only the finest of details. you lower yourself back on his bed, still admiring the drawing.

“do you like it?” he smiles at you.

“do i like it? i love it oh my gosh!” you bounce slightly on his mattress, giddy with endorphins.

you place the book next to you on the comforter, reaching your hands out to pull him towards you in another embrace. in the midst of this all, he falls against you on the bed.

all you could do was let out quiet giggles with the boy on top of you, his head stuffed in the crook of your neck.

he lifted himself up, leaning up on one of his forearms. his free hand traveled to your face, moving small strands of hair that were blocking your vision. a pink hue played across his cheeks; this position felt too similar to the ones in his imagination.

“i don’t know how you were able to get all those details of me. you even got one of my moles!” you beam from underneath him.

“you’re just on my mind all the time, how could i not?”

“uh huh, you’re too busy being one of the most desired men on the planet.” you joke with him, failing to realize he was being serious. your expression shifts when he doesn’t laugh.

“did you know that i dream about you, y/n?” he says tenderly, grazing his fingertip over your jawline.

“wh– pardon?” you mutter.

“there’s so much i want to tell you, but i don’t want to scare you off.” he looked intimidating, towering over you. but there was so much care in his words that it confused you.

“hyunjin.. you could never scare me off. i value all of my time with you.” you respond calmly, trying to mask your flusteredness.

the line he drew down your face stopped, instead drifting down your neck and across your collarbones. a shiver travelled down your spine.

“are you sure that you mean that, y/n?” his voice was composed sweetly.

“i mean it.”

“whenever i draw you, i think back to these daydreams i have about you. about us. we did so much together, but none of it was real.” he stopped, “it made me second guess things a lot. but i figured that even if the world was ending, shouldn’t we spend the rest of our time in love?”

“i– i don’t know what to say.” you lay below him with a shocked look on your face, but you were far from scared. you were curious.

“don’t say anything. just imagine us, please?” there were undertones of distress in his words.

“i like you, so much. but i don’t want to ruin things between us. i was so terrified.” you confess, biting back a frown.

“you won’t ruin anything, my muse. you’re anything far from poisonous. things will be okay.”

“how will i know for sure?”

hyunjin looks into your glazed eyes, you were looking like you were about to cry. this only made him smile more.

he leaned down closer to you, until he was only inches away from your ear. you could feel every inhale and exhale sliding down the side of your neck.

“you’ll know if you stay. i want to create something beautiful,” he whispers, “then destroy it.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! PIERCE THE VEIL series

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justcallmenikki7 · 9 months

Text

BTS Reaction To: The Purge Night

Mafia!Au-Purge!Au-Split!Au

Summary: experiencing the purge with your mafia boyfriend can go many different ways.

Warnings: killing/murder (obviously, it’s the purge lmao), language, stealing/robbery, slight angst, fluff (haha), suggestive comments, badass y/n, torturing, crack, nonconsensual touching from stranger, split!jungkook, character slapping reader, angst, taehyung being taehyung.

W.C.: 3.9k

Notes: hiiiii! I’m back. My life has been so chaotic and busy ever since I got my second job back in March, and so I haven’t had much time to myself to even do anything. Thankfully, I learned on how to take time for myself now and balancing everything out. Anyways! I apologize if I’m rusty with my writing, it’s been a while. And idk how to feel about taehyungs part.

Kim Seokjin:

Ever since Korea has followed along with the United States by having the annual Purge two years ago, you decided with your boyfriend to go and experience it. Now, of course, you are prepared. Having a boyfriend who is the leader of the Korean Mafia, it’s no secret that he is prepared in many ways when it comes to…illegal things.

At first, he was against the idea of you going out on purge night, but once he realized that this was an internal thrill and want for you, he decided to go along with it. Whenever you heard of the purge happening in America, there was this thrill and excitement for one night a year for legal crime, you were wanting it to happen in Korea, and once you heard the news of Korea writing a bill and finalizing it, you wanted to purge. Now, it is a sick want, but some people need to release their anger and do shit that they would not do on a normal day when there are laws in place, but having that ability to do it with no repercussions, what could go wrong?

You were finally able to release the anger and hurt that a few people caused you and you wanted pay back. Could you just have Jin kidnapped and you could enjoy your sick pleasure by torturing them? Of course, but it is different when you can do everything start to finish.

“Babe, I think they’re dead…” you heard your boyfriend say in a monotone over the noise of your knife stabbing into the lady who embarrassed you when you were in sixth grade in front of the student body. She caused you anxiety and humiliation at a young age.

“Are you sure? Her body moved just a second ago.” You questioned cutely, already knowing she’s leaving the mortal realm. You’re just enjoying the thought of her never living again.

“Yes… she died five minutes ago, shortly after her husband.” Jin stated with a smirk on his face from watching you huff and fix your ponytail after giving the woman one last jab at her chest. Pushing off the wall, he walked over to you and cradled your face in his hands, loving how your cheeks crinkle your eyes because of how you have big cheeks that fit your face so well. “You do realize you spent about close to two hours of torturing and killing her that you have ten hours left? We must drive an hour to the next ‘victim’ of yours. And that depends if the roads are blocked off from Purgers.”

“With your driving, well make it there in twenty-five minutes. Plus, the boys already made sure that they’re not blocked.” You commented, grinning at Jin’s face turning red from realizing that you’re right.

“Okay, let’s get going, smart ass.” He ordered, slapping your ass before he grabs your hand and helping you step over the murder scene that just took place in the house.

Min Yoongi:

When the first purge happened in Korea, you and your boyfriend Min Yoongi obviously joined in on the fun. Now, on the second year, that is happening once again.

You were currently getting dressed into your purge outfit. You are wearing jean shorts with fishnets, combat boots, a crop top, a black leather jacket, your hair straightened, and face paint that is skeleton designed. Yes, you know that there is no reason to get dressed up for this night, but there’s no point in going out in sweats and a hoodie while you rob Walmart, the mall, and Hobby Lobby. You want to play the part.

You convinced your boyfriend to dress up with you this year since he did not last year, and it took lots of bribing and promising things, but you got what you wanted in the end like you always do.

“Babe, you ready? In about ten minutes the sirens will go off and along with announcement.” Your boyfriend told you as he walked into the bedroom, mouth dropping at your outfit, and just you in general. He’s now thinking about you guys staying in because he can feel himself getting excited at what he wanted to do with you – to you. “Maybe we should stay in tonight babe.”

Turning around, you glared at him. “Do you not realize that Hobby Lobby has cute house décor that we need for this place?”

“But I can just buy them for you baby,” your boyfriend pouted, along with making a fair point.

“But we can save that money with just stealing, legally! Plus, what’s the fun in that? We can take whatever we want without having to spend a single dime. And there’s build a bear at the mall, and I want all the stuff animals. We are not staying home just so you can rip my outfit apart. We can do that after the purge.” You countered back, determined to get free things, and possibly fighting someone who gets in your way.

It's been a stressful week with idiots at your job, and you’re looking for a reason to punch somebody.

Grumbling, your boyfriend threw his hands up in defeat, not wanting to challenge you while your mind is set. He’s learned when you threw a water bottle at him in the nono region when he tried to persuade you from not spending $50 on a large stuffed llama at Walmart because you already had plenty of stuffed animal llamas at home.

“Yes ma’am, can we at least break into the Oliva Garden on seventh street and take their breadsticks on the way home? I’ve been craving them lately.” He asked, putting his necklace on that you got him on your guy’s sixth month anniversary and his rings.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” you said, spraying your favorite perfume on. Right as you sat it down on your vanity, the sirens went off. Grabbing your gun that was specially made for you, you put in the gun holster that went with the outfit and your bag that had an emergency kit for just in case, along with one extra gun, you walked up and kissed your boyfriend.

“Ready baby?” he asked, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s roll! Hobby Lobby, here we come!”

Jung Hoseok:

It was a good idea at first, but now you’re questioning your train of thought from earlier, along with listening to your boyfriend. But sometimes men don’t know what they’re talking about. But then also is a long-time thief and is a mafia boss, so he does know what he’s talking about half of the time.

You just hate being wrong.

You thought that breaking into a bank that looked untouched from any other Purger’s was skeptical, but you decided to go ahead and do it anyways. But now, you realized that you should’ve listened to your conscious and boyfriend.

“This is your fault.” Your boyfriend commented, handcuffed to the wall.

“How is it my fault? You should’ve said something,” you snapped back, knowing that he did, but you won’t admit that he’s right.

“Stop being stubborn and just say, ‘babe, you were right, I’m a dumbass.’” He sassed, giving you a look that you hate. If only your hands weren’t handcuffed you would have smacked him, because it is the look of ‘you’re a dumbass,’ and know you were a dumbass, but you had a good idea that seemed like one to you, but it wasn’t.

You live and you learn.

“If you don’t wipe that look off of your face, I’ll do it for you after the boys get here and rescue us.”

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” He spoke in a childish tone, but you ignored and acted like you didn’t hear him.

Yes, you two are acting like children while being held at gun point, not caring that you are getting judgmental looks from your captors. What is even funnier, they don’t realize that they have the king and queen of the Korean mafia handcuffed to a pole. So, they are in a big surprise when the gang gets here.

“Will you two shut the fuck up? You sound like my kids right now.” A guy snapped, massaging his temples as if he has a headache.

“No, he called me a dumbass,” you argued back, “and I am not a dumbass.”

“You kind of are, babe.” Hoseok commented in a nonchalant tone. And after he said that gun fire began, a sign that his gang was here.

It was a quick process to say the least since the men who cuffed you both and had guns pointing at you for fifteen minutes were amateurs. After both of you getting uncuffed and you getting lectured by Jungkook and Taehyung on how you don’t know how to rob a place, you hit Hoseok in the arm.

“That’s for calling me dumbass,” you sneered, an angry look on your face.

“Noona, you kind of are…” the maknae’s said at the same time, quickly looking away once they felt your glare.

Kim Namjoon:

You don’t know what it is with your boyfriend, but he is like a child on Christmas morning when it comes to robbing places. He is in his own little world, piling up video games for the Maknae line for their Christmas presents, all of the sprite that he was able to get into the cart for Hoseok, all the colorful lights that Yoongi has talked about getting for his music room that he has at the house as his getaway area whenever he has the chance with his busy schedule of tracking people down, and then Jin kitchen décor for the kitchen at the base. You guys probably need to make a pit stop at HomeGoods for more of the decor because Walmart doesn’t have good selections, but it is the thought that matters.

“Babe! I found a book that I want to read!” Joon yelled out, reading the summary on the back of the book.

“What’s it called?” You asked, walking up to him and leaning your head against his arm, looking down at it.

“It’s called ‘The Cellar’ and it’s by this writer named Natasha Peterson. I’ve never heard of her, but this book sounds awesome.” He commented, placing it gently into the cart, “I’m getting it. I saw that it is a series, so we need to stop by Barnes and Nobel to get the rest of the series.” He mentally added that onto his list.

The peacefulness that was surrounding you both as you guys wondered around Walmart ended as soon as loud laughter sounded throughout the store and a gunshot. Namjoon instantly went into mafia mode, which is what you call it, and grabbed you and threw himself over you as he moved you both behind the shelf of towels and shielded you from any harm. His gun was pulled, and he was already texting the boys, who were also out and about on purge night, that there was a problem. You can’t trust anyone in general, but on Purge night, it’s a different ball game.

You could hear the group being rowdy, knocking everything over that was in their sight, making vulgar comments, and being disgusting in general. It sounded like they were getting closer, and that was making you nervous because of the fucking cart that was in the middle of the aisle.

“Joon, the cart.” You whispered, nervous as hell.

Namjoon muttered ‘fuck’ under his voice and was about to get up and grab the cart, when all the sudden WAP by Cardi B began blaring throughout the store.

Fucking Taehyung.

This obviously grabbed the groups attention because you heard them become alarmed, and slightly confused, on why WAP was blaring over the speakers. You heard someone yell, and then the sound of running on the other side of the aisle. You exhaled, relaxing when you heard the music turn off and Taehyung’s voice.

“I’m such a smart individual you guys.”

Park Jimin:

You and your boyfriend Jimin decided to stay in for the night. You both are not ones to partake in the new holiday because Jimin already deals with it daily. Whereas with you, you are not a fan of murder, despite being married to a mafia boss.

The house was on lock down, security cameras live on the second T.V. in the living room, the other T.V. playing your favorite show, the both of you cuddled up on the couch, and your favorite alcohol beverages next to both of you. It was peaceful, something that you both love when it comes to being with one another. It can be quiet, and no words spoken while you two are together and it isn’t boring or awkward, just peaceful.

That was until the camera for the backyard went black and Jimin got up quickly, and the look of anger and calculation was on his face. The peacefulness gone and the thought of murder was settling in the air. Becoming nervous, you jumped up and stood right behind your boyfriend, hands holding to both of his arms, and you pushing yourself up against him, trying to become one with him.

“Baby, grab the gun that’s in the cushion that you were sitting on. You remember how to use it, right?” Your husband asked, checking to make sure you remember. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to use a gun because there was never a need too, until tonight.

“Yeah, I remember,” you answered while you grabbed it, hating the cold feeling to it.

“Good, stay next to me at all times, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He replied, grabbing his gun from the side table, cocking it, and began to walk towards the kitchen where the bulletproof glass was that gave you both the ability to look outside. Peeking through it, your heart dropped at what you saw.

One of your security men hanging from the tree that was by your back porch. The churning of your stomach, heart pounding in your chest, and the want to wish you were dreaming was taking over your mind. And what was worse, the lights going out in the house. No power, no ability to see, and the fear of losing your husband became too much.

“Oh Jimin, I’m back. Let’s have some fun, shall we? There is only eleven hours left, and that gives us time to catch up. It’s been a long time, my friend.” A voice you never heard before sounded through the house, and it held everything but kindness.

Clutching Jimin’s arms, you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“Text the boys and tell them to hurry and tell them that Jacob isn’t dead. Tell them to come prepared,” he demanded quietly. “And if we don’t make it, just know we will meet again. I love you Y/N.” Jimin promised, bringing you in and holding you tightly.

Never in the ten years of knowing Jimin have you heard him sound scared before. But you did forget that there are still somethings you don’t know about him, and this is one of them.

Kim Taehyung:

There have always been snakes in every group, whether that being in gangs, friendships, relationships, or even in workplaces. There has been suspicion of a couple of snakes in the gang that your boyfriend runs, and you didn’t think that they would have the balls to do it on the night of the purge, of all days. You could do it on a Sunday, but they thought it would be best to do it on the night of a murder holiday.

You were sitting comfortably on the couch in your boyfriend’s office, watching Tik Tok and talking with your boyfriend as he does paperwork. Everything was peaceful until the moment that his six best friends ran into the office, closing the door and having pissed off looks on their faces.

“What the hell is going on?” Taehyung asked, standing up with a calculated look on his face.

“It’s Max and Jaiden. They’re the snitches and they’re gathering a few others to take us out tonight. Our security teams. The ones who are here now in this building.” Namjoon responds.

“Are you fucking serious? And are they stupid?” Taehyung questions, hands turning into fists as he thinks on what to do. It took a few moments for him to figure out on what he wants to do, before he looks up, “let’s go get rid of them all, but let’s save the two fuckers for last. We need to know what they all had done.”

