#or have i just been blacking out for every performance

[sarawritestories]

I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 1

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Content Warning: Violence.

A/N: Here is the first chapter I hope you all Enjoy! 🩰

Word Count: 4.9K

If you want to Read on AO3 click Here

I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

Ashes. I’m watching my pointe shoes turn into ashes. I can’t help the tears that roll down my face. “Maybe now you will understand that no child of mine will be a performer in a traveling freakshow. My children are riders; they will serve their country with pride.” My Father’s voice grates against my skin as I watch the one thing I treasure most burn my dreams with it. “Come, Lydia, it’s almost time to go.” My legs refuse to move, as the pop of the wood makes me jump.

Hearing Colonel Aetos sigh grates my skin, he’s sending me to my death, with a first-born son like Dain, he didn’t need a second child. Correction he didn’t want one. Yet here I sit to his dismay. His feet move quickly as he places his hand in a vice-like grip around my arm; yanking me from the hearth, I writhe in his grasp as he pulls me away as I see what is left of the pink silk turn black. “That’s enough, Lydia.” He pins me against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to send a message, “You are going to cross that parapet, and join your brother, you are going to become a rider. Do you understand me?”

I school my face into something soft as if my life isn’t being turned upside down, swallowing the tears. “Yes, Colonel,” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but my mother’s and my father realizes it too as his complexion pales slightly.

Regaining his composure, “Get dressed, back your rucksack and let’s go we are supposed to be in General Sorrengail’s office in 10 minutes.” I jerk out of his grasp and head to my room, trying to even out my breathing. As miserable as it sounds, I’m glad I will have Violet. The two of us have been inseparable for our entire lives. We are both being forced into the Rider’s quadrant today, at the hands of our parents. I tuck my hand under my mattress and pull out a piece of paper. I sit on the edge of my bed and re-read words I have memorized at this point.

My Dearest Lydia,

My little twinkle toes. I’m so sorry, I had to leave. The life your father leads can feel like a cage. I’m suffocating, little one. I cannot be controlled or maintained like a rabid beast. I’m sorry, I know what this means for you, what your father will make you do when you turn twenty. Just know that not a day goes by when I won’t feel guilty for putting you in that cage to take my place. Just know that I love you and if you get anything from this letter. Don’t stop dancing. Whatever you do, continue dancing through this life. Let dance be your escape from the cruelty Basgiath has to offer. I hope one day we will be reunited, and you will have found a way to break out of the chains that hold you in Navarre.

I love you more than you know,

Mom

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Every time I read the letter of my heartaches; she knew that the father would force me into the Rider’s quadrant. Why couldn’t she take me with her? Couldn’t we both be free? Why couldn’t she have stayed just long enough for me to find a way for me to pursue my dream?  Anger bubbles up in my core, why was she so selfish to fucking leave me here, knowing that I would be sharing the same feelings she had.

Not wanting to keep The Colonel waiting I put on a black, long-sleeved shirt and tightly fitted leather pants from an old riders uniform my father found. I fold the note into a small square and tuck it into my boot, not wanting to risk him finding it. Grabbing my bag, I step out of my room that has been my home for seventeen years of my life and meet my father. As we begin to walk, I shut my eyes and I allow myself one more moment to mourn over the dream I will never be able to fulfill.

Violet and I stare up at the tower familiar with the trek we will have to make to reach the parapet, the first trial we will receive before ever becoming a cadet. Violet takes my hand, “At least we have each other.” 

I give her hand a comforting squeeze as we move up the line. “Name,” The lady calls out not bothering to look up from the parchment. Violet moves to talk to the older gentleman as I heave a sigh.

“Lydia Aetos.”

The woman blinks after scribbling down my name and looks up to meet my eyes and I notice the flinch she gives when she notices that they are two different colors. “Are you related to Colonel Aetos?”

I nod my head, “He is my father.” I see Violet is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, “I turn and look at her. “Have a nice day,” I give her the best smile I can, which in turn might be a grimace as I move to meet my friend.

She is conversing with a taller girl, with dark skin and her hair had been pulled back in small rows of braids. Her brown eyes glimmered with excitement as I came closer. The woman paused and tilted her head at me. “Hello,” I give a small wave, shifting under the weight of her gaze.

“Your eyes.” She begins and my mind starts filling in the gaps with words my father has used in the past.

Ugly.

Disgusting.

Defective.

“Beautiful.” The word shakes me out of my spiral of negativity.

“I’m sorry?” I blinked.

“You’re eyes, they’re beautiful. I have read that some are born with two different colored eyes, but to see the beauty of it in person.” She holds out her hand, “Rhiannon Matthias.”

“Lydia Aetos.” Taking her hand and shaking it a genuine smile creeping up on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m General Melgren, now move. We don’t have all day.” A man’s voice quips behind us. I turn to find piercing blue eyes and a full head of blond hair; he is wearing a scowl that contorts his face into something heinous.  He gives me a playful wink, that makes my stomach churn, “Let’s go, Princess.”

Not bothering to give him a response, I turned back to my friend and new acquaintance. The three of us begin our ascent up the stairs. The smaller man in front of us- Dylan- keeps babbling about how excited he is to be in the Rider’s quadrant. As he and Rhinannon discuss their dreams and goals, I let my mind wander.

Twirling across the stage, each pirouette clean and precise just as Seraphina has taught me. My tulle skirts billowing around me like a shield. I don’t need to remember the next move, the music seeps into my bones and as if in response my body knows what to do next. I grin as the warmth of all the mage lights, illuminating the stage, kisses my skin. Twirling into a solid form, Large tan hands grip my waist as my partner steps in time with the beat.

We move as one as he spins hoisting me up in the air. I am certain my toes are pointed, and my arms are sharp in an elegant pose. I feel myself being lowered and looked at my partners face, familiar hazel eyes and a toothy grin in plain view, twirling me once more to the crescendo of the music and when my twirls end, He dips me low, my one leg stretched out in between his, the other bent my foot tucked behind my knee cap. His forehead presses mind as my arms move around his neck in time with the end notes of the music.  My eyes close as the smell of Cinnamon, Vanilla waft my nose, as the thunderous applause ruptures through the theater. Lips press against mine and I can’t help the giggle that erupts from my throat.

“Lydia.” His warm voice calls for me.

“Lydia. Lydia.”

“Lydia!” Violet shouts giving me a shove, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look to see that Rhiannon and Dylan are giving me looks of concern. I pressed my hand to my cheek to find them wet with tears. Shit. Violet’s eyes held worry and an undertone of understanding. “You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” She whispers low enough only I can hear, as our hike up the concrete steps was nearing a close as the daylight was beginning to peak through.

“Yeah. I guess I’m missing everyone a little more today.” It’s a severe understatement that I’m making but Violet has her own things to worry about, no need to add more to her plate.

Violet, Dain, and I grew up together, she is basically my sister in all forms of the word. We have been inseparable, even more so when Brennan died and Dain left last year for the Rider’s quadrant, me, and her against the world we always teased. I never felt that more now, she gripped my hand in hers and gives me a squeeze as if she is thinking the same thing. “Thank you for always being there when I need, you Vi.”

Violet snorted, causing Rhinannon to turn and smirk, I look down at her feet briefly and notice the woman has one of Violet’s shoes and Violet in turn has one of her slippers on her feet. When did they do that? Violet’s voice causes me to face her, “You sound like you’re going to die today.”

“I am pretty sure that was the plan.” I murmur as Dylan and Rhiannon reach the top of the stairs. “He wants me dead, Vi.”

“Too bad. You and I. We are not going to die today, Lydia.” Violet was the first to reach the open expanse of the turret. The breath of fresh air is welcome to the stench of sweat and body odor. The warmth of the sun kisses my skin, a large gust of wind whipping my hair across my face. Violet seeing this her eyes widen. “I almost forgot. In my bag there is a little gift from Mira.” I quickly open her bag and pull out a package with my name on it and a little note.

Hey Kid,

A little gift from your favorite sibling. Don’t roll your eyes, you know it’s true!

Just something that can keep that crazy mane of yours up and to remind everyone not to mess with you.

Mira

Unwrapping package to reveal two long gold hair pins, little gold dragons at one end the pointed end sharp as knives. “I love your sister; did you know that?”

Violet laughs as I shut her bag and quickly put my hair in a tight bun. “You and me both.” There is a pause as we make our way closer to beginning. “I’m looking forward to seeing Dain.”

I roll my eyes, about to retort when a man’s voice, “You ready for the next one, Riorson.”

I pause my movements, my hands still in my hair, looking at the broad chest in front of me my eyes trail up and I am met with a set jaw and alluring onyx eyes, and in the light little gold flecks shine through. I roll my shoulders and drop my hands from my hair. His eyes graze my body and back up to my eyes and shiver down my spine. “Aetos, Sorrengail, you two, okay?” Pulling away from the man’s magnetic gaze, I meet Rhiannon’s stare. I dip my chin in silent confirmation.

“Sorrengail and Aetos?” The low rumble of Xaden Riorson voice pulls my attention back to him. This man is the definition of beauty, his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, even with the scar cutting across his brow that drags down to the top of his cheek bone. His tan skin gleams with perspiration from the midday sun no doubt, and I catch a glimpse a tattoo on the side of his neck that disappears with the neckline of his shirt. The clearing of his throat makes me meet his eyes once more. There is a knowing smirk on his face, and he quirks an eyebrow, “Like what you see, Sweetheart?”

I remain silent and avert his stare. “You’re Fen Riorson’s son.” Violet’s voice sounds from behind me.

“You’re General Sorrengail’s Daughter.” He retorts, “Your mother had my father executed.”

I can feel Violet’s anger bubbling behind me. “Your father killed my brother I think that makes us even.”

Xaden snorts, “Hardly.” That perks my head up, to find his eyes were already on me. He tilts his head his eyes assessing me, like I’m a prize mare, “And you. I wasn’t aware that Dain Aetos had a little sister. He never talks about you.”