The six men nod their heads before they left the room. Taehyung was the last to leave because he needed to gather a few things, along with kissing you goodbye. “Lock the door on my way out, you know it’s me when I do the three knocks.” He told you, helping you off the couch and led you to the door. As he walked out, you closed it and locked it, before making your way back to the couch to get comfortable.

Fifteen minutes later, the three knocks sounded. You realized it wasn’t a long process, but you brushed it off as you got to the door and opened it. Only to be greeted with Jaiden. Your heart fell to your stomach, and you quickly stood back.

“Hey, Y/N. Didn’t think I know the knock trick, huh?” He smirked, gun drawn and pointing at you.

“You know you have a death wish if you try something,” you pointed out, “you should really think about whatever you’re planning on doing.”

You didn’t even see him raise his hand until you felt it on your cheek. “Shut the fuck up. Do you not realize how fucking irritating it is to be bossed around and not be appreciated? For everything you do for this fucking gang, huh? You sacrifice your life daily for a guy who doesn’t even know how to fight. What kind of fucking leader is that, huh? And then see him take the girl you have loved for years and claim her as his own?” He questioned, stepping towards you.

You’re focusing on two things right now. The pain in your cheek and his reference towards you. He’s been in love with you? And he thinks that Taehyung has taken you from him? This guy is fucking delusional.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about? You could’ve done this tomorrow, or yesterday, or even last month. But, on purge night? That is hilarious.” You heard your boyfriend, relief flooding through your body. A groan of pain and the sound of electricity sounded through the air, and you know it was the taser that Jungkook bought for shits and giggles. Looking up, hand on your cheek from the hit, you said Jaiden on the ground, Taehyung standing above him. “You’re going to wish that you never once laid a hand on MY girl and for going behind my back to Ateez and giving them information.” Taehyung growled out, looking at you with a look that shook you to your bones.

Jeon Jungkook:

Occasionally, your boyfriends alter appears. Sometimes, it scares you because of how violent he can get, along with barely interacting with him. JK, for the first time in over a year, that you know of because that was the last time you had interacted with him for a few minutes, is out tonight.

You don’t know how to approach him, you don’t know how to do anything because of how you barely know him. You know that he is your boyfriend, and you do love him, but he scares you. You know that he wouldn’t do anything to you at all – he even told you that himself last year, but you know that you do not want to see him in action.

The gang had to leave the base because of Purgers who hate the gang, despite them never hurting an innocent citizen and only trying to protect them, raided the base and only a few got out. So now, you guys are now in the city, trying to get to across town on foot to the safety house that’s in the country. Everyone’s running, JK and his six brothers who are prepared for anything, and several other men who are a part of the gang are keeping the extra eye out for any danger.

You’re not an athletic person, running is not in your vocabulary, and so you are getting winded quickly. You thought you would be an athletic person when it comes to possibly dying, having all the adrenaline in you, but there isn’t any and so you’re slowly falling behind. Not being able to speak up because of having no breath in you since it’s long gone from the running you’ve done, you stop for a second and put your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and stretch for a few seconds.

Of course, you’re that person that stopped and now you’re getting yanked from the back. Screaming, which catches everyone’s attention, you began to kick the person who has a hold of you.

“Y/N!” Your boyfriend screamed, running towards you, only stop when other people came out of their hiding places and having guns drawn and ready to shoot. The look on your boyfriend’s face sent fear down your spine because it’s a look of pure bloodlust, the want to kill and torture the man who has you. “Let her fucking go, now.” He demanded, voice thick and deep.

“And why’s that? You don’t want to share this piece of meat with anyone else? Listen, pal, I can do whatever I want tonight and that is her.” The guy cockily said, the feeling of his hand sneaking down you, causing you to squirm and move his hand away. “Good luck on trying to stop me, but I have more men than you. There’s no way you’re going to—” He stopped in his sentence from your elbow jabbing into his stomach and then your foot making contact his dick. You learn thing or two from dating your boyfriend. “You fucking bitch!”

A warzone happened, and you somehow dodged his fist as it flew at you, but you ran towards your boyfriend, jumping into his arms, only to meet the ground with your back and he threw himself on top of you to protect you from any danger. The guns stop firing, and you heard the guy who grabbed you groaning. Hoseok managed to shoot him in the leg, but everyone else in his group are now dead, along with a wounded Jimin and Seokjin, and a dead member who meant everything to everyone.

“Nice job, baby,” JK praised, standing you both up, only to pull you against him, both your chests pressed together and his hands gripping your waist. This caused a blush to ran come across your cheeks and your chest, the look in his eyes hooded, but you know it is still JK, and this got you even more excited and nervous.

“Well, Jungkook taught me a thing or two… and so, I just acted.” You stuttered, trying to keep eye contact, but it being difficult from how intense JK is staring at you.

“Well, I can teach you a thing or two later. But now baby, I have to do something that I don’t want you to watch, or if you want to, I can teach you a few other things. But I don’t want to scare you away. So, now be a good girl and look the other way, you won’t like what you’ll see.” He ordered, eyes now deadly and not the ones that made an appearance for a few moments that comforted you.

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cadomoisspokenfor · 4 days

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I haven’t watched the Knuckles show yet, but even before seeing it I’m tired of the discourse. Mostly I’m tired of the way this fandom talks about each other, and how we’ve seemingly given in completely to the narrative of universal toxicity prescribed to the fandom by people outside it.

If someone says they dislike a certain piece of Sonic media, or have even an inkling of criticism for it, they get thousands of responses decrying them with things like “the Sonic fandom hates fun” or “the Sonic fandom is so toxic, they can’t handle even the tiniest adaptational changes” or “Sonic fans literally don’t even like the character.”

If someone says they like a certain piece of Sonic media, or even just praise certain aspects of it, they get thousands of responses along the lines of “Sonic fans standards are so low they’ll praise ANYTHING” or “Sonic fans don’t even know what good media is” or “the Sonic fandom is a cult that doesn’t accept even the smallest criticisms of their god.”

First off, which is it? Is the Sonic fandom incapable of hearing criticism, or does it only ever criticize without enjoying new things?

Second, this idea of the Sonic fandom being inherently toxic no matter what is a large part of what’s breeding so much toxicity in the first place. Can’t you see it? Please tell me you can see it. If no one can discuss ANYTHING, no matter what opinion they have, without it being labelled as “typical Sonic fan craziness,” than any attempt at building healthy community in the first place is forfeit because it’s already been decided that talking about the character we all like is off limits. We’re all only here to be mad at each other. No one dares say they’re actually a part of the fandom. We all have to be “fandom adjacent” to not be perceived as toxic by default. And that’s stupid.

Why do we talk to each other with such condescension? Why have we just accepted this state of affairs? Why do we act like our opinions are objective and that everyones else must agree with us or else be labeled as “crazy Sonic fans” even if we’re clearly Sonic fans ourselves? And if we don’t act like that, why do we tolerate so many others acting this way and ruining what could be a fairly straightforward and happy fan community? (Not to point the finger but many popular youtubers who dabble in Sonic perpetuate the above quite a bit and I very much wish we’d all stop treating them as arbiters of reason. They’re just people, same as you and me. It’s ok to disagree with them. It should be at least.)

I’m serious. Toxicity in the fandom is a real problem that needs constant vigilance in order to maintain a healthy community space, but that idea has been weaponized and the fandom’s become exponentially worse for it.

I guess I’m just asking, more like pleading, that before you jump to labeling someone saying they like or dislike a piece of media as toxic, stop and ask yourself “Are they really being toxic? Or are they just having an opinion in a completely-unsensational-if-it-was-any-fandom-but-the-sonic-fandom kinda way?”

People need to be able to say “Yes, we’re Sonic fans” without it carrying a negative connotation. And that takes recognizing the humanity in each other first and foremost. If we keep capitulating to those who call the fandom inherently toxic, it will only get worse. Again, toxicity is bad but we lost the plot ages ago. Let’s try and find it and then maybe this fandom can actually be fun again.

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #knuckles series #knuckles the echidna

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missmaywemeetagain · 9 months

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Read Need Your Love Tonight ✈️💙🔥...

It's 1961 and we're headed to Hawaii for the U.S.S. Arizona Benefit Concert! ✈️ This one is an older woman and Elvis, so buckle up, babies! All the pics are from the day/night of the concert, just cuz I know a little visual stimulation never hurts...😏

TW: SEXX, age gap (f > m), period appropriate ageist nonsense, fluff, Elvis in that gold jacket, a little sub!e for funsies

FYI: Gold Scarf ✨🧣✨comes out tomorrow for Sweethearts💕 & above tiers over on Patreon! Don't want to miss out? Join HERE ✨

March 25th, 1961

“Are you sure about this, y/n?” Margie asks you, yet again. She looks at the sign in your hand that you’ve got tucked in by your feet with doubt in her ever-practical brown eyes. “I mean, it’s not too late to just chuck it.”

You laugh, unwilling to let her change your mind. “Oh, come on, Margie! Have a little fun, will ya? It’s not like it really matters. He probably won’t even see it, anyway, so why not?”

“But it’s a little desperate, don’t you think? And it announces to the world that you’re practically a spinster at your age!” she laughs, poking you in your side.

You roll your eyes. “A divorcee is not a spinster, honey. Plus, it gives me character,” you say, fluffing your chic new bob. “Plus, lord knows Elvis Presley has plenty of young admirers. Some of these girls are just babies. They wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like him.” You wink at Margie salaciously.

“Oh, how in the world did I let you talk me into this?” she groans, teasing and giving you a smile that only a best friend could.

It’s not that her words don’t sting just a little though. You certainly hadn’t planned to be 35 years old and recently divorced, or for your husband—ex-husband—to be a giant cliché and leave you for his (much) younger secretary.

That’s why you treated yourself on this trip to Hawaii, using his money and dragged Margie, your life-long best friend, along for the ride. It was a huge bonus when you found out Elvis was going to be performing for the first time since the 50’s and for charity no less. You didn’t mind one bit when springing for the $100 ringside seats for you and Margie. It was a win-win-win situation.

Even though you’d been older than him and his target audience, Elvis intrigued and attracted you from the beginning. The young man with the sleek hair, cutting edge style, and wiggling hips set your heart aflutter even though you were married and, according to your mother, should be “beyond such things.”

Hey, there isn’t any harm in looking, was your thought.

You wiggle your feet under your chair to try and alleviate the numbness in your toes. Perhaps heels hadn’t been the most practical choice for this particular venture, but really all you care about (despite what you told Margie) is Elvis noticing you, even just a little bit. God knows you need this after all you’ve been through. And if that takes wearing a sexy outfit and making a ridiculous sign asking, “Am I too old for you?” in giant, bold letters to get his attention, so be it.

You may be in your mid-thirties and divorced, but you still look decent. And you don’t plan on being single forever. Something in you feels like if you can at least catch the eye of the most famous man on earth, you have a chance at catching another man sooner rather than later.

Your stubborn, fiery nature will come in handy tonight, you just know it will. Even as that too-grown-up shred of doubt telling you this is silly winds through your mind, you still have a good feeling about this.

Sitting through the opening acts, you find yourself wiggling in your seat, filled with an excitement you haven’t felt about anything in a while. The other acts are good—you particularly enjoy that the opening comedienne was a woman—but you are itching to see Elvis. In the flesh.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the main event begins. Your eardrums are blasted out by what must be at least two full minutes of young girls shrieking at the top of their lungs. Rightly so, you think as you watch the tall drink of water that is Elvis Presley strut onto the stage. You are blessing your lucky stars above for the divorce settlement because you are so close, you can see just how deliciously handsome the man is in person.

And, boy, is he.

Even having seen his perfect visage in movies on the big screen truly did not hold a candle to the broad-shouldered man in the glittering gold jacket standing on the stage before you. There is almost an innocence and perhaps even a nervousness in his deep-set dreamy blues. His dark hair is coiffed just perfectly and you watch his leg jiggle as he takes the microphone. A wave of heat rolls over you, flushing you from head to toe, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature in the arena.

There is a boyish playfulness to him you do not expect of the seasoned 26-year-old entertainer. He is indelibly charming and likable, not afraid to laugh at himself or the insanity of the crowd around him, but it’s not in a disparaging way. It’s more like he still can’t quite believe it’s all for him.

The reason he’s always fascinated you becomes obvious now that he’s right in front of you. He is a walking contradiction—delicate feminine features in a sharp masculine package, a deep low drawl coupled with a light warbling tenor. Singing lyrics that make you think the dirtiest things and then he turns around and does a spiritual. You have whiplash in the very best way.

You’re so distracted by his essence and the hypnotizing way he’s working the crowd that you almost forget about your sign. When One Night croons out of him with the promise of his “sweet helping hand,” a fire lights under you and you fumble around at your feet and flip the sign up for him to see.

Come on, come on, come on, you think, tapping your foot. Look over here.

At this point you will accept anything from the singer—a wink would suffice. Anything to let you know that you’re not just a washed-up divorcee who’s too old or ugly to find happiness with anyone else. Even if that happiness is just for one night because of one small moment, it’ll be worth it.

He’s so consumed by the song, his eyes closing and the rhythm pumping through his whole body, that you’re not sure he’ll see you. Your fingers grip the sign anxiously. You’d rather not have to hold it up for the rest of the concert, and you are kicking yourself for not remembering earlier, but you’ll do what you’ll have to do.

The end of the song comes, to which he adds a toe-curling groan, and when he opens his eyes, they land on you. A bolt of lightning strikes inside you, filling your veins with a scorching desire at the way those pretty eyes fall on your sign. You wait with bated breath as he reads each word silently, “Am I too old for you?” He gives you a quick cursory glance and then starts to walk away.

“Thank you,” he says to the crowd as screams fill the arena. The opening chords of Are You Lonesome Tonight start to play.

Fitting song choice, you think a little bitterly. Well, at least he saw me.

You find yourself fighting back tears, the split-second moment feeling anticlimactic and dissatisfying. A bit of a punch to the gut, really. It’s the dismissal that really stings, though your logical brain tells you he’s concentrating on his work and your sign is likely no more than a short distraction.

Suddenly, Elvis stops. He turns back towards you and steps in your direction. Your breath catches in your throat when he points at you. It is as if his finger is connected to you by an invisible string, and you find yourself sitting up taller and leaning forward on the edge of your seat. Then, he tilts the microphone away for a moment, his infamous lip curling up into a delicious boyish smile.

“Never,” he says, looking you straight in the eyes.

There’s about a hundred horses galloping in your chest and you feel like you might melt into the chair or start shrieking like one of the thousands of teenagers behind you. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. Margie elbows you in the ribs and you blink, and realizing he’s staring, waiting, you smile the biggest smile you’ve ever smiled.

He winks in response and then turns back to the band. You let out a shuddering breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, dropping the sign on the floor.

“Oh, my god, y/n! He spoke to you! He pointed you out!” Margie whispers excitedly in your ear, bouncing up and down as if she too had been possessed by a teenage girl.

For once in your life, you are speechless and can only nod in her direction, your eyes never leaving Elvis. It’s like you are in his thrall and unable to do anything but focus on his voice and his beautiful face.