I bite my lip the only indication I give that his words bother me, “I can’t say. I’m surprised.”

Xaden takes a step forward and try to focus on the floor once more, “Why’s that, Kitten?” A finger hooks under my chin forcing me to meet his gaze and my heart rate quickens, out of fear or sheer arousal, I’m not sure.

One thing I do know: This man is dangerous.  Yet I fall for his beautifully set trap and answer honestly, knowing I should not give him any of my weaknesses, “No one likes talking about the disappointment in the family.” For extra measure I take a step back, away from his touch and he lets me, dropping his hand.

“Hurry it up. Some of us are becoming riders today.” The ass hole from before speaks, his words grating my skin. A distant scream comes from the death trap in front of me. When looking over to the parapet I no longer see Dylan and my heart sinks. Rhiannon is still moving, and Violet begins to walk across dark storm clouds rolling in followed by a rumble of thunder. Fucking. Wonderful.

Xaden chuckles and I meet his stare, “Good luck, Kitten.” He gestures for me to the entry point of the parapet.

I glare at him, flaring my nostrils, “My name is Lydia.”

He smirks, “I think my name suits you better.”

I don’t know how the dagger got in my hand but the minute I throw it, the steel passing about 3 people before it hits its mark. The dagger sinks into the crack of the concrete a half an inch from the jack ass who has been making smart ass comments all morning’s shoes. Looking back at those gold flecked onyx eyes I give him a wink, “I think you’ll find, it doesn’t.”

The guy next Xaden laughed, “Looks like the kitten has claws. I hope you make it, Aetos,” He nods his head and I begin to walk. The drop of rain pelts my skin the moment I take my first step. When I take the next few steps, the sky opens as rain cascades down. I can hear Seraphina’s instructions in my ears.

Arms out, straighten that back. Get into second position.

I straighten my posture and extend my arms out, placing my feet outwardly giving myself the optimal balance and proceed to move. I focus on Violet’s pack in front of me as I keep moving. I imagine myself on stage, the music once again whisking me away. The low rumble of drums meets the contrasting sounds of the piccolo and various string instruments to create a melody that makes my movements lighter. I trust in my training, my balance, the music that for years kept me rooted. The music drowns out the sound of the rain colliding against the brick. My mind transforms the stage into a whimsical forest, and I am balancing on a fallen tree trunk to reach for my lover on the other side. His smile warm as the lights pressing against my skin. I’m not in old leather, I’m in a white gown with billowing layers that makes it easier to move in when I dance.

I twirl my feet finding purchase on the log once I complete the spin with flawless precision. A smile emerges on my face as I gear up for my flip the finishing move, I need to do before reaching the halfway point to him. I run and leap, my legs flipping over my head with the elegance of a gazelle. Landing with a pointed toe and my arms reaching for the sky my balance slips slightly but not enough to keep me from moving toward my goal. To keep me from returning to his arms. I allow myself a glance at his eyes and his face contorts into something unrecognizable, evil.

“I’m coming to get you, Twinkle Toes.” The voice is not his and I blink as the music abruptly stops and the reality, I am in comes crashing forward. The cool kiss of rain rakes a chill down my body. The voice came from behind me. I turn to find the blonde from earlier coming at me with full speed. The person that was behind me in line is blocking him from me and still is a good distance aways. That does not deter the Blonde-haired menace, as he grips the arm of the girl and throws her off. My eyes widen and my instincts overtake my body and I sprint. I focus ahead of me and try to think of music that would be appropriate for this. Something fast paced with horns and fast-paced drums, trying to keep my mind on anything besides the absolute menace behind me.

I can hear his footsteps thudding over the pattering of the rain and I quicken my base trusting in the traction of my boots. I can see the end and Violet reaching it. The is gaining on me and I have enough distance that I pause, briefly and take the risk I prep for my jump and slip. Regaining my balance and looking back to see he is still far enough for me to recover. I get in position once more and take a deep breath.

I will not die today.

I sprint into a run once more and when I have enough distance I take my leap, my feet pointed, my back arched in perfect form even Seraphina wouldn’t have anything to say. When I land the ground is slick and I lose my footing. Fortunately, Violet is there to hold me still. “Lydia! We made it!”

I nod and turn to the cadet with bright red hair, she smirks, “Name.”

“Lydia Aetos.”

“Welcome to the Rider’s Quadrant, Lydia. That was one hell of a performance.”

I walk further down the steps and notice that Violet winces, “Let’s get you taken care of.” I loop her arm in mine before we are both grip in a bone crushing hug.

“We did it!” Rhiannon beams and she looks at me, “You definitely made a name for yourself, what you did on the parapet was amazing.”

“What did I do?”

Violet blinks, “You’re kidding.” Before Violet could elaborate.

“Name.”

“Jack Barlow.” His eyes meet mine and there is a snarl on his face. The look promises one thing. Trouble. Thankfully he stalks in the other direction

“Lydia.” Only one man’s voice makes me groan knowing a lecture is brewing, I turn and see Dain standing there his mouth formed in a tight line, his eyes shift over to the silver haired woman next to me and his face shifts into shock, “Violet?”