Ever the consummate performer, he uses his space well, walking from one end of the stage to the other as he brings the entire arena to quiet with the lullaby-esque ballad. Your frustrated tears from earlier have morphed into tears of overwhelm, of being moved by his voice and the melody. Combined with the lyrics of this particular tune, it feels like he’s somehow seen into your soul and is singing straight to you.

He's in front of you now, and you barely register the fact that he’s bending down, throwing his long legs over the edge of the stage to sit there, as if he weren’t performing for a crowd of 4,000. The girls shriek with even more fervor.

As he begins the spoken part, his legs dangling right there in front of you, he says, “I wonder if you’re lonesome tonight,” staring straight at you once again.

Every nerve in your body is at attention and you know you’ve flushed a shade of cherry red because he smiles knowingly at the effect he’s had on you. He looks away, continuing the rest of the spoken part, and you shiver despite the humid warmth.

Only Margie’s hand clamping over yours reminds you that you are still on earth and that this is indeed all real. And when he looks back at you and says, “I loved you at first glance,” the blood drains from your head straight into your belly and you think you might actually pass out, right there in front of him.

A choked noise escapes your throat and luckily Margie, knowing you as well as she does, starts squeezing your hand with a grip strength you didn’t know was possible from the tiny woman. The pain brings you out of your daze, and you breathe again as he looks away and finishes the song.

It was truly more than you ever could have hoped for and the last three songs of the set fly by. You don’t want it to end, but at least you accomplished what you’d set out to do, which honestly was a little bit of a surprise, despite all your talk at the beginning. For the first time in a long while, you feel a tad bit hopeful about the future. You know it’s probably stupid, this idea that a morsel of attention from Elvis Presley could make you feel valued again, but you feel it all the same. After all, if Elvis thinks your worthy of note, then you must be.

Take that, Mike. You and your secretary can shove it. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

A boisterous version of Hound Dog starts playing and you find yourself grinning from ear to ear, bopping back and forth with Margie. You can’t help but stare at those famous hips as he shakes them oh so perfectly in your direction and are quite mesmerized by them when Margie very pointedly bumps your knee with hers. Looking over, you see a short man in front of you bending towards your ear.

“Hi, Miss, I’m Joe. I work for Elvis, and he would like to see you after the show,” Joe says kindly, presenting it as more of a statement than a question. Your eyebrows shoot up to the sky and you look at him disbelievingly. “You and your friend, of course,” he adds quickly, with a disarming smile.

You shoot Margie a look that you hope conveys the appropriate amount of giddy excitement under the strategically calm look you plaster across your face. It’s one thing to be a mooning schoolgirl with your friend in the audience, but completely different once a very real and unfamiliar young man invites you to meet Elvis Presley.

You give the guy a once over and see the lanyard hanging from his neck that shows that he is indeed working as part of the show, lending some credibility to his request. Margie looks at you with keen eyes, then gives you a shrug of approval before you nod and agree.

“Come with me, ladies, or we’ll be caught in the crowd,” Joe says, ushering you two out of the area before the last song is over. Head spinning, you feel a little regretful that you are missing it, and you are almost out of sight before you realize you’ve left the sign on the floor.

The song and the sign should be the last thing on your mind, but you find your disbelief of the situation feels a little too much to handle as Joe brings you to a black door with a guard standing in front of it. If you had any doubt before, the nod of the guard and the way he instantly opens the door for Joe tells you that this might be real after all.

Margie loops her arm in yours as you step into the dark hallway and Joe leads you away from the stage and the shrieking applause of the arena. By the sound of the immense applause, Elvis’ set is finished and he must be taking his bows.

The butterflies in your stomach make you glad you had only a light dinner as Joe finally opens a door to what you assume is a dressing room. You blink against the light.

“Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. Elvis will be with you shortly,” Joe says before leaving and closing the door behind him.

You break away from Margie, who starts tittering around the room. You are so dazed you barely hear her.

“Are you listening to me, y/n? I cannot believe your silly sign worked! Elvis Presley—the Elvis Presley—wants to see us? I mean, you, really, but hey, I’m glad to be along for the ride! He is awfully handsome, isn’t he?” Margie rambles on.

All you can do is nod while your mind whirls a million miles an hour. Suddenly, all your confidence from before the show disappears and you feel incredibly silly. You’re almost an old woman, for god’s sake. What are you even doing here? What if Elvis comes back, sees how old you really are, and realizes his mistake? Oh, this might be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and that’s saying something.

“Oh, no you don’t, missy. Don’t you give up on me now, not when you’re so close to the finish line!” Margie scolds, then puts her arm around you, leading you to the couch. She sits you down and turns your face to hers.

“He’s gonna take one look at me and run for the hills, Marg,” you whimper.

“Stop it—he will do no such thing. And keep your expectations manageable. We’re just meeting him, that’s all. It’s not like you are going to sleep with the man!” she laughs and shakes her head.

You don’t laugh and Margie stops abruptly. “Oh, my lord above, do you want to sleep with him? Do you think he wants to sleep with you?” she asks, lowering her voice to a whisper, her eyes widening.

This time you can’t help but laugh at her. “Okay, first of all, who doesn’t want to sleep with him? Secondly, I have no idea if he wants that. He’s the biggest star in the world, Marg! I don’t know what his expectations are of the women he brings backstage!” you whisper back, looking around as though there might be lackies lurking about listening to you two chirp away.

Margie now looks as nervous as you feel. She starts playing with her wedding ring in a self-soothing motion and you can’t help but fidget with the simple diamond necklace hanging around your neck.

“Look, it’s probably nothing, right? You just caught his eye and he wants to say hi,” she says, trying to be reassuring but it feels anything but.

“Yes, of course…you don’t think he’ll laugh at me, do you? Like he didn’t just bring us back to make fun of me, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t seem the sort to do that,” she replies, as if she knows the man personally.

Before you can respond, you hear people in the hallway, coming closer by the second. You don’t even have time to look in the mirror because the door opens and the room floods with a loud group of men.

You quickly slide your best confident and nonchalant air over your features, a skill well-practiced from your days going to Mike’s work parties with his insufferable partners and their equally insufferable wives.

The moment Elvis enters the room, the air shifts, as though his essence somehow defies physics and the atoms that make him up are different than the rest of yours. He is glowing, both with sweat and the high of his performance, his gold jacket abandoned to one of his followers along the way. His white ruffled shirt is soaked through with sweat and the sight has you beginning to sweat yourself. It’s as if his pheromones have already sent your hormones into overdrive, and you have the sudden urge to rip that sweaty shirt right off his body.

Instead, you dig your nails into your palm and wait for him to notice you. It takes a moment, what with all the hullabaloo around him. He’s still breathing hard from his performance and laughing with the men. You watch carefully as he pulls off his blue string tie and begins unbuttoning his shirt and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. The scene is so natural and intimately masculine in its way that it sends a shiver down your spine and reminds you that it’s been too long since you’ve had a man if this is all it takes to get you going.

The room suddenly feels very hot and it’s in that moment that Elvis sees you. He gives a low whistle. “Well, if it isn’t the pretty lady with the sign,” he says in his lilting Southern drawl, his eyes never leaving you as he makes his way across the room. Your heart flutters as though a hummingbird is caught in your chest. You stand to greet him.

“Mr. Presley,” you say demurely as he comes to a stop before you and takes your hand in his. The heat from it is blistering on your skin in the best possible way, and when he presses his lips into your fingers without taking those gorgeous blue eyes off you, the zing goes straight into your core.

“Please call me Elvis,” he says in a way that is sweet as pie but with an undercurrent of heat that causes you to blush. “And you are?”

It takes a second for you to remember your own name, and in that short break, Margie jumps up beside you. “She’s y/n, and I’m Margie,” she says, and you hold yourself back from shooting her a scathing look when his eyes shift to her with a kind smile.

A kind smile, but without the same heat, you can’t help but notice.

When he turns back to you and guides you back to the couch, Margie gives you a knowing glance and bites her lips in a smile, obviously trying to hold back a girlish grin.

It doesn’t take long for Elvis to cozy up to you. His arm ends up around the back of the couch and then your shoulders rather quickly, his long fingers drawing soothing circles on your dress. If you were younger and less experienced, this might have been salaciously forward. As it stands, however, sitting here so close to him that you can feel the heat radiate off his sweaty body, it is not even close to enough to satiate you.

Elvis keeps asking you questions, looking at you with endlessly deep blue bedroom eyes framed in long, dark lashes, smudged with remnants of what you assume is eye makeup. You answer his questions, nervous and coy at first, then with increasing candor, because all at once you come to a decision:

You want nothing more than to utterly ruin this boy, despite propriety, despite your reservations and low expectations from earlier. No, judging from the curiously passionate way he keeps looking at you and the increasing tightness in your lower belly, you very much know that you want to take him to bed.

Almost as if he can read your mind, he leans in towards your ear. “Would ya like to come back to my place, darlin’?” he whispers. The hushed, warm cadence of his voice sends tingles sparkling over your body. He’s surprisingly shy about the proposition considering how forward it is, and it’s all you can do to keep from straddling his spread legs right there and then.

Instead, you settle for a nod and a quiet, “I’d like that very much.”

With that, he wastes no time, popping up off the couch and announcing abruptly that it’s time to go. His entourage scrambles to attention, and Margie gives you a quizzical look as Elvis grabs your hand.

You smile at her in the way only a best friend can and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, as though she can’t quite believe your intentions. She’s nervous, you can tell by the way her brow furrows. She begins worrying her lip as the both of you are ushered out and down the dimly lit corridor.

Part of you thinks that perhaps you should be nervous, too. After all, you don’t know Elvis or his people. Yet there is something about him that is utterly disarming—a unique sort of charm perhaps, but it really is more than that. It’s a vulnerability you don’t expect from a man like him. A yearning to connect, maybe.

It’s something that makes him not so different from you.

Before you can really absorb what’s happening, you are whisked into a car with Elvis, Margie, and some of his people, and the lot of you are taken to the Hawaiian Village Hotel. Margie grips one hand while you splay the other on Elvis’ thigh. He lays his larger hand on top and threads his fingers through yours, suggesting a level of intimacy which surprises you. There is a neediness to it, and you have the distinct urge to take care of him in whatever way you can. A knot of warmth grows deep in your belly at the thought.

You feel calmer than you should because, despite his fame, every second you spend with Elvis he becomes less of an untouchable superstar and more of just a man. Even though in any other circumstance you might be afraid being in the company of so many strange men, this feels more like you were meant to be here all along. As if everything in your life has led you to this very night. You are excited, to be sure, but not afraid in the least. In fact, you are feeling more confident than you have in a while, an anticipatory excitement building in you with every passing minute.

Once you get to the hotel, Elvis does not want to let you out of his sight, or even his grasp, which makes it a little hard to convey to Margie all these thoughts of yours. It’s not until you abscond to the bathroom that you are able to get her alone, and even that gains you the cutest little boy pout from the young man who now seemingly has his sights set on only you. You escape only after telling him you must freshen up and give him a long kiss to the cheek, which you notice turns him a little pink.

Margie is beyond hesitant to leave here without you. “Don’t you think you are taking this a little too far, y/n?” she asks you with worry in her eyes.

“Marg, I know what I’m doing, and I’d be crazy not to take this chance. You know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t. And it’s not like I’m some young, innocent thing he’s taking advantage of, am I?” you remind her, checking your makeup and hair in the mirror.

“I guess not. But promise me you’ll be careful! And that you’ll call me. I’ll worry if I don’t hear from you,” she tuts.

“I know and I will. You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you smile, hugging her.

“I know I am,” she says, nodding, then whispers, “You better be ready to share all the details when you get back. A married woman can still be curious, you know.”

You laugh and say goodbye before Margie announces that she’d like to be taken back to your hotel. A few men hop to and she’s off before you know it.

Once she’s gone, Elvis grabs your hand and pulls you back into his suite of rooms, alone.

“You go on and make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. I just need to take a shower and get all this grime offa me,” he drawls, turning to the ensuite bathroom.

Emboldened by the quiet and the dark, you grab his hand and pull him back to you. Cupping his pretty face, you plant a long, lingering kiss full of promise on his lips. You can feel his surprise, at first, but he quickly relents and wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Feeling him pressed against you sends your body into overdrive. Besides an angry and cliché tussle with the mailman after Mike had announced he was leaving, you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a while. That coupled with the raw, magnetic pull that had been growing all night between you and Elvis has your toes curling and your heart racing.

Elvis may be young, but he sure does know how to kiss, you think. His lips are incredibly soft and pliant and gentle, but you can feel his passion brewing just under the surface in the fevered way his hands dig into your back and his cock twitches in his slacks.

Even though you are loathe to do so, you break away first. “You’d better go shower,” you command, smoothing the ruffles on his shirt.

“Y-Yes, m-ma’am,” he manages to choke out, nodding voraciously. With one last peck to your cheek, he absconds quickly, and in his haste leaves the door open a crack. He undresses in what must be record breaking time, which you can hear from how quickly his clothes drop to the floor. Just thinking of him wet and naked mere feet away has slick gathering in your underwear. It takes everything in you to not follow him in.

Yes, you think you just might ruin him tonight, in the best possible way. Honestly, you’re not exactly sure where this self-assurance is coming from, other than the fact that he seems very taken with you and you have nothing to lose. You’re sure he’s quite experienced—there’s no way he wouldn’t be with his age and level of stardom, and while that should give you pause, you still have nearly a decade on the man. While your sex life had dwindled recently, there were plenty of better years when you and Mike went at it like rabbits.

You sit on the edge of the bed, opting not to take of your dress. There’s something about the fact that he will be naked (or nearly so) with you being fully clothed when he walks back in that entices you in such a way that it sends a shiver down your spine. Of course, it would’ve been prudent of you to wear sexier underwear, but you suppose your white lace set will have to do. Plus, you aren’t entirely certain you will be wearing them for long, anyway…

True to your prediction, the shower turns off in record time. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands, casually but expectantly. Elvis is breathless when he flings the door open, as though he just ran a sprint, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. He looks at you with hopeful, needy anticipation.

He's an absolute vision. Never has a man looked so good, you think. God surely spent extra time crafting this one, what with his high cheekbones and sparkling blue eyes and perfect lips. You make no secret of the way you take in his whole body, either, and his lips part and his eyes widen and you can’t tell if he’s maybe a little self-conscious by the way your gaze is raking over him.

You don’t care. The rapid rise and fall of his chest as he watches you tells you he’s enjoying it. His towel is slung low, wrapped and tucked in around his waist. There’s no hiding how his cock is hardening beneath it, the terrycloth twitching and tenting right before your eyes. Between that and the disheveled state of his wet hair, it makes you want to lick him dry in more ways than one.

You uncross your legs slowly and use one finger to beckon him forward in a come-hither action. You’d seen him do the same in one of his movies last year, but my oh my, how the tables have turned. He gulps visibly, his eyes drifting from your legs to your finger and back again, then pads towards you on the plush carpet until he’s standing right before you.