Violet smiles, “Hi Dain,” Dain looked to his left then to his right before he grips both Violet’s and mine’s wrist and drags us away from Rhiannon.

“Dain,” I hiss, “She’s hurt take it easy.”

As if on cue Violet begins to dry heave. “Shit.” Dain mutters as he takes her to a bench hidden in an alcove where no one could see. “What the hell are you doing here, Violet?” As he tucks her head between her knees.

“General Sorrengail, refuses to have a scribe in her family. Like someone else we know.”

“Scribe is a respectable job. Dancing is not.” Dain deadpans and I clench my fist. A hand touches my shoulder causing me to jump.  “What the hell were you thinking, Lydia? Dancing on the parapet like that?”

I blink, and clear my throat, “I didn’t realize that is what I did. I was trying to put myself in my happy place. To keep me from over thinking about what I was doing. My instincts went into overdrive.”

“What you did was showboat and it’s going to cause me problems.” He scowls at me, and I get a good look at him at him, he’s grown a beard since I last saw him. But he still has our father’s brown eyes, and his hair cut short and his curls sitting atop his head. “What?”

“I can’t look at my older brother. I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking.” He rolls his eyes and presses me into a hug.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in my hair as he notices the new pins, “Let me guess.”

“Mira.” Violet, Dain and I say at the same time.

Dain smiles, “They suit you.” His small drops, “You must promise to never do what you did again. There are only two rules that I need you to follow, I expect you to follow them. No talking about dance, or dancing and stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

“Noted.” I rolled my eyes, “Glad to see somethings never change.” Dain sighs and moves back to Violet.

I felt a hand gripped my shoulder causing me to jump, “It’s just me.” Rhi’s voice calms me as she gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, “I wanted to swap shoes back.”

Dain looks between Violet’s shoes and glares at Violet. “Make it snappy.” He glares at Rhiannon, “Who are you?”

Rhiannon looks between me and Violet, “I am their friend.” She slips off Violet’s boot and sighs in reprieve as Violet removes the slipper from her foot and grabs her boot, which Dain helped her put it on.

“I am a squad leader.” He looks over to me and Rhi. “You two go tell the red head recording names that you three are going to be in my squad. I’m going to help Violet and will be right back.” I nod my head and turn on my heal.

“Is that your brother?” Rhi asks.

“Yup.”

“He is something.”

“Tell me about it.” I sigh

We have been placed in our squads. I’m grateful that Violet and I ended up together and not in Xaden’s Wing. Not a fan of the fact that he is one of my superiors. His eyes meet mine and he smirks, those eyes look at me like a predator watching his prey. He whispers to our wingleader and then. “Second Wing Flame Section, you will be moving to Fourth Wing.” My stomach sinks, avoiding the stare of my new wingleader.

“Cadets, move.” Dain commands his jaw sets the only indication that he is upset. We move to where our new wing is standing as the one that is now apart of Second Wing move to where we were just standing.                 

Once everyone settles Xaden begins to speak. I try to zone him out as best as I can, exhaustion is beginning to take over my body. The adrenaline from crossing over the parapet but his voice rings out, “You all feel pretty bad ass don’t you,” Cheers erupt around me and Xaden nods, “Feeling invincible?” I do not feel that way. “You think you’re worthy of a dragon.” More cheers erupted and Xaden crossed his arms. The sound of thunder erupts.

No. Not thunder.

Wings.                                                                                                                                                

As if on Xaden’s cue a horde dragons’ approach, the noise begins to build as a regal blue dagger tail lands on the edge of the wall as if it’s a perch for them. Her claws dig into the brick, pieces crumbling down under her weight. I notice the cadets around me are frozen in fear. A few were shaking and their pants had dark spots that trailed down their legs. Terror racks through my body but I focus on my breathing.

Thump, Thump

The blood curdling scream of another cadet rattles me as a young man from the first wing runs heading back toward the parapet. The dragons all shift as a few more cadets scatter. I blink and feel hands around my waist tugging me down before the dragons unfurl their tongues and fire erupts from all different angles. The hands around me tug me close to the lean chest and I place my own hands around the mystery person’s, their fingers lacing theirs through mine I squeeze my eyes shut as anguish screams fill my ears and will certainly give me nightmares. The fire ceases and the smell of burnt flesh is left in its wake. The figure behind me moves and helps me up. I turn around hoping I would see Dain’s face behind me.

Thump, Thump

Instead, I am met with warm brown eyes and a goofy grin. A man with tan skin, a curly mop of brown hair and handsome face looks back at me, “You, okay?”

I nod my hand, “Thank you…” I lead of.

He holds out his hand, “Ridoc Gamlyn.”

I took his hand, “Lydia Aetos.”

Before Ridoc can comment on my name Dain turns, “Quiet both of you.” Ridoc Mimics him and causes me to giggle as Xaden continues his speech.

“Anyone still feel invincible now?” He questions his brow quirking as his eyes loom over the entire Quadrant, locking onto mine.