Looking up at him, you bite your lip coquettishly and see his eyes dilate. Your gaze drifts down his chest to his stomach, then follows the little trail of hair that goes from his belly button and disappears beneath the towel. You can’t help pressing your lips right above his navel and you feel him shudder against you, which you take as a sign to keep going. Kissing across his soft but lean stomach, then down that little trail, you open your legs and grab his hips, pulling him forward to you. He trips over his own feet to get there.

When your hands skirt the edge of the towel and begin to pull it open, his hand stops you. You look up at him to find him shaking his head bashfully.

“Y-y-you don’t h-hafta do that, m-ma’am,” he stammers out, belying his nervousness. You can’t seem to piece out why, exactly, because by the quite prominent erection he’s sporting right in front of your face, it’s evident that he’s excited by the notion. Perhaps he’s used to pretty, young things who don’t know what they are doing, or maybe the notorious 50’s rebel is a little old fashioned. But if there’s one thing you became quite skilled at in the last few years (in the failed hopes it might help your marriage), it was how to make a man fall apart in your mouth. You’d even developed quite the taste for it.

And something about the way he is calling you “ma’am” in his delightful and polite Southern accent has you licking your lips. “Oh, I know I don’t have to, baby,” you coo at him, “but I want to.” And with that, you unravel the towel and let it drop to the floor.

Elvis lets out a choked groan and his hands flail as though he wants to cover the magnificent member that springs forth before you, slapping up against his stomach. You swat his hands away, lips parting with a sigh as you take him in.

He’s intact, the red tip of him nestled under lighter foreskin. Perhaps that why his cheeks are as pink as they are. You’d heard women titter in whispers about uncircumcised men being “ugly” or “unclean,” and while you didn’t have any personal experience with it, it does not turn you off in the least. Quite the opposite, if fact, as you can feel your arousal soaking the fabric between your thighs. What is beyond evident is that God didn’t just give him a pretty voice and a pretty face—he’s got a cock to match.

“Perfect,” you sigh and smile up at him, rubbing encouraging little circles at his hipbone with your thumb.

He lets out a shaking breath and a look of relief passes quickly over his features, but there is still a vulnerable hesitance about him. It does something primal to you. You just want to eat him right up.

But before that, you think he’s due for a little teasing. It’s the least you can do after the show he put on for you earlier and how it had made you ruin your panties to watch him live on stage. Pressing your lips along the cut of his groin, you feel the tickle of the course thatch of hair he’s got curling around the base of him. He shivers violently with each kiss, holding back a strangled moan as you get closer and closer to the place he wants you the most. Not seeming to know what to do with his hands, they flounder a bit before resting lightly on your shoulders, the heat of them blazing through your dress.

Using just the tip of your pointer finger, you run it under and up his large ball sack, noticing the way they seem to draw in closer and the way he jumps when you do so. Your other hand reaches around to grab his perfectly round ass cheek to keep him near and steady. The cutest little yelp falls out of his mouth. You smile, finally dragging your finger up the silky soft flesh covering his rock-hard shaft.

He jolts, the long length of his cock bouncing toward you, knowing and eager for what you have in store for him. The tip of your finger circles the slit of him, already weepy with precum, and you see how sensitive he is around his foreskin when he sucks in a short breath as your finger circles that, too.

Without warning him, you run the tip of your tongue from base to head, savoring the clean but still musky scent of him as you go. You look up to see his eyes roll back and his lips part, a whisper of “Goddamn,” falling from his mouth like a prayer.

You kiss and lap your way back down then take him in your hand to tilt his cock down to you. The heavy feel of him in your palm coupled with the way his hands tighten and dig into the fabric of your dress has you knowing you are on the right track. You pump him once, twice, three times, your wrist twisting and changing pressure to see what makes him moan the most. When you find the right combination, you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip before closing your mouth around it.

The low keen that vibrates out of him is desperate and sensual. Your thighs tighten around his legs, boxing him in, and your pussy clenches around nothing, yearning for friction. Right now, you concentrate on taking him in your mouth, lathing your flattened tongue up and down his penis while you suck in, sealing yourself around him.

It’s then that his hands finally fly up to your hair, carting through it, and you can feel him holding back. It’s good that he knows you are in charge, and he fully submits to how you begin working his balls and the hilt of him with one hand as you inch his ample length further into your mouth.

Obscene moans are falling past his lips now, only getting louder when you match them with your own, the vibrations causing him to thrust a little down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants as you press him past your gag reflex, your throat tightening then relaxing around him. His legs tremble and you pull off him for a moment to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to him still.

Elvis whimpers and you smile up at him, using your hand to pump him fully. You reckon he’s not going to last long in this by the way he’s crumbling so beautifully in front of you. The urge to want to choke on his cock comes over you so strongly that you can’t wait any longer. You take him back down your throat quickly enough that his eyes pop open in surprise and his hand finally tightens in your hair the way you want it to.

He's bigger than Mike in every way, but you don’t let that deter you. No, you feel quite confident as you open your throat for him as best you can, all the while working him with your tongue and hand. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you could conquer the world, despite your age, despite being divorced, because you are going to make the king of rock and roll himself unravel at your feet. The thought has you soaking your panties as Elvis murmurs your praises.

“I-I-I’m not gonna…last…gonna blow if ya keep this up, mama,” he pants, trying to pull away as if not wanting to sully you. But you are far too experienced and far too aroused for such sentiment. Instead, you grab his ass in both hands and press him so far down that your nose hits his pelvis. Feeling him tense and shudder, you give him every trick at once, relishing his pleasure as it serves your own. His strangled cry fills the air as he pulses in your mouth, shooting his salty release straight down your throat as you swallow around him.

The pleasured run of expletives he’s moaning must be loud enough for others to hear, but that arouses you even more because you are causing it. His body shakes hard through his orgasm, and he bows over you, clutching your head in an effort to stay standing. When you finally pull off him, his saliva-covered dick is still heavy and hard.

Ah, youth, you think with a smile.

“Oh, oh mama,” he says breathlessly, “that w-was…oh lord...” Then he collapses next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.

You shift your body sideways so you can look down at him in his fucked-out afterglow. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful now than he was before, both innocent and debauched all at once, his high cheekbones flushed and his eyes dark and sparkling with lust. You can’t help but run your hand down his heaving chest, just to prove that this vision is real.

The action focuses him and he looks over at you, concerned, his hand cupping your cheek. “You okay? Y-ya really din’t have ta do that, honey,” he says quietly, his dark brows furrowing together handsomely.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, baby. I loved it,” you say, smiling. “Can I show you how much?”

His eyes widen and he nods.

As bold as you’ve ever been, you take his other hand in yours, tucking it under your dress. Slowly, you run his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His callouses catch on your silky stockings and you hear him hum in approval when you reach the past where your garter belt holds them up and your soft, bare flesh is exposed to his touch. There is no stopping you now, and when you guide his fingers to the sopping fabric between your legs, you watch as his lips part in what can only be described as a reverent, aroused awe.

“Ohhhh,” is about all he’s able to get out, and your body yields to him, legs falling open of their own accord as a sigh tumbles from your lips. You dip his fingers under the band that separates you and press him into the slick, and that’s all it takes for the boy to snap to attention.

In a fast, fluid motion, his lips capture yours, and he reverses your positions so you are lying back on the bed. As his mouth explores above, his fingers mirror below, caressing through your slick folds before circling your clit. It only takes him a moment of experimentation to find what makes you quake and roll in his hand—he’s obviously skilled in the art of a woman’s body, you’ll give him that.

You moan into his mouth when he pushes two long fingers up into your wet heat. Your pussy clenches around him, tight and needy, reminding you it’s been neglected for far too long. Pumping wickedly slow, he uses his tongue in your mouth to mimic what he’s doing to your clit with his thumb. God, you want him to devour you whole, you think as your nails dig into the bare flesh of his back and he curves his fingers inside you just so.

“Elvis!” you gasp and that cheeky lip of his curls up into that famous smirk. It turns your stomach gooey and molten, and your cunt squeezes demandingly around his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, his descent is thwarted by your dress. You whine when his fingers leave you and he pulls you to sit up. In one fell swoop, he deftly unzips your dress and yanks it up over your head, discarding it unceremoniously on the floor. Hungrily, his eyes rake over your form, and the scrutiny would usually have you a tad self-conscious, but he’s on you so fast, nipping at your skin, that you couldn’t care less what you look like.

The boy is proving quite proficient in removing undergarments, unclasping your bra with such skill that you barely realize it’s off before it joins your dress in a heap on the floor. You can’t think about much of anything with how his lips pepper your breasts with kisses, and when he attaches softly to your nipple, suckling there, the zinging sensation shoots straight through you and into your aching pussy.

You want him everywhere, your soft sighs of, “yes, yes, yes” urging him on. Running his hands up your legs, he slowly pops each clasp that holds up your stockings, his thumbs massaging maddening circles on the sensitive inner flesh of your upper thighs. Shivers ripple through you when he starts rolling the silky fabric off each leg, kissing each new inch of skin he exposes as he goes.

“Look at these pretty yittle sooties,” he coos as he takes off your heels and stockings, his hands massaging your sore arches. Your body, already on high alert, nearly levitates off the bed at the delectable it-hurts-so-good feeling. His lips press into your ankles, slowly trailing their way back up to your sex.

Oh, he’s good. You didn’t expect this, though perhaps you should have. The closer he gets to the ruined gusset of your panties, the faster your chest swells. It’s been a long time since any one has been down there like this, and you almost stop him, but the feel of his mussed damp hair tickling your thighs has you in quite a state. You suppose turnabout is fair play when he lightly and quickly presses his tongue into your core over the fabric, teasing what you hope is to come.

He switches gears and makes surprisingly quick work of your garter belt. His eyes flash in the darkness as he takes your panties in his teeth, dragging them with a playful growl down your legs. Completely exposed for him, he yanks you to the edge of the bed and pushes gently on your knees, spreading you open with a delight you didn’t know was possible.

“All that for me, mama?” he asks quietly, running the tip of his finger through your dripping arousal before putting it in his mouth and licking it clean. It’s so wonderfully dirty, making your cunt throb for attention.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding furiously. When he licks his lips, you think you might die from waiting, but then he’s on you, his tongue lathing wide and flat from your ass to your clit.

You don’t recognize the sounds coming out of your mouth, the sensation of his wet softness exploring your most intimate areas being so overwhelming that it is hard to focus. He kisses and swirls around your puffy little nub, and your fingers fly into his dark hair, clasping the wet strands. When he hums against you in response, the vibrations have you gasping.

He continues his work, his tongue pointedly lapping through your swollen folds to your entrance. You think you might be dreaming when he begins fucking you with his tongue, and the tightness in your belly clinches when he flicks his finger over your clit rapidly.

“Oh, god,” you groan, hips undulating against his face, needing more of him. You had set out to ruin this man tonight and now he is undoing you piece by piece instead. He is a responsive and intuitive lover, you realize, as he replaces his tongue with his much longer fingers, pressing up into your body with precision.

Gaping, you push up on your elbows as he pulls back, and you catch the stunning sight of his pretty face slick with your arousal, looking at your cunt with determined reverence. He finds that spongey spot up inside you and takes that moment to fix his mouth to your sensitive bud and your eyes roll back in your head as you arch off the mattress to be closer to the heaven he’s bringing you to.

Fire spreads from your belly into the rest of your body, and you feel your climax closing in on you rapidly, despite part of you wanting this to last forever. When you realize he’s moaning against you and rutting against the bed, it sends a whole new set of fireworks through your nerves.

He’s getting off on this, you think. My pleasure his getting him off.

And there’s nothing sexier than that.

Adding another finger, he fucks you faster, harder, all the while massaging your clit intentionally with his tongue. He is a man on a mission now, and the searing wave of heat crests inside of you. All it takes is the guttural moan he lets go against you and you break apart.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and you thrust into his face as you come. It hits you hard and you cry out as he fucks you through it, catapulting you from your sensitive body to somewhere in the stratosphere.

Your eyelids flutter as you float back down to earth. The feel of his tongue licking up your release has you shuddering against him.

“Oh. Oh,” is all you can seem to manage, and you stare up at the ceiling wondering what good deed you did in your life to deserve this.

You feel Elvis slide his body up yours to lay beside you. He kisses up your neck until he reaches your lips, and you taste the tang of yourself on him. It shouldn’t entice you, but it does. Lying there, his naked body pressed against your side, you feel the hot heaviness of his erection hard against your hip.

“Best poster I ever made,” you breathe out, your filter completely gone after your mind-blowing orgasm.

Elvis chuckles in your hair. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age, young man?” you tease, poking into his side.

“Hey now! I jus’ wanna make sure I don’t hurt ya. Don’t wanna send you to the home quite yet,” he smirks, then bites your shoulder.

“Oh, one of us is going to the home alright, and it’s not me,” you retort, pushing him over and flipping on top of him. “I’ll show you.”

He grunts as you straddle his hips. “Yes, ma’am, you’d better show me,” he says coyly.

“Good boy.” You grind down on him.

Being in your 30s has never been so sweet.

TAGLIST

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen @paigevis @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @ amydarcimarie @idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj @claire-elvisgirl @everythingelvispresley @louisejoy86

#need your love tonight #elvis #elvis presley #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #1961 was a goooooood year #sugar mama request #austin butler elvis #✈️💙🔥#if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 1961 #u.s.s. arizona benefit concert #hawaii 1961 #madisyn may #missmaywemeetagain #older woman reader x elvis

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theundercoversquid · 2 years

Text

Meeting the family

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x author reader!Reader

Request: writer reader x charles can you add the third chapter to the leclerc story, this time the reader can meet charles family. you’re amazing. thank you - @lilimgy

Paired with: I just read your story charles leclerc x writer reader and I just fell in love it was great I wonder if charles and his family talked about the relationship between the reader and charles, if he wanted to meet the pascale reader, if arthur was constantly hanging out with charles and lorenzo was wondering about this relationship, then charles would talk to the reader and then with aike if introduced. please please please please write. - @lyragarcia

Paired with: Hello there. I hope you're good. Can you please continue author reader x Charles Leclerc? For example, the reader may move to Monaco, or learn about media relations, Charles may always want to read the reader's new novel, Charles may introduce the reader to his family. Please keep writing because it's so beautiful. - @miamedyu

Warnings:

Masterlist

A writer and formula one driver masterlist

Charles' family was determined to meet you. They had heard so much about you from Charles, and they wanted to meet the person who had Charles wrapped so tightly around their fingers.

It had started with Charles constantly smiling down at his phone. Immediately shutting it off whenever someone got too close. Then it was him tentatively showing them a photo. A photo you didn't know existed. Your hair and eyes are wild as you sit hunched over your laptop in your PJs, trying to get the idea written down before it disappears.

It was either the second or third night that you had stayed over at Charles. And at about three o'clock in the morning, you woke up in a daze. Dashing to your computer to write down an idea that had come to you.

In your hast, you had managed to accidentally wake Charles. But instead of being angry at you, he had instead followed you in a sleepy haze. Interested to see what had gotten you so worked up. And he had been awarded with one of his favourite picture of you. A picture of you in your element doing what you loved

His mum had cooed at it. Saying how adorable you looked and how in love Charles must have been to follow you and take the photo.

Arthur and Lorenz, on the other hand, had teased him. Masking their interest as amusement. Taking the mickey out of Charles.

When Charles had immediately leapt to your defence, ignoring the fact that they were also making fun of him, they knew you were the one.

"How do you feel about meeting my family, ma Cherie?" Charles spontaneously asked you. As you sat cuddled into his side.

Slightly startled by the sudden question, it took you a moment to process it. "I would love to meet your family." You smile at him. Flattered that he felt ready to take this next step with you.

"Perfect, Charles grind. "We are meeting them for supper this evening."

"What?" You yell, lurching away from him.

"What's wrong, mon amour." Charles questions unsurely

"Tonight?" you squawked out. "You want me to meet your family tonight!"

"Yes?" Charles questions. Unsure what the fuse was.

"You haven't given me enough warning!" You complain, bounding out of your seat and running to the bathroom for a shower.

Thankfully you end up getting ready in time. Charles watches as you run around getting ready. Trying to assure you that his family won't mind that you don't have any gifts for them.

You still aren't very impressed with Charles when you make it out the door.

When you make it to the restaurant, Charles accidentally reveals that he had booked this ages ago, which had been planned long in advance. You were just the last to know.

You hadn't been sitting for long before the rest of his family arrived. When Pascal spots you, she gives off a little squeal. Rushing forwards to wrap you up in a hug.

When she lets go, she gently grips onto your shoulders. "We have heard so many nice things about you." She tells you, a motherly smile on her face.

"And I you." You tell her shyly. Your checks warming under her gaze.

When Pascal releases you, you are greeted by Arthur and Lorenzo sizing you up. Slightly deflating under their gazes, you stick your hand out for them to shake. They both stare at it for half a second before Arthur grabs your hand, giving it a firm shake before letting you go and finding a seat. Lorenzo then does the same.

Turning to Charles, you look at him with terrified, pleading eyes. Unbeknownst to you. Charles has already kicked his brother under the table, and Pascal is warning them with her eyes.

Taking your seat beside Charles, your hand darts out. Grabbing his as you give it a tight squeeze. Charles squeezed back. Though not as tightly. Assuring you that you will be okay.

Taking a deep breath, you proper for what is to come. As though sensing your nerves, Pascal asked you a simple question. Sweeping you into a conversation. The further through which, the more you feel yourself relax.

"So, how did you and Charles meet?" Arthur suddenly asks.

"At a book signing." You tell his family. Who immediately look surprised at that. You guess that they weren't expecting something a bit more glamorous. Maybe in an F1 paddock or a nightclub. Not a cosy bookshop.

"Who was it?" Lorenzo asked this time.

"Me." You answer sheepishly. "Charles came to my book signing, and I met him there."

"Really?" Pascal asks, shocked. Suddenly she repeated your full name to you as if releasing something. "I'm a massive fan." She suddenly tells you. "I introduced Charles to your books." Laughing, she shakes her head. "I just hadn't thought that you would be the same person. I hadn't made the connection."

"That's okay." You assure her. "I was so far out of context I never would have expected you to make the connection." Then you leave forwards. A conspirative tone comes across your face. "Which one is your favourite?" You ask her, a mischief glint in your eyes.

Pascal looks at you. A pondering look on her face. "I couldn’t tell you." She ends up admitting. "That's like being asked to pick a favourite child."

At that comment, all her sons immediately claim that it is them. Sending you and Pascal into a fit of laughter as the boys begin to bicker about who is the favourite. Pascal then turns to you. A soft accepting smile on her face. When you blink, the look is gone, and instead, Pascal launches into a discussion about your books. A debate that only a true fan could embark on.

And at that moment, you know that you fit in here. The sound of your boyfriend and his brother bickering in the background as you and his mum debate about books. You definitely weren't going anywhere any time soon.

#F1 #Charles Leclerc #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #x reader #Imagine

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kikufuku01 · 1 year

Text

I Love You Always

Sukuna x Reader

Part 10 Dancing on Your Own ♡ ♡ ♡ Part 11 Toxic in You series m. list

Reblogs likes and comments are appreciated!

Taglist is open, just message me if you'd like to be tagged in upcoming posts! Must be 18+!

It hasn’t been the same since. Sukuna acts like he’s fine with you when you’re around the others, but now his eyes don’t linger on you. He barely starts a conversation with you, shit, he talks to Kazuya more than he does with you. Kaede thought it was weird but you told her it was nothing. Just friends outgrowing each other due to hanging out too much in the past. They don’t seem exclusive yet either, so it’s safe to say that they’re still talking? You don’t know, but you’ve been trying to drown yourself in Kazuya as much as possible. You’ve been ditching Kaede’s group invites, saying that you and Kazuya were already busy, and when he’d try to join them, you would tell him to give them some space.

Another thing is, you’re completely dreading today. It just feels like it’s gonna be a bad day. You’re pushing the cart around the store with an empty mind while your mom adds things in. She’s on the phone with your dad, talking about work or whatever, so you’re just left alone to follow aimlessly.

“Did you want this, sweetheart?”

She’s holding a pack of Himemaru rice crackers in the air to get your attention. You barely look at them, “sure.”

Just like that, she drops them in the cart and continues her conversation on the phone. Nothing in particular catches your attention since you don’t seem to have much of an appetite lately. You wouldn’t call it depression either, that’d be going overboard. You just miss how things were before.

Your mom taps your arm, “are you alright these days? You’re not grabbing all the snacks you usually eat.”

“I’m on a diet,” you lie, turning into the next aisle.

She stops you right there and crosses her arms, a worried look in her eyes. They search you for answers before she opens her mouth again, “you know, before I was afraid you were eating too much and now…”

Her nervous smile quivers, “you’re not eating and it’s a drastic change. These are also signs of pregnancy, sweetheart. You’ve been going out a lot and staying out during late hours, I’m afraid of what you’ve been doing.”

“Mom–”

“I’m not stupid. I was your age once too, you know. I know that you’re having fun, but I just wish for you to be safe. Your father hasn’t caught on, but I am concerned. How about after we shop, I take you to the clinic to get a checkup?”

“I haven’t done those things yet, so there’s nothing to be scared of. We’ll just waste our time going over there.”

The attitude in your tone takes your mom by surprise but she nods in defeat, “you sound like you’re telling the truth, then.”

You stick your tongue out at her to lighten the mood, “let’s just finish this up and go back home.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Your dad has been walking on eggshells around you as well over the last few months. He doesn’t speak to you any different, but maybe he too can pick up on your shift in mood. Is it really that drastic? Surely you’ve always been a grump, so what’s the big difference?

“I’ll take those,” he says as he takes the groceries from your hands.

You allow him to take them and follow him into the kitchen to help sort out the items. Your mom also comes in to help, leaving out what she’ll make for dinner.

“Will you be joining us?”

You look at your dad with a shrug, “I think I have plans with someone, so I’m not sure.”

He juts his lips but nods understandably, “you are going out with a female friend or male?”

“It’s a mix of both genders. We’re a group of people.”

“Shouldn’t you introduce us so that we know who you’re with?”

“It’s not necessary, so no.”

You give him stern eyes and head towards your bedroom. You’re annoyed by people constantly prying into your life. You don’t want them to meet Kazuya because they’ll misunderstand what he is to you, and you most certainly do not want them to meet someone like Sukuna. They’ll only judge, because that’s all they do. Especially your mom.

Since you’re bored, you decide to change out of what you’re currently wearing and put something else on. “I’ll be back later,” you shout as you close the door behind you.

Your feet guide you through the area you first saw Sukuna. He’s not there anymore, obviously. The spot is now taken over by a guitarist, playing his heart out to make some extra cash. The tune sounds nice to your ears, but it does strike a couple of heartstrings. A grin appears on your lips as you dig into your wallet, grabbing a single twenty. You diligently place the bill in his guitar case and back up into the rest of the crowd again to listen.

The man sends you a gracious smile and tips his head at you, “thank you~”

Your hands come out in front of you and wave, “don’t mention it.”

The man leans towards a smaller build, with soft fluffy hair and delicate looking hands. He’s pretty, but you can tell he’s fairly young, possibly mid-teens. He’s completely different from Sukuna– why are you even comparing the two? You snap out of your own thoughts and turn around to leave the crowd. Probably wasn’t a wise choice to revisit such a nostalgic area.

You shove your airpods in and blast music to drown out the real world while you walk to the next destination. It doesn’t take you too long, but you push through the doors and approach the hostess, “hi, I’m sorry, do you know if Mastuyama Kazuya is working today?”

She beams brightly and bows a bit, “oh yes, his shift should be over in a few hours. Let me get him for you, he’s in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he greets, coming out from the back.

“Just thought I’d visit you for a bit,” you reason, “sorry, is it rush hour for you?”

Kazuya titters softly, “you’re fine, the kitchen can handle it.”

You push your hair behind your ear as you speak, “I’ll just be a second. I know you’re busy, so are we still going to the movies later tonight?”

“About that…” he trails off.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearms and pouts a bit, “I must be famous today. Sukuna and Kaede came to visit not too long ago.”

“Did they?”

You’re not sure as to why he’d bring them up, but you listen anyway.

Kazuya gestures towards a table, “yeah, they finished their meal like half an hour ago.”

“What do they have to do with our plans later?”

“Matsuyama, we need you back on the stove,” an employee says as he pokes his head out.

Kazuya nods hurriedly at him, “I’ll be right there.” He gently pinches your cheek, “they invited us to the club tonight and I kind of agreed without thinking. Don’t be too mad, okay? I gotta go, so I’ll see you tonight. See ya!”

“But–”

A fat sigh blows past your lips at the sight of him rushing back into the kitchen. Damn, you knew today felt shitty for a reason. Clubbing? With Sukuna? In a place where alcohol is involved? Not that you have to drink, but the environment is giving you flashbacks of that night, and it’s not bright. You will admit, there are times when you have dreams of that night and it drives you crazy! It’s that guilty conscience of yours…

Maybe you can find a way out of this, right?

♡ ♡ ♡

Kaede keeps blowing up your phone about tonight’s plan. She wants to know what you’ll wear, how you’ll do your hair etc. You’re not answering her much, just giving her short responses. Do you sound like a bitch? Probably. Do you care? Not really. Everything in your closet seems too bland and stupid but you managed to figure something out. It wasn’t anything too flashy, since you still have to see your parents, but enough to get you into the club.

You’re outside the gate, waiting for Sukuna’s car. He decided it’d be cheaper and safest to just use his chauffeur and who are you to argue against that? There’s a mix of emotions that you’re feeling as you wait, but the most defined one is anger and irritation. You don’t want to see Sukuna and Kaede flirt, mainly because you’ve been getting those flashbacks. Shit, you can barely look them in the eyes.

Right as you’re thinking this, you see the familiar black car pull up. It stops right in front of you and the passenger window rolls down.

“Get in,” he spits out coldly.

You barely catch it. That’s how low it is. Loud enough just for you to hear. He’s not even looking at you, he’s just staring straight ahead, and you want to smack that big ol’ head of his. You want to shove your hand through the window and fuck up his stupid, gelled back hair. Does he realize how stupid he looks? Okay, he doesn’t look stupid at all, you’re just being petty, but that’s okay!

You groan and open the back door to see both Kazuya and Kaede. They smile at you and shower you in compliments, ones that go in your ear and out the other. You’re only focusing on the back of his stupid pink hair. He got his roots retouched, how conceited. Ugh, and his cologne is too overwhelming. It makes your stomach churn.

“You doing okay?”

Kazuya’s eyebrows are pointed upwards in a worried way as he examines your sour face. Upon realization, you fix your face and hum, “peachy.”

You look at what Kaede is wearing and you instantly feel insecure. The feelings you feel, it’s the same as when you introduced Kaede to Sukuna. Why do you keep feeling this way? It’s annoying. Her hair is loosely curled, her makeup is done smokey, complimenting the dress she has on and her heels are sexy and strappy. Her charisma is even crazier tonight.

“You look sexy,” you compliment, sending a wink her way, regardless of the bad feelings inside.

Kaede giggles and shies away, “stop~ you’re teasing me.”

Your focus then turns towards Kazuya and your fingers land on the sleeves of his shirt, “you look great too, Kazuya.”

No one sees the red hues that glare through the rearview mirror, you’re all much too focused on your own little conversations, blabbing about this and that. Sukuna’s jaw tightens at the sight of you and he ignores the way your laugh sends shivers down his spine. You’re a fucking ungrateful bitch, that’s what you are.

Thankfully the ride isn’t too long. You’re all dropped off in the middle of the street and left to wait in line for the club. Kazuya is walking in front with Sukuna while Kaede holds your arms for support. It wasn’t too wise of you guys to pregame in the car, but it already happened, so.

“Where are you going?”

You call out with a glare and Sukuna barely looks back at you, “to the front.”

Kazuya spits out short apologies to the people you’re all cutting and taps Sukuna, “shouldn’t we be waiting in the back?”

“I work here,” Sukuna says, smiling his best.

Oh, that’s right. Sukuna works as a bartender at a club. This must be the place. Why didn’t it click in your head sooner?

Kaede’s grip on your arm is so tight that you feel like your arm will snap off. You’re about to say something to her, but Sukuna reaches out for her and takes her from you, “come here.”

He greets the bouncer and whispers something in their ear. They don’t even hesitate to let you all through, and as crazy as it is, you smile at Kazuya with excitement and raise your eyebrows, “I guess we don’t gotta pay.”

“Does that mean we get free drinks too?” Kazuya jokes, pulling you closer to him as the music begins to blare louder.

Sukuna chuckles, “that, you gotta pay for.”

You promised yourself not to drink too much, in fear you might slip up. Kaede and Sukuna, however, have been taking shots left and right. Their tab must be huge. Kazuya is the only one completely sober, but he’s having fun regardless, dancing with no shame. He’s fun to be with, at a time like this. You’re trying too, you are.

In order to distract yourself, you continue to dance with Kazuya, but not in a sensual way. Just goofy moves and whatnot. You’re not too sure how long it’s been, but maybe you guys have been here for two hours already. You’ve lost the other two in the crowd, so it helps to keep you distracted.

There’s just one thing… luck is never on your fucking side!

Kazuya reaches into his back pocket and leans towards your ear, shouting, “I gotta take this!”

You follow him towards the bathroom area and wait for him there to avoid separation. You pray that it’s a useless phone call, but something in your gut tells you otherwise. Approximately six minutes pass and Kazuya comes back out with a sorry smile.

There’s dread in your eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?”

He thins out his lips and gives you a soft caress before leaning towards your ear to shout, “sorry, y/n, but I just got a call from work. Someone had to go home suddenly and no one else could cover their shift.”

“But it’s almost eleven–”

His eyes shut, “I know, I know, but our restaurant stays open until 1am and they don’t have another chef. I’m sorry, y/n.”

You bite your tongue and huff, “it can’t be helped.”

Kazuya frowns too, since he feels sorry for having to suddenly abandon you, “I can help you search for the others before I leave–”

“Just go,” you blurt, your chest swelling with the action.

When you see the hurt in his face, you apologize, “sorry, it’s not your fault. It’d be better if you arrived over there quickly. I’ll look for them myself.”

You’re both shouting over the music, but you can hear each other clearly. He looks around the club once more before pulling you into a hug, “I’ll see you later, y/n.”

“Yeah,” you mutter against his chest.