Thump, Thump.

My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. His eyes pin me to the floor incapable of moving. Out of the corner of my eye I see the blue dagger tail moving her head back and forth.  It’s the gasp of the crowd that pulls me from Xaden’s gaze.

Thump, Thump.

 The blues dragon takes a step down and my squad parts to make room for her. Her yellow eyes are looking directly at me as she takes another step forward. Dain’s face paled as he watches on, but its movement to my left that catches my attention. Xaden moves from where he is standing, his face is unreadable. It’s the quaking step of the dragon in front of me and my heart rate quickens as her yellow eyes take me in.

Thump, Thump, Thump

Despite the paralyzing fear, that I may very well die in the next few seconds I take in the creature before me. Her large horns curve on the top of her head. Her scales up close shimmer with various hues of blue and hints of black near the base of her scales, which makes her eyes stand out. Her nostrils flair, it feels like a challenge, as if she is begging for me to turn and run.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

I will not die today. I take a glance at where Dain is and spot Violet right beside him, terror on her face. She knows dragons better than I do, though I know enough, she knows my rate of survival is potentially slim here. I close my eyes and try to keep my breathing even. My heart erupting in my ears.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

I get down on my knees, my hands remaining at my sides. “What the fuck is she doing?” Jack Barlow’s voice carries over the silence that has fell amongst the court. No one else says a word as I bend forward lowering myself until my forehead touches the cool brick, the small grooves pressed against my skin. I close my eyes and I mentally recite different dance positions in my head trying to ease the fear.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

My breathing begins to even out when I feel the warm steam pressing against my neck. I take the risk and lift my head; the dragon nods her head. Is she giving me the okay to rise? Another dip of her head, and I slowly rise to my feet. As I do I meet her gaze once more, it’s just her and I, the world around us since forgotten. The dragon does something to my surprise, she cranes her neck where the tip of her snout touches the floor. She is bowing to me. The message is clear, a sign of mutual respect.

Thump, Thump.

She raises her head but keeps it low as she cranes her neck out for me. I cannot even see her eyes as she comes near and presses her snout to my chest. The chatter amongst the crowd is indistinguishable. I press my hand to her snout, her scales feel like leather under my touch, a smile forms on my cheeks, fear suddenly turning into elation. “Hello, Beautiful.” My voice was unable to reach above a whisper. She huffs in response and moves back to where she was perched before.

Adrenaline must be widdling from my body fast because I grip Ridoc’s shoulder tightly as my world tilts.

Thump, Thump.

I just survived my first encounter with a dragon.

To Be Continued..

Story Tags: @milswrites @eve175 @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246 @thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen

#xaden riorson #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #ridoc fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #dain aetos #violet sorrengail #slow burn #xaden x oc

[sissylittlefeather]

We Can Make the Morning

(or Angel Take 7)

A one-shot

A/N: I've had this idea for a while and just decided to go ahead and write it the other day while I was watching Elvis On Tour. I hope y'all enjoy this 1972 Elvis x fem!reader one-shot!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Word count: ~3.7k

Greensboro, North Carolina. You've lived here your whole life. And you've been an Elvis fan since you heard his first record at the tender age of fifteen. Now you're in your early thirties and you finally find yourself at one of his shows. You've never managed to go to one before and something about this feels like destiny. Still, the best you could afford is a seat at the front of the balcony, but you're next to where he'll walk into and out of the arena. If you push, you might be able to get a pretty good glimpse of him, and that's all you've ever really wanted. You dream of more, but you know better than to think he's going to notice you or anything.

April 14th, 1972 is show day, finally. You get dressed and try to ignore your nerves as you fix your hair and swipe on your makeup. You opt for your favorite bell bottoms and a cropped peasant blouse. It's not the dressiest outfit you own, but it flatters you and shows off all your best assets. Not that it matters much. He'll never see you.

At the arena, you make your way to your seat and try to survey whether you'll be able to get to a place where you can really see him up close. Eventually the lights go down and the music starts up. You head over to the railing, but there's a hundred girls between you and the tunnel. There's no way you can fight through them this time. You'll have to try again at the end of the concert. You head back to your seat with a new determination.

The show is incredible.

He's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with a belt that has an owl on it, as he points out during one of the songs. Even as far away as you are, you can tell he looks amazing. His voice is on point and his performance is unmatched. You sit in silence with your lips parted slightly and your eyes wide. It's like he's made of stardust. And you're not going to let him pass by without seeing him up close.

He ends the show with Can't Help Falling In Love and then bows with his arms held out holding the silver cape. You know he's going to move fast through the tunnel, so you run to the railing and push your way through all the women gathered there. It's hot and hard to breathe and your heart is pounding. You're pressed up against the railing where it hits you just below the waist. Your position on your platform boots is precarious but you lean over anyway, just in case he reaches up. You feel yourself getting lightheaded from the excitement, but you're not going to miss this for anything, no matter how you feel. Just then, you see him headed for the tunnel. Your ears start ringing and the edges of your vision go dark. You can't believe it's really him. As the blackness envelops you, someone behind you pushes on your back and you feel yourself falling...