♡ ♡ ♡

So, you might’ve had a few more shots. Just three more. Your vision isn’t fucked up, but your anger has subsided. Oh, you’re also dancing way more, now that you’re here by yourself, but it’s still fun. You get a couple of guys and girls here and there, but they know the drill, they don’t stay too long. In all honesty, you’ve kind of forgotten all about the other two people you came with.

That was, until… You’re shouting over the music with a random group of people you’ve found. It’s a mix of both women and men, mainly consisting of women. They know how to party, how to have fun. You watched them take body shots off of each other and when they offered you, you quickly denied, “it’s okay, I can’t get too drunk!”

“Awh, maybe next time then,” one of the men suggests, giving you a cute pout.

Though he suggests it, neither of you bother to exchange socials; his words nothing but empty. You sway to the loud music and look around, your eyes scanning over hundreds of faces but… you see him. You see him anywhere. You see him in the midst of the crowd, no one but him. It’s not because of his bright pink hair, it’s not because of his tattoos. You see him because he is Ryomen Sukuna.

All of your movements still instantly as you watch what’s in front of you. He’s stuck in the middle of a crowd with rowdy people, but in his arms is a very drunk Kaede. Her eyes are closed as she grinds her hips against his, her arms lifted and wrapped around his neck as a way to help support herself, even though he’s got both palms planted on her hips. Their faces are so close that it’s almost like they’ll kiss, and it sparks a fire in your chest. You feel it all at once while your head spins at the sight. Your chest stings, your heart falls, your face feels heated, and your heart is pounding so hard against you that it hurts. There’s a stupid, fat lump in your throat as you continue to watch them dance with each other.

His expensive silk shirt is unbuttoned, like always, and you see the way Kaede’s nose dips closer to his bare skin. Will she lick him? Sniff him? They’re dancing so sensually. Are they both drunk? Is he taking advantage of her? Are they together? Have they done more than this? A million questions race through your head as you stomp through the crowd, not caring that you rudely bump into people.

With hate filled eyes, you march over and shove a random girl out of your way. You’re so focused on your own heightened emotions that you don’t care if you get into a fight. She glares at you, “what the fuck is your problem?!”

You ignore her and continue to push through. Without thinking, you grab Sukuna’s wrist and yank him away from Kaede, making them both stumble.

“What the fuck are you two doing?! Are you fucking out of your minds?!”

The poor girl is much too intoxicated to understand the situation, only reaching out to grab Sukuna’s hand while her head leans on his back for support. He looks down at you coldly, “what?”

Fuck, you’re too stunned to speak now. Where did all that anger go? It seems to have disappeared the moment he laid eyes on you. His eyes pierce through you so harshly. His nostrils flare as his patience runs out and he steps back to grab Kaede by her waist. He then proceeds to use his other hand to grab at your forearm harshly, choosing to drag you guys to the bar. He quickly waves over one of the bartenders, “this girl is with me. Make sure to have someone watch over her in the back room.”

“Don’t take too long, can’t guarantee that boss will let her stay.”

Sukuna sighs in annoyance, “tell him she’s with me. He won’t care.”

He doesn’t wait for the other guy’s response and continues to drag you. You’re a bit scared with how shady the door looks, but he drags you out and you realize that you guys are in an alleyway. Sukuna’s chin rises, “what the fuck was that all about?”

You glare up at him as he continues, “I was hitting it off with Kaede. Why’d you do all of that?”

“I’m worried,” you stupidly admit.

You hate how weak you sound. You hate how unconfident you’re feeling from just his gaze.

Sukuna scoffs out loud at you, “worried about what? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He steps closer to you, “for you to be with Kazuya without needing to worry about me? You set me up with Kaede and now you’re concerned?”

His face leans down, hovering over yours as a petty smirk draws itself on his lips. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode. You raise your chin pridefully, scoffing at his attitude, even though you had one first, “jeez, you must really like her. I didn’t think you’d be that upset about it.”

“Well, I am,” he quickly replies. There’s spite laced in his voice.

You blink a few times at his confirmation, and it seems to calm your sudden burst of anger. What used to be irritation morphs into something of shame and you lower your face a bit, “sorry for acting out then. Go back to her.”

You want to leave. You want to go home and cry. You want to be anywhere but here. You’re already turning around to walk away from him but he calls out angrily, “we’re not done talking, y/n.”

You hate the way he says your name.

“I think we are,” You’re only a few steps away from him, “you can go back to being touchy with her.”

Sukuna groans to himself, his voice becoming more stern, “I said we weren’t done talking. Stay still and look me in the eyes.”

You turn around to face him, “it’s fine, it was a spur of the moment.”

You motion towards the heavy door, “let’s just go back, she’s probably worried about you.”

With heavy footsteps, you try to get past him. Sukuna has other plans. He stops you and steps in front of you again, “y/n, I’m serious. Tell me what that shit was about. You had no fucking right to do that, to her or me.”

“I–”

Why are you getting choked up? It fucking sucks. This shit fucking sucks! What the fuck are you even doing? Why were you so mad in the first place?

Sukuna’s expression mocks you, a sneer on his face, “what, you can’t talk now? All of a sudden, the words can’t come out of your throat?”

He brings his hand up to your face and his thumb grazes your bottom lip gently, “you seemed to do just fine earlier when you were telling us off.”

There’s a stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes. Ah shit, don’t tell me it’s tears. What are they? Angry tears? Sad? Hurt?

Sukuna chuckles deeply, his thumb still on your lip, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry now.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you say as you swat his hand away from you.

You quickly spin around to walk, hoping that you get to the end of the alley quickly. Sukuna’s heavy feet only take two steps forward before stopping, “get back here, right now.”

When you don’t listen, he raises his voice, “Ichihara y/n, I’m not playing with you.”

The seriousness in his tone has you stilling. Your mind is yelling at you to keep going, so why did you stop? Again, you turn around to face him, “I don’t know, Sukuna. I don’t know why I did that.”

Sukuna’s long strides get him close to you again and there’s a heavy frown on his lips, “yes, you do. I know you do.”

He heaves a sigh, mostly for himself, and then stares into your eyes. For a brief second, there’s worry in them.

“Look, let’s just take a deep breath together, okay?” he suggests, raising a brow.

Without needing to countdown, you both inhale and exhale together. He hums expectantly, “now tell me what’s wrong.”

The reason why you were so angry? Well, you don’t want to believe it.

“Sukuna, I–” the tears fall past your eyes, cascading down your cheeks, “I’m really jealous.”

His eyes widened. They widened and then his gaze turned into something bitter, “why are you saying this to me?”

He backs away from you, “why are you telling me this? Why now?”

More tears fall as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, “I’m really jealous when you’re with Kaede, Sukuna.”

“Don’t say that shit to me,” he spits out, “what about Kazuya, hm? Weren’t you so sure you liked him? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes turn cold as well, looking at him with hate, “I didn’t realize I liked you this much!”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches at your confession, his fists balling so tight that his knuckles turn white.

You continue with a shaky voice, “I wasn’t sure if what we had was platonic or not–” your voice breaks, “so I chose Kazuya because he was the safest option.”

He shakes his head at you, seething as he does so, “you had months to figure it out, y/n. Months.”

Your heart throbs.

“Okay, I get it! You’re mad and I feel stupid and embarrassed, so just go back to Kaede already.”

You turn around and begin to speed walk, not caring if you just ruined your entire relationship with Sukuna. He, however, has other plans, choosing to chase after you. He spins you around violently, “no, don’t try to pull this shit on me. You’re fucking manipulating me.”

“I’m not!”

You try to pry his hands off of you with your own but you’re too weak. He won’t budge no matter how much you try.

You weakly shove him away, only moving yourself with the action, “I told you why I made a scene and now you’re just upset! I’m embarrassed, and I would just like to go home.”

Sukuna’s phone makes a notification sound and he quickly pulls his phone out to look at the text. He releases you with a glare, “Kaede texted me, I’m going back.”

It takes everything in him to not hug you, to not comfort you and kiss you. He’s so angry with you. You’re hurt? Well so is he. His chest heaves heavily while he tries to calm his heart, “get home safe.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” you spit out, looking away from him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, “and I didn’t need to hear that shit from you either but look what happened.”

He shoves his phone back into his pocket, “whether you choose to text me when you get home or not is on you, I don’t care.” He turns around, “see ya.”

♡ ♡ ♡

You don’t remember how you got home. All you know is that you turned your phone off after catching a cab. Gosh, you’re so stupid. All of this shit is your fault. If you weren’t so stupid, indecisive and moody then none of this would’ve happened. You were too embarrassed to show yourself in front of your parents, so you crawled through your window.

After lazily locking it, you plopped down onto the bed and curled up into a ball. All of these raw emotions make you feel ugly inside and it hurts a lot. You see flashes of the look in his eyes and yours close immediately, refusing to relive the moment.

You knew about your feelings. You knew this whole time; you just didn’t want to believe it. Now that you’ve told him, you feel much smaller in the world. Your heart feels like it’s been smashed to bits and pieces and don’t even get started on Kaede. How will you ever look her in the eyes again? No, what will you say to Kazuya? He’s not the one your heart yearns for, he’s far from it, no matter how much you try. He’s such a sweet man, but he’s not who you want.

After lying in bed for a few hours, you pushed yourself up and gathered fresh clothes. You heard your parents go to bed hours ago but you were too drained to move earlier. You strip and wait for the water to turn hot, getting in once you’re satisfied with the heat. The thing that sucks is the fact that you can’t focus on anything. All you see is the disgust and hatred in his eyes.

You feel dirty.

A soft whimper falls from your lips as you begin to scrub your body harshly, hoping to get rid of the feeling. No matter how much you scrub and scratch, you can’t get the dirty feeling off. If Kaede found out about your feelings, would she hate you too? This is exactly why you refused to believe in your feelings for Sukuna. She’s always shown her interest in him; she was never discreet. You let yourself sink and hug your knees while the water pelts you.

You’re the worst kind of friend. Who in the fucking world begs the man that their friend is interested in to take them to a party, proceeds to get drunk together and then fucking makes out, almost leading to sex? Only bad friends. The worst part is you begging him to keep quiet about it, because you knew it was wrong. How dare you continue to hang out with her and act as if nothing ever happened. But, you’re a coward. You can’t fess up. You don’t want to lose another friend. You let yourself cry for a few more minutes before sucking it up and ending your shower.

The bed feels colder than usual. You feel like the loneliest person in the world. It’s funny though, since you did this to yourself. You’ll continue to talk to Kaede until she eventually finds out, because you’re a coward like that. Yeah, that’s what you are.

♡ ♡ ♡

You wake up with a headache. It must be from all the stupid crying but you push yourself up and force yourself to get through the day. You still haven’t turned your phone on, as you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Your everyday morning routine is done with ease, even with a blank mind. When you roam into the dining area, your mom jumps up.

“I thought you weren’t home. We waited all night for you,” she says while adding breakfast to a plate that’s now meant for you.

“I came home quietly.”

You take the plate from her and place it at the table, moving to help her set up everything else. She squints her judgy eyes at you, “your eyes are red and puffy.”

“Oh, she might’ve just had fun last night.”

Your dad’s voice interferes and he pops into the room with a smile. He’s obviously trying to get her off of your back, but she continues to poke at you, “or she was crying. What happened?”

“I drank a lot.”

Your unfiltered comment has your parents at a loss for words and you laugh, “I’m being responsible so please stop treating me like I’m some child.”

The breakfast that your mom cooked might’ve been really tasty but you can’t seem to taste a single thing. It’s all bland to you, sadly. You feel their eyes on you. It’s annoying. With wavering patience, you place your utensils down and stand, “I’m done.”

Their whispered argument goes on deaf ears as you walk back into your room to get ready. You do your makeup as quickly as possible and then turn your phone on. There’s a message or two from Kaede and she’s apologizing for getting too drunk. Does she even know what happened last night? You don’t have the heart to respond, so you turn off your read notifications and leave her unanswered. Kazuya’s messages are just him apologizing for leaving early. You give him a short response but that’s all. Sukuna hasn’t messaged you at all, and that’s something you should probably get used to.

Anyways, you need to end things with Kazuya. You can’t continue to lead him on like this, and you should probably tell him the truth. It’s the least you can do for him. You asked to meet up with him after work and he agreed in an instance. Now all that’s left is the waiting game.

It’s not as easy to distract yourself when you’re panicking over what to say and how you’ll say it. He’s such a sweetheart that you might break and cry while telling him everything. He’d probably even question why you’re the one crying when it should be him… Oh god, you seriously need to pull yourself together before you make any situation worse.

For hours, you practiced what you would say to Kazuya so you wouldn’t stutter for words. You looked into a mirror and trained your facial expressions so that you’d be less tense in front of him. You even imagined the pained expression that he would hold when you broke the news to him, but you still felt horrible when doing so. Kazuya truly is a soft soul and a great friend. You’d hate to lose him, but you know he’ll be gone. You’ll be left alone for a long time too, since Kaede and Sukuna won’t stay by you after this either.

It’s already a little past 6pm and you’re on your way to meet Kazuya. He chose a small coffee shop since he wanted some caffeine. You stop in front of the door and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the last time. Just like before, you force a smile and pull the door open, the little bell dinging above your head.

“Welcome in,” you hear the employee greet. You suck in a breath and lock eyes with Kazuya who waves you down. He looks different today, almost as if he knows something. Yes, he’s smiling, but it’s forlorn. You walk to him and sit down, nervously accepting the warm drink he offers you.

“I went ahead and ordered for you too,” he says while retracting his hand.

“Thanks.”

It’s a dry reply. Oh god, you feel terrible. Kazuya taps the table with the pads of his fingers, “listen, about last night, I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, maybe a little too fast, “it’s fine, seriously. I–”

He cuts you off, “you wanted to talk to me, I know. So, what is it?”

“Uh…”

Shit! All those hours of practicing went to fucking waste! Why can’t you speak up? Are you just stupid and useless? Is that it? He deserves to know the truth, so why can’t you stop being a coward and speak up? You called him to talk, so talk.

Kazuya’s hand slides across the table and he gently holds your index finger. Only that finger. You appreciate how he still respects your space and boundaries, even after all those months of you basically leading him on. He rubs his finger over your smooth nail polish and he shoots you a kind smile, “you have pretty hands.”

“You always say that.”

A grin stretches as you recall the many times he’s complimented them. No matter what color or length, he’d always comment on it. The memories are bittersweet as well, and you’re a bit upset at yourself for even smiling at a time like this. Kazuya’s other hand brushes through his hair, revealing his forehead as he does so.

“It’s about time you smile at me, timid girl.”

Your face turns red, mainly from embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Kazuya.”

He lets go of your finger and grabs his cup, drinking the warm beverage. When he’s done, he looks back at you, “It’s alright, y/n. I think I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

Your voice is small. You hate it. How can Kazuya keep smiling at you?

“I’ve been trying for months, y/n. I’m not clueless.”

Your head falls, “I’m sorry.”

The fact that you don’t deny him only proves his theory. Kazuya didn’t know for sure, but now his questions and doubts are confirmed. He tries not to let it show and instead keeps smiling at you, “I told you that I noticed how you changed here and there over time, but I didn’t want to bother you about it in case you were also figuring yourself out.”

Kazuya becomes quiet for a short while but then continues, “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but after I saw Sukuna’s wallpaper, everything just kind of clicked. You’re not a good liar either, y/n, but I like that about you. It makes you kind of cute.”

You laugh again, because you don’t know what to say. All you know how to say is ‘sorry’ and you’re sure that Kazuya doesn’t want to keep hearing that from you.

Everything about him is calm, from the way he looks at you, to the way he speaks. He seems completely fine on the outside, but he’s screaming at himself internally. He wants to break down and cry because he does truly like you, but what good is it if the person you’re interested in just can’t find it within themselves to like you back. His right leg bounces quickly under the table, but you don’t know that.

Kazuya suddenly leans over the table to tap your hand, mainly to get your attention, “I really liked you and I hoped that we could work out, but I understand. Thank you for trying anyway, y/n.”

There’s a small, teeny tiny weight that lifts from your chest, “is this really okay with you, Kazuya?”

“Mmm… no hard feelings, promise.”

Poor guy… he’s flashing you such a pretty smile but you can see the tears welling in his eyes. You only have yourself to blame for this. If you were honest from the beginning then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. You tilt your head up at Kazuya when he pulls on your finger.

“It’s always been him, huh?”

Does he seriously want an answer to that? It would only hurt him more… You see the expectant expression though, so you nod with shame, “I didn’t want it to be him, I swear. He just snuck his way in.”

Kazuya lets your finger go and slowly slides his hand back towards himself, “but does he like you?”

He already knows the answer. Even a blind man can see just how much you two pine for each other; he just wishes you were more honest with yourselves.

You clench the cup a bit tighter, “I’m sorry.”

His expression softens quickly, “for what?”

“I’m sorry for not seeing you in a romantic way, Kazuya.”

Oh my god. That’s the worst kind of thing to say. Please, shut the fuck up.

You’re expecting him to cry, but he bursts out laughing, a hand flying over his mouth to try and hide it. When you furrow your brows at him, he dips his head and takes a minute to collect himself.

“Don’t say things like that, you’ll make me feel small both emotionally and physically. Anyhow,” he snickers one last time to mask his sadness, “I’m rooting for you. I don’t know what’ll happen to you guys, since Kaede is also in the picture, but I’ll always be cheering you on. I hope you get your happy ending, timid girl.”

It’s odd. You hate Sukuna’s ‘halfie’ but you don’t seem to mind Kazuya’s ‘timid girl’. Is that weird?

Your lip quivers, “I’m sorry that I can’t love you in the same way.”

“Stop,” he teases, “you’ll make me cry. I’m trying to seem tough here.”

Kazuya stands from the table first and waits for you to get up. Like a gentleman, he assists you out of the cafe and holds the door for you.

“I guess we should stop our frequent meetups from here on out.”

He holds his arms open and you rush in to return his hug, holding him as tightly as you can. This is supposed to make you feel better, but you only feel like shit. Well, you are kind of shit, but there’s no need to continue berating yourself.

Ugh, fucking bitch. You’re crying. Kazuya’s soft chuckle vibrates against you while his hands rub your back soothingly, “this must’ve been a tough decision for you, y/n. I know it’s not easy, you did good.”

“I–” you get a bit choked up, but keep going, “I am truly sorry towards you, for not being able to feel the same way.”

Kazuya pulls his face back to look directly in your eyes, a tiny grin on his lips, “I told you that it was all okay. I understand completely, alright? Friends?”

Another fat tear rolls down your cheek, “yeah, friends.”

He rests his face against the side of your head before giving it a quick kiss, “talk it out with Sukuna, alright? He’s a cool guy.”

“He’s an ass, but I will.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Welp! That’s one problem gone. Now you’ve got another storm of problems to get over. How will you confront Sukuna and how will you tell Kaede without causing any more problems? She’s going to be upset, that’s unavoidable. The problem is how upset she’ll be. You’re not sure how far she and Sukuna have gone, but based on how they acted in the club, they might’ve gotten pretty far with each other. Afterall, Sukuna isn’t exactly an in-your-face type of guy, so if they are together then it’s on the downlow, and if that’s the case then it’s no wonder he got so upset with you. You curse under your breath at yourself. You should’ve just asked Kaede a month ago if she and Sukuna were exclusive. You remember the way he held her hips and how they grinded against each other. A shudder runs down your spine at the fact that they might be sleeping together already.

Shit. Whether you say something or not, you’re gonna lose. It’s a lose-lose situation for you regardless of what you do, and that fucking sucks!

“I’m fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

When you’re back in reality, you recognize the area. Your stupid feet have led you to the train tracks you used to hang out at. All those memories of you arguing with Sukuna over little things come flying by and you laugh to yourself while the rocks crunch beneath you. You also remember throwing salt at him all the time. Oh yeah. You haven’t done that in a long while. You keep going, choosing to walk on the actual tracks instead but as you get further, your heart seems to pulse faster. Your intuition tells you to turn and run, far away, but your feet won’t listen.

And, shit. What are the odds that you’d run into him here, today? Well, that’s exactly what the fuck just happened! Why is he here? Why is he sitting on the tracks with his back turned to you? His intoxicating scent fills your nostrils and you switch to breathing through your mouth, refusing to allow him in. His hair isn’t styled today, it’s left soft and untouched, blowing gently with the light breeze. You stand still and hold your breath, trying not to make too much sound but it’s too late.

“You’re always late, Kaede. Next time I’m ditching–”

Sukuna’s words are cut short when he turns around and finds you instead. Why the fuck are you here? Who the hell invited you? He hates that you still look beautiful.

All you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from before; it’s the way his eyes no longer hold any warmth for you. You should’ve taken advantage of those eyes back then, but who would’ve known that you two would end up like this so quickly. It’s just barely 7pm and the orange sky behind him suits him so well. It complements the pigment of his skin and blends in prettily with his artificial pink hair. If you were a bigger fool, you’d think that you were in hell with the devil himself. His aura and glare are enough to burn through your skin and you’re foolish, because you can’t seem to run away.

“You should probably get outta here, Kaede will be here soon,” he spits out, turning away so that he can no longer see you.

“Sukuna, about–”

He cuts you off, “you should also stop coming here, to all the areas we’ve hung out before. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to keep on running into each other.”

So what the fuck does that mean? Is he confirming that he and Kaede are together? Are they cutting you off? You’re really sick and tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

You’re quiet, so he goes on, “I’ll still be around when Kaede wants to hang out with you, but don’t expect too much. I’ll talk to you here and there so it doesn’t come off as weird, but I won’t get in yours or Kazuya’s way.”

You’re not ready for either of this. You were not expecting to run into Sukuna so soon and you don’t know what to say to him. You haven’t had the time to try and sort this shit out, so for it to come flying at you like this all at once has you overwhelmed. Right now, you wish a train would just come and run you over, but that’s not happening. Not anytime soon, at least.

You’re too quiet. Sukuna lazily tilts his head towards you and clicks his tongue at what he sees.

“Seriously? You’re crying now?” He snickers dryly, “you’re really fucking crying right now?”

A short sob falls from your lips, “can I not cry when my feelings are hurt?”

“No, you don’t get to cry.”

He closes the distance between you, “and don’t even think about trying to cry about this later. I won’t fall for it.”

Your mouth falls agape and you think about how none of this would’ve been a problem if he had just left you alone the second time you guys talked. You try to blink away the rest of your tears, “I never asked for this. I didn’t ask for you to stay by my side and cling to me.”

Sukuna thinks it’s funny, so he laughs in a spiteful manner. Weren’t you the one who came to bother him? Asking about his name and shit? Talking about always seeing him linger on the fucking streets?

“Oh, so now you’re ungrateful too, bitch.”

You shove him away on instinct, “would you stop that?”

His tongue comes out to poke at the corner of his mouth while he chuckles, “stop what? My sarcasm?” he steps closer again, towering over you, “why? Does it hurt you?”

“Yeah, it fucking hurts me, Sukuna,” you quietly admit, a new stream of tears slipping past your eyes.

When you think about your argument last night, your heart aches and you don’t want to feel this way anymore. You just want to get it over with. When you think about how he’s waiting for Kaede right now, your heart falls to pieces.

“Seeing you with her hurts my feelings. I’m jealous, really jealous.”

Everything cunning about Sukuna drops and he backs away from you, pushing his hair back in frustration, “you don’t get to feel that way! Not now, not ever.” His chest heaves heavily as he speaks to you, “what gives you the right to, hm? That you realized you liked me too late?”

He comes to you again but you don’t move, you don’t wince at his aggression. His red hues bore into yours, “what’re you gonna do about Kazuya, huh? Tell me.”

Just tell him. That’s all you need to do. Tell him that you ended things with Kazuya. As easy as it sounds like to do so, you can’t. You just ended things with him and even that hurt. You can still see just how much he was holding back, how hard he was trying to not cry in front of you. You remember how when you both parted ways, you turned around and saw his arms raise towards his face. He broke down when he was sure you were already walking away from him, and it made you feel like the shittiest person alive because he didn’t deserve that. And even if you could tell Sukuna, you’re more worried now than ever about the fact that he and Kaede might be dating. Everything he’s doing, all of this anger, it’s possible that he’s angry with you because you’re too late and they’re already together.

Sukuna’s irises flick back and forth all over your face as he waits for you to speak up. Why aren’t you saying anything? Why can’t you ever say anything?

“Stop fucking crying, y/n,” he says in a softer tone, more so to help himself calm down.

“This is stupid,” you say weakly, “I’m being stupid.”

You quickly wipe your eyes and turn around to leave. That’s better anyway because Kaede could show up at any moment.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he chases after you with long strides, “we aren’t done talking about this.”

“Well, I am.”

“Well I’m not, so get your ass back here before I lift you over my shoulder and drag you away myself.”

You still haven’t turned around, “that’s kidnapping.”

He stands right behind you, “I don’t give a shit, y/n. I’ll do it, you know I will.”

He’s not bluffing. You hate that you know. You take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Says the one causing problems.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

@lucyrocks86 @mykyoon @hxlalokidottir @wo-ming-bai @yourusernames @adoraspace

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #sukuna #sukuna fanfic #ryomen sukuna #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #alternate universe #slow burn

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khickuwa · 11 months

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My thoughts on “A Dream of Benji” - Luke’s Fluffy Fuzzy Time Card

so I had the privilege (or the misfortune, depends on how you’d view it lmao /lh) of getting and reading Luke’s new FFT card. I haven't seen anyone talking about it yet, and I have many thoughts about it so.... To anyone who hasn’t read it yet, beware I’ll be discussing spoilers (come back when you’ve read it please I promise you you won’t regret it) and as everyone else probably mention it’s probably best to read this after the FFT event (or at least after completing Benji’s route)

BUT I MUST SAY, this card has surprisingly became one of my favorite Luke cards (in terms of the art as well I mean look at THEM(tm) LAYING DOWN IN A MEADOW OF FLOWER... MISS ROSA LOOKS SO ESPECIALLY PRETTY HERE LIKE) right up there with Luke’s 1st anniversary card “Under the Milky Way” and Luke’s “Shape of You” card. I know everyone is probably saving up for the second anniversary (I really need to save up to I haven’t been playing as much last month) but if you do have the s-chips to get the card like... *grabs you in a chokehold* it’s so good. I promise you it’s really worth it.

Though disclaimer! These are just my thoughts (I’ve been up all night thinking about a virtual dog... Please I Am Not Okay) feel free to disagree! I’ll be discussing about character death and Luke’s illness, so if you ain’t good with that feel free to skip this!

Okay, moving on.

Hoyoverse. What the actual fuck. (YOU THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE A CUTE CARD? CUTE EVENT? TAKING CARE OF VIRTUAL ANIMALS? A FLUFFY FUZZY FUN TIME!?!? WRONG. ABSOLUTELY WRONG.) This whole card was so incredibly devastating and yet it’s so hopeful at the same time. They really hammered in the idea of “inevitability” and “hopeful anticipation” irt actualbird's journal of NXX Investigation Team Behavioral Studies. To me at least, this card is like everything that makes Luke... Luke... condensed into a card.

About Benji (you sweet sweet boy):

Immediately right in the first story, Benji is admitted into hospital and it’s very much obvious that... Benji, a retired 9-year old military dog, doesn’t have much time left.

Benji, obviously, is very much a parallel to Luke Pearce... As I was reading the card, Benji’s situation almost feels like a peek into of what could be Luke’s Future... what could become of Luke. Once great and majestic dog plowing through a vast field of snow, saving hostages along side other agent... now so frail, the wear and tear of old injuries, old age and illness is finally getting to Benji.

...and in Luke’s own words: “Is he still the same Benji from my memories.”

Luke and Rosa decides to take Benji into a dog park, where they hope to give Benji some sort of “freedom”... for Benji to finally some semblance of living life as a normal dog. It still had to be catered in a way that was familiar to Benji... and this is sort of scattered around through out between the event stories and the card. eg. making custom training dumbbells, planning training regiments, recreating a hostage situation. Even when Benji is retired, he's still yearning to go back... eg looking back to the direction of military base. Because in the end of the day, that’s all Benji Knows. His Whole Life has Always Been a Mission to Benji.

Then Mr. Henderson, a man in the dog park who's also grieving about his late dog, who's also a retired military dog. And while Luke was able to open up to this man, as both have/are going through the same grief. But MAN did that interaction cause Luke to spiral downwards.

Even in what I would say Benji’s last moments with Luke and Rosa, the way that Luke had to dismiss Benji of his “duty” this way. (I’m not okay, I’m not okay, THIS DIALOGUE WRECKED ME)

About Luke (ah here we go again):

After being subsequently punched multiple times in the face by “LOOK BENJI/LUKE PARALLELS, LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT!!!”

As I’m going “NO BENJI UWAH QAQ” every second through this card... I also can’t help but fear for Luke. It really made me think that... let’s say even if NSB drops Luke the moment he was diagnosed with the illness and three years left to live, I really do wonder if he would’ve been able to cope with it... or otherwise live with himself?

Luke as we know it, has this whole self deprecating deal of avoiding and hesitating happiness. The way I see it, he often times try to make himself seem "small" in a way, that he prioritizes other people's needs first before his own. And I would imagine the last thing he'd want for himself is to become a burden/useless. If one day Luke does retire from NSB, one would think that he'd be free... but not really either. I can imagine him being sort of like "what now?" (i can sort imagine luke entering this phase of adjusting back to normal life when he's back in Stellis. this brings me to the headcanon of luke's... questionable lifestyle is a product of Luke having to readjust to normal life /i’m sorry i made fun of your kitchen and my boy, you probably had to make do what with what you had.)

If think about Luke lying in a hospital bed, nearing the end of his life. I'm Going To Lose It (tm). But looking at Benji all old and sickly... I really can’t help imagine that IF it were to happen, it would probably go down the same way it did for Benji. (I Am Going To Cry)

Anyways, after the conversation with Mr. Henderson, Luke spirals down into thoughts of "if I didn't left you, would things have been different?", “we could’ve been happier, if only I had made the “right” choice. (and I wanna grab him by the shoulders and then scream at him “LUKE STOP BAD >:C”)

About Rosa (YOU GO GIRL SLAY):

NOW, HONESTLY. ROSA REALLY DO SHINE IN THIS CARD. HER RESPONSE TO BENJI. HER RESPONSE TO HER SAD LITTLE BOYFRIEND GRIEFING AN SPIRALING DOWN. THIS IS WHY SHE IS THE MC(TM) AAA

but more than that, this card somehow not only showcase her strengths but also how this somehow becomes a weakness as well (at least to me).