******

On stage, Elvis knows he's putting on a hell of a show. The energy from the crowd is electric and the camera crew seems excited by the footage they're collecting. In truth, he's ready to be done with this damn movie. Ready to be done with this damn tour. He enjoys the stage portion but everything in between is grueling. And honestly, the loneliness has been setting in pretty hard for him, especially in the middle of the night. Sometimes he picks up a girl at a show, but most of his encounters are empty. And even if he does find someone he likes, the conversation is lacking or she's so starstruck she can't do much more than giggle or try way too hard to impress him in bed. He longs for a real connection.

On stage, though, he lives his dream every night. This show in North Carolina is particularly satisfying for some reason and he comes off the stage with a smile on his face. He makes his way quickly to the car, heading for the tunnel lined with screaming fans. Looking up briefly, something strange captures his eye.

He reacts quickly without thinking, throwing his arms out to catch you just before you hit the ground. Somehow, you fall perfectly into his grasp and he holds you like a baby. He's stopped running, so his entourage encircles him to urge him forward.

"You can't stop here, man!"

"Put her down; let's go!" He looks down at you in his arms and realizes you're out cold.

"I can't! She's out, guys!"

"You're gonna have to drop her!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"No. I'm bringin' her with me." The guys make eye contact across him. They know when he's like this there's no arguing with him. He starts moving forward again with you in his arms.

At the car, the guys try again to get him to drop you with a security guard, but he refuses.

"It's my fault she's like this! I'm not leavin' her!" He gets into the backseat of his car, holding you on his lap. The other guys roll their eyes and squeeze in with him. It was a tight fit even before you were there, so now it's almost impossible for them to smash into the car. He wraps his arms around you tighter and holds you to him while the guys pile in. Sweat from the show slides down his face and he looks at you in his arms. The gentle lines of your features are intriguing and he wonders what your name is. For a moment, he forgets where he is and does something a little strange. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to your forehead. That's when your eyelids flutter and you stir.

******

You sit up quickly and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You're in a car of some kind with a bunch of men you don't recognize. You try desperately to remember how you got here.

"Hey, honey. Are you alright?" When you hear his voice, you whip your head around.

"Oh." You answer breathlessly. "It's you."

He chuckles softly and his smile almost causes you to pass out again.

"It's me. I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to leave you there in that state."

"State?"

"Do you remember falling over the wall?" You cover your face in embarrassment.

"Oh my god..." He laughs softly again.

"Honey, it's okay. It happens."

"This has happened before?!"

"Well, not exactly..." One of the guys cuts in and you realize you're sitting on Elvis's lap with his arms around you. You fight to keep your composure.

"We're here, boss." The door opens and the guys climb out of the car until it's just you and Elvis.

"I'd like you to stay, so I can keep an eye on you. Is that okay?"

"I'm not sure it's necessary..."

"I say it is. Come on." You're not going to argue with him. He pats your bottom and you climb out of the car, followed closely by him.

On the sidewalk, you stumble a little, still woozy from passing out. He wraps his arm around your waist and steadies you.

"Do I need to carry you, honey?" The concern on his face is so endearing you almost melt into the ground.

"N-no, I think I'm okay."

"Alright. I'm gonna keep a hold of ya, though." You nod and he smiles genially. Then, the two of you make your way into the hotel surrounded by his bodyguards. At the elevator, he tries to dismiss them, and they refuse to leave him alone, but when he speaks sternly and insists that he'd like to be left alone, they listen and watch as he gets on the elevator with just you. Once the doors slide shut, he turns to you and puts both hands on your hips.

"What's your name, honey?"

"Oh! I'm y/n. I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be." He waves his hand to dismiss your apology. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember if you hit your head on the way down?"

"I don't. I think I might've been out before I fell."

"You still might've hit your head." The elevator dings and the doors open. He keeps one arm around your waist and ushers you down the hallway to his room. You look at him in his jumpsuit and wonder where he might possibly have a key stashed. He bends down and pulls it out of his boot, standing and unlocking the door. You stumble a little walking across the threshold and he steadies you again, watching you with even more concern. Once you're in the room with the door shut behind you, he seats you next to him on the couch. You yawn and blink slowly. Somehow, you're exhausted.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhmm." You answer, yawning again.

"Okay. We need to keep you awake. If you hit your head, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I don't feel like I hit my head." He reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, honey." You nod slowly and notice that his eyes flick down to your lips. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. You're a little surprised that he almost seems shy.

"You're sure I can't just lay down?"

"No, baby, you gotta stay awake." He looks down at himself and then to the bathroom. "I need to shower, though. But I hate to leave you alone."

"I really think I'm okay." He looks at skeptically as you yawn yet again.

"No. You're comin' with me. You can wear your underwear in the shower. I won't touch you. C'mon." He makes you stand up off of the couch and takes your hand, walking you to the bathroom. You want to tell him that you'd happily get in the shower with him naked, but you don't. He puts you in first, facing the back of the shower and then you hear him undress and get in behind you. You're dying to peek and see what he looks like without his jumpsuit, but he's being so kind that you can't violate his privacy like that. Still, the knowledge that Elvis Presley is naked behind you in the shower makes you a little crazy. Just when you think it can't get much more endearing, he starts humming. Your heart melts when his humming turns to quiet singing and you're dying to turn around and wrap him in your arms. He's so much more precious in person than you ever dreamed he could be.

You're lost in a reverie when the shower turns off and you feel him turn to face you. You can tell he's looking at you and you want to turn around so badly. Everything inside you is screaming at you to just turn around. But it's like you're frozen where you stand. When he kisses your shoulder, though, your head rolls to the side and you're desperate for him to touch you. He doesn't though. Instead, he whispers.

"You stay here, baby. I'll get you a towel." He gets out of the shower and hands you a towel. "There's a robe hanging on the door. I'm right outside."

You dry off and slip out of your wet undergarments, wrapping the fluffy robe around yourself. When you open the door, he's sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist. He looks up at you in the robe and swallows deeply. You sit on the edge of the bed and smile awkwardly. He returns your smile.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." He chuckles softly and moves back to the bathroom. You settle against the pillows and hastily break your promise to stay awake. The warmth of rest washes over you and your eyes close.

******

Elvis puts you in the shower in your underwear facing away from him. It's impossible for him not to notice your figure, though. The curve of your ass in your white panties about drives him crazy. He strips naked and turns the shower on. Through the whole shower, he tells himself not to get aroused just at your proximity. Once he's finished, he pulls the handle to make the water stop and then turns to face you. Your hair and your body are wet from the shower and he wants to touch you so badly that it almost hurts. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder. It's an indulgence he should have resisted, but something about you is intoxicating. He breathes deeply and pulls himself away to get you a towel. Once he does, he walks out into the room and sits on the couch. What is it about you that has him so out of sorts?

When you come out in the robe, it takes all of his self control to keep from ripping it off of you. But he wants more from this. He wants to know you, not just fuck you and move on.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep." You give him a salute and he chuckles, making his way back to the bathroom. After about thirty seconds, though, he has a bad feeling. He doesn't even get his pants on and walks back into the room still in his towel.

He was right. You're asleep.

He moves to the bed quickly and sits next to you, shaking you gently.

"Hey, baby, wake up." You don't stir and he starts to panic. He thinks back to how he woke you up in the car and leans in and kisses your forehead. Still, you stay asleep. He kisses your cheek and then finally, he presses his lips to yours. Finally, your eyes flutter open and he smiles. "You're back."

******

"I am. You kissed me."

"I'm sorry; I was getting desperate." He looks into your eyes and your smiles fade.

"Do it again." You whisper and he nods, pulling your face back into his. He crashes his lips into yours and the kiss moves to a fever pitch as he parts your lips with his and slips his tongue into your mouth. He puts both hands on your cheeks and you sit up on your knees, ready to crawl into his lap. Thats when he notices his erection under the towel. It's impossible to hide and he pulls away, looking down, and trying to push his cock down to make it less obvious.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be. It's okay." He shakes his head.

"No. It's not. I brought you up here just to keep an eye on you and now this." He's ashamed at his reaction to you. He feels your finger under his chin and you pull his face to looking into yours.

"Elvis, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you? Knowing you? It just confirms everything I've ever believed to be true about you." He melts at your words and pulls you in close to him, kissing you deeply. But he pulls away again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if you should do... this..."

"Then maybe I can do this..." You reach your hand forward and run it down his chest to the top of the towel. Then, he inhales sharply as you move further down to where his cock is erect underneath it. You slide your hand under the towel carefully and take him in your palm. He moans softly as you begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth gently.

"God, baby, that feels so good. You don't have to-"

"Shhh. You've been taking care of me all night. Let me take care of you." His hips buck into your hand as you continue to pump him. He grunts and leans his head back as you move your hand a little faster.

"Mmm, baby..." He moans as you push his foreskin back and collect a bead of precum that's gathered there, running your thumb across his sensitive head. He leans back and lets you move the towel out of the way to free his cock and stroke it in the open. You pump him a little faster and he groans again. "It's so good, baby."

He feels your lips on his cheek as you move your hand on him and turns to kiss you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to capture your lips again. Then, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers.

"Thank you..." You smile and continue moving your hand up and down on him gently. He throws his head back and his hips buck again. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-"

A guttural groan rises from his throat as he cums, hard, and shoots his climax all over your hand. You pump him through his release and he shudders into your palm. He uses the towel to wipe your hand clean and then lays back on the bed.

You giggle a little and lay back with him. He turns and looks at you.

"I haven't been that satisfied with a handjob in years."

"I haven't given one in years." You smile. He rolls over and smothers you in kisses, forgetting for a second that you might be hurt. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, reaching down to undo the tie on your robe. His hand runs underneath it onto your stomach and down to your hip.

"Can I make you feel good too, honey?" You nod frantically and he laughs out loud. Then he stops and looks at you seriously. "Alright, just don't move around too much. I'll never forgive myself if this hurts you."