Rosa to me, comes off someone who really looks on straight ahead and her focus on what she can do in the present, in contrast to Luke’s tendency to focus on past regrets and uncertain tomorrows. I would argue that she also has this like- perseverance/stubbornness against adversities and I would say that her solutions also come off as very head on?. (could you imagine having to argue with your lawyer girlfriend, like nah... you ain’t winning for sure.)

(”But that’s for dogs” I’m laughing through TEARS OMG - Luke is Dog-Coded FR) But Rosa in here is really ain’t letting Luke go, forcing Luke to Actually Look into her Eyes and tell her What’s Wrong. (LukeRosa nose booping omg...this is how they comfort each other in my head from now on) Which yes, sometimes I think Luke does need someone who can hold him back before he retreats, but also at the same time... after this exchange, Rosa realizes that it’s not really quite enough to erase his worries. And I think this is also the exact moment Rosa realizes that not all problems could be solved immediately... sometimes you have to let time do its thing and just.. sit with it.

(Rosa calling in an animal psychologist... like did she just searched on up in the internet for consultation like pls Rosa) In Story 5 (I’d put in every screenshot from this part if I could), we go on the Benji’s “rescue mission”, I kinda enjoyed how Rosa does fumble a bit here and there... though with good intentions, perhaps the overly familiar environment was over-stimulating to Benji? which caused him to attack Luke somehow... But anyways... It seems that Benji still thinks that he’s on service and it’s not when Luke “dismissed” him of his “duties does Benji stop and Luke, just so full of grief, wondering why Benji couldn’t just forget the past. And Rosa really isn’t holding back with her words when she says:

“Why does Benji have to forget the past?” “

Have you ever thought that perhaps Benji is proud of himself for being a military dog?”

“You said before if Benji wasn’t a military dog, he could probably lead a happier life.”

“But Luke, you and I are not Benji, We can never understand Benji’s true feelings.”

“And we can’t just make wild guesses about whether Benji would have ended in a better situation if he had made a different choice...

“Because it will never happen”

Because it will never happen....

MISS ROSA I-

“But how are you sure a “perfect and flawless” choice exists in this world”

“Luke, are you sure that if one makes a different choice, one’s ending will be better?”

I just really love Rosa for this because she just so... incredibly focused in the present and taking one’s autonomy. And this is probably so reassuring to Luke (and to me) cause she’s basically saying “regardless of what happens, we will be fine.”

And I don’t think Rosa has ever blamed Luke for leaving, for having a dangerous job, nor for getting diagnosed with only 3-years left to live. SHE JUST LOVES HIM SO MUCH OUEUEUEUEUOOO!!! Even. EVEN. if Luke’s condition does turn for the worse, I really do think that Luke is in very VERY capable hands. AND THAT’S SO REASSURING TO ME? As much as I Really Don’t Want Luke to Die (Please Find A Cure For Him), but just the thought that Rosa is going to be there for him (just as he will be there for her) regardless of whatever happens to the both of them, it will always be the “best ending”.

I’m just so happy that Rosa’s answer to Benji’s case is really just to ensure that Benji lives the last few days of his life... happy. and IT’S SUCH A ROSA ANSWER PLS... Even with Luke as well, even with knowing all the risks of staying with Luke, she’d rather make the most out of the remaining time they have. But even so, she’s still so full of hope! “As long as we’re not at the end of the path, there’ll be boundless possibilities”

Luke is the Definition of Devotion, BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT ROSA? It’s so subtle, but I really can’t deny that Rosa does really really really love Luke too, in a way that she’s going to be there for him... for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. (HOLDS THEM BOTH IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS UUUUUOEOEOOEOE)

When Benji finally passes away peacefully in a quiet afternoon, with Luke and Rosa at his side, I really do think that this is the best ending for him. RIP Benji, you were the goodest boy.

#tot spoilers #chika rambles #Luke Pearce #lukerosa #tearsofthemis #on another note: luke's voice acting here. HEART WRENCHING.#i'm using korean dub #cause luke sounds the most gentle in korean to me at least #also reliving mystic messenger vibes...#but whenever his voice breaks i just wanna cry with him #anyways have I told you guys that I love them so much?#I love them so much #this almost sounds like a sponsored ad for Luke's FFT card but #omg it's so painful but so good #forgive me for any grammar mistakes/typos cause i really didn't structure this in anyways it's really just everything in my head plonked #down to the keyboard as i smash the keys with much much emotions

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minaramen · 1 year

Text

“That's Rabiccho, isn’t it?” - ŹOOĻ Drama CD / From Idolish7 Third Beat blue-rays Vol. 8

[Disclaimer: I’m NOT a professional translator. I’m using my knowledge from 4 years of university. Please, feel free to let me know if you notice mistranslation/typo/error of any kind] ***

*Door opens*

Touma: Hey, guys…

Haruka: Uhm

Torao: Hello

Minami: Hello, Inumaru san

Touma: What time do we start?*

Minami: We’re starting in 30 minutes

Touma: Got it

Torao:...uhm

Touma:....ahem

Minami:...

Haruka:....mpf

Touma: *sighs*

Torao:....

Minami….

Haruka:...

Touma: ENOUGH OF THIS SILENCE!

Haruka: Wah! You scared me!

Torao: What the hell are you doing?

Minami: Don’t start shouting out of nowhere, please

Touma: Well, what’s wrong with you?! Why aren't you saying anything?

Touma: Lately we haven’t been talking that much, don’t you think?

Torao: You think so? Anyway, I don’t really mind

Haruka: I’d say that there’s nothing we’re forced to talk about

Touma: Yeah, but...there must be something…!

Minami: We’ve always been meeting here to work, haven’t we? I would say we ran out of topics

Touma: We ran out of…

Torao: Do you want to talk with us that much, Touma?

Haruka: We’re not Idolish7, in case you didn’t notice. Do you really need to be so clingy? It’s stupid!

Touma: It’s not like I want us to be like Idolish7, but…

Torao: Speak of the devil…

Torao: This magazine is featuring Idolish7. Let’s see…

Torao: “Let’s all play together!” Funny Rabiccho

Torao: What’s a Rabiccho?

Touma: Ah, the one you can often see on CM? It’s like… a building when you can do many different things

Torao: Like what?

Touma: Mh? Oh, well… like, karaoke, or…ehm…

Haruka: Karaoke, gaming center, bowling,roller skates, basket…basically, it’s a huge place where you can have a lot of fun

Touma: Oh…

Torao: Oh…

Minami: You’re well informed, Isumi san

Haruka:...! D-don’t take me wrong! It’s just common knowledge among high schoolers! You know, before coming back from school…!

Torao: Ah, so you went there…

Haruka: That’s…! That’s… just until the entrance…

Torao: Until the entrance?

Minami: So you didn’t spend time inside?

Haruka:...

Minami: Oh, I guess you daringly tried to go there and play some games all alone, but you eventually turned back because it was too much of a hurdle?

Torao: Ahah, what the heck. Did you really slink off?

Haruka: Nh…!

Touma: Okay, stop, stop! Don’t pour salt on the wound! Just listening to you makes me feel sick

Haruka: Mpf, Rabiccho is not the right place for a cool guy like me, anyway! It may be good for people like Idolish7, who usually flock around like little kids!

Haruka: Torao, give it to me

Torao: Mh?

Torao: Uhm…this one?

Haruka: I don’t want that chocolate!!

Torao: Oh, do you want this other ? It’s unexpectedly good. It's the chocolate with alphabet letters imprinted you always find in dressing rooms. It’s wrapped in plastic, so it’s very easy to eat. I’m not sure about the brand, though.

Haruka: Ooh, yes, it’s amazing! It’s not so expensive, so there was always some at grandma’s hom…-not the chocolate! The magazine! Gimme it!

Torao: Ahah, how aggressive

Touma: What? Didn’t you just say you’re not interested at all in Rabiccho?

Haruka: I couldn’t care less, indeed! It’s just that I read this magazine’s horoscope every month!

Touma: Horoscope?

Torao: Why don’t you just ask Minami, instead?

Haruka: Well, Minami can’t guess your lucky colors and lucky spots…

Touma: Lucky colors…?

Minami: I can guess people’s lucky colors, actually

Haruka: What?? Really??

Minami: Yes. And lucky spots too

Torao: How can you guess such things? Do they just pop into your head?

Minami: Fufu. Well, since fortune-telling of all ages is statistics, it’s like telling the person you’re talking to what is most likely to have a positive impact on them

Touma: Oh…I see…

Torao: Did you really understand?

Touma: Mh? Yeah, I did!

Haruka: Who cares about Touma! Minami, read my fortune for today!

Minami: Yes, it’s fine with me. Shall I read Midou san and Inumaru san’s fortune as well?

Torao: Mh?

Touma: Yeah, why not?

Torao: Well, while I’m at it

Minami: Alright, let’s start from Midou san?

Torao: From me?

Haruka: Why are you starting from Torao?! I’ve asked you first!

Minami: So…Midou san,you’re Pisces and your blood type is 0, right?

Haruka:..I got ignored…

Minami: Men of your kind tend to be reasonable, kind and not possessive. Apparently, they have all the characteristic the society looks for when it comes to a lover

Torao: Well, that’s pretty accurate

Minami: However, on the flip side, they’ll welcome everything with open arms, but they won’t chase after what is leaving them. So we can deduce that it’s not easy for those men to have strong passions nor attachments

Haruka: Aaah….

Touma: That’s for sure

Torao: So what? Better than being clingy

Touma: Compared to that, it would be better to be clingy

Minami: Your lucky item is a ball. Your lucky spot is a place where you sweat. Why don’t you just try to play a sport with a ball and let your feelings ignite, once in a while?

Torao: Let my feelings ignite..? Well, doing sport is good after all. If I tone up my body, women may surround me even more

Touma: Yeah, but you’d have to rent a sports hall for that. Gym is basically all about weight training, and… tennis, maybe?

Haruka: …there’s Rabiccho.

Torao&Touma: Eh?

Haruka: You can do that at Rabiccho! I saw on a CM that you can play basket, futsal and things like that…oh… hey, I’m not saying that I want to go there!! I just said that one COULD do that at Rabiccho!

Touma&Torao: Ah…yes…

Minami: …fufu. Well, shall I go on? Inumaru san, you’re next

Touma: Me?

Haruka: B-but…! You skipped me again…!

Minami: So… Inumaru san, you’re Sagittarius and your blood type is A. Men of your kind tend to be cool and powerful at the same time. When you get interested in something, you take it very seriously. Also, you’re very responsible and accept to do things that other people don’t want to do

Touma: Wow, it sounds good!

Minami: However, you’re so focused on your interests that you heat up and cool down very easily, and you blame yourself for that

Haruka: Aaah…

Torao: That’s for sure

Touma: I don’t blame myself at all! I’m pretty cool, actually! I’m the strongest!

Haruka: What are you, a vending machine?

Touma: Okay, I must admit that’s a good one

Minami: Your lucky item is wheels and your lucky spot is somewhere you can run around, so why don’t you just try to go riding a bicycle or roller skates to free yourself from stress?

Touma: Uhm… running around is definitely de-stressing, but riding a bicycle or roller skates…

Torao: Shall l ask a skater acquaintance of mine where they go to practice? If there’s a place in the nearabouts, maybe…

Haruka:... Rabiccho!

Torao&Touma: Eh?

Haruka: I said, Rabiccho! You could do that there! There are some stores where you can do roller skates, and you can rent skates and… ugh, I’m not saying I want to go there! I just said that one COULD do that at Rabiccho!

Torao: Eheh

Touma: Y’know, you said the sam-

Haruka: I’m-just-saying

Torao&Touma: O-okay…

Minami: Well, you’re next, Isumi san

Haruka: Hooray! I mean…about time!!

Minami: Fufu… I apologize for keeping you waiting.

Minami: Well… you’re a Sagittarius and your blood type is B**. You’re a type who likes changes and challenges, and you’re a caring and friendly person

Torao:...friendly?

Touma:...friendly?

Haruka: So what?? It may look like this. I took care of Acchan when we were studying abroad, after all! Possibly…

Haruka:....maybe…

Minami: However, your preference for changing makes you complain a lot if you don’t have the time to get comfortable to it according to your own standards

Torao: Aaah…!

Touma: It’s not wrong!

Haruka: W-why would I complain about something I like?!

Minami: You lucky items are drinks and microphones. Your lucky spot is a private room. Why don’t you vent your frustration in a karaoke private room, singing your heart out with a drink in your hand?

Torao: Karaoke?

Touma: Ah, we don’t have to look much further for this one. For the moment you can just go to the karaoke box and…

Haruka: It’s definitely Rabiccho!

Torao&Touma: Eh?

Haruka: We can go to Rabiccho! Izumi and Yotsuba told me it’s fully equipped with basic karaoke systems, and there are also lots of drin-ugh…!

Torao: Ah, of course

Touma: Basically you heard the two guys from Idolish7 talking about it and now you want to go, right?

Haruka: N-not at all..! It’s just that they said there were great facilities and they had a lot of fun. I just got a little bit curious about how it was…

Torao: *phone calling* Hi, it’s me. I need to cancel our schedule for today…yeah… I’ll make it up to you next time

Touma: What time are we supposed to finish today’s recording? It wasn’t that late, if I remember correctly…

Haruka: Eh?

Touma: What? Let’s go. To that Rabbicho.

Haruka: Is this…really okay with you?

Haruka: But…you don’t have to come just out of pity

Torao: Well, it can’t be helped. It’s our lucky spots we’re talking about

Touma: Exactly. I can barely think about a place to go for karaoke, let alone roller skates…

Torao: How about you, Minami***?

Minami: What a coincidence. I’m a Gemini and my blood type is AB. I’m a quick thinker and because of that, I get mentally tired easily. My lucky spot happens to be Rabiccho

Haruka: Aaah…! W-well, if you guys say so… I don’t mind coming with you…

Touma: It’s settled then

Touma: Oh, it’s almost time. Let’s go

ŹOOĻ: Yes

*Footsteps sound*

Haruka: What drink should I choose??

Touma: Have you ever tried that thing before?

Haruka: What?

Touma: Basically, in one cup…

Torao: So, you did notice…

Minami: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Torao: Haruka. He’s the reason why you divined those lucky spots for us

Minami: Who knows? However, if Isumi san feels lucky that means my fortune telling guessed it right

Torao: Ahah. Well, that wasn’t a bad idea, after all

The end

TL Notes:

*Touma’s referring to the makeup session before work

** Minami actually says that Haruka is Aquarius and his blood type is A, but it was a recording mistake so I corrected it in the translation

*** Also due to a recording mistake, Torao calls Minami “Mina”

Thanks to @mindsebbandflow for letting me translate the audio CD!

#zool #Idolish7 #idolish7translation

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