"I really think I'm fine." He sinks to the floor between your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He spreads your legs, kissing the inside of each of your thighs gently. You moan softly as he leans forward and drags his tongue up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh, god, Elvis!" You whimper as he continues to move his mouth on you. He swirls his tongue over and around your clit in tantalizing circles. The sensation drives you wild and your pussy clenches around nothing as he licks you. He dips down and pushes his tongue into your slit several times before slipping one of his long fingers inside you. You whine and arch your back as he pumps his finger in and out and goes back to dragging his tongue over your clit. The pressure of your orgasm builds as he works and you know you won't last too much longer. He pulls back a little and flicks your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, teasing your orgasm out of you.

"Cum for me, baby." He whispers, pressing his whole mouth to you and moving his tongue on you hard.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you, pumping through your veins like electric shockwaves. He continues working his mouth on you as you ride out your high, your hand in his hair.

When you finally come back down and stop shuddering, he pulls back, wiping his face with his hand and laying next to you on the bed.

"Wow." He chuckles and looks over at you. "No, seriously, I've never had a man...get me there."

"Really?"

"I mean, they've tried, but never successfully. It's like I was waiting for you."

"Honey, I feel like I've been waiting for you too." He rolls over and put his hand on your cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it. Something about being here with you, feels like I was meant to catch you."

"It feels like I was meant to fall." He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You shimmy out of the robe and get under the covers with him. He holds your naked body close to his own, running his hands over you gently as you talk.

You spend the rest of the night in conversation and soft touches. He tells you stories about his life and listens attentively when you share yours. The connection between you strengthens with each passing hour and each soft caress and each sweet kiss.

When the sun peeks through the curtains of your hotel room, he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I think you're okay, baby. You haven't had any other symptoms and it's probably been long enough now that you would have."

"Should I leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't."

"Then stay. We made it to the morning. We can rest now." You nod and he settles on your chest. You're both asleep within minutes, wrapped around each other.

Eventually, there's a harsh knock on the door and someone calls to him from the other side of it.

"Hey, boss, we gotta be wheels up in twenty."

"Okay." He hollers back, groaning and stretching.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." You whisper.

"Don't be, honey, that's the best night I've had in years." You both get up and start to get dressed. When you're fully put back together, he grabs you and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"I hate that you're leaving." You mumble into his chest.

"Come with me."

"What? No, I can't."

"Why not?" You wrack your brain for a reason, but there's nothing keeping you here. Nothing that's more important than him.

"Okay." You look up into his face, your arms still wrapped around each other.

"Really?"

"Yes. Can we swing by my apartment and let me grab a few things?"

"Baby, I'm Elvis Presley, we can do whatever we want." He leans in and kisses you softly again. "You know somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I caught you when you fell, but I think you're the one who saved me tonight." He takes your hand to lead you out of the room and into your future. "My own little angel fell right out of the sky. I'm so glad you did."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x you

[ladyamanda123]

🎶 They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one…..so light me up! 🔥

As I’ve been listening to TTPD, Who’s afraid of little old me keeps scratching something in my brain.

Obviously the line “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street” gives an immediate “they’re burning all the witches” call back. The whole concept of the crazy hysterical dangerous woman who dared to stand up for herself and tell the truth.

But every time I hear that line I picture The Chicks standing together in their Salem Witch Trials looking attire in I’m Not Ready To Make Nice, holding hands and telling the world fuck you! I’m pissed!

So I finally sat down this morning and watched the music video (which I haven’t for years) and WOW! 🤯 Watch it guys!

The black and white imagery….the dress….the insane asylum….so much Fortnight music video connections!

The way they start off in white then end up on black just like Taylor in Fortnight.

We know Taylor loves The Chicks and how they were used as a Clara Bow of sorts in her early career…..warning warning….don’t be like them! Be the nice girl!

I think this link was intentional. It’s sad seeing how the entertainment industry takes women and chews them up and then brands them as crazy dangerous hysterical women when they break the status quo and start speaking up. That has been Taylor’s whole career. When she does what the world wants…plays the nice girl, dates the football star, writes the love songs, it’s all good. When she gets messy and real and speaks the uncomfortable truths…

(Like say….. “I choose the 1830s but without all that racism and toxic patriarchy”)

Everyone recoils…..no one wants to hear those things because then we would have to acknowledge them and change them.

One other image kept coming to mind as well. The intro to the movie Practical Magic….the whole leap from the gallows….

Combined with the Burning all the witches line it definitely ties this album to the reputation era.

I really hope reputation tv and those vault tracks she herself says are 🔥 (more burning the witches imagery!) will be her claiming her failed coming out. It really does feel like she’s replaying that whole time of her life again for us. The performance art is so loud. TTPD is the very veiled first step like rep was.

It makes me wonder if maybe someday we might get a new version of Lover….the way it was supposed to be. One can hope!

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #the chicks #I’m not ready to make nice #who’s afraid of little old me #practical magic #they’re burning all the witches #so light me up #Youtube

[mschoiyuki]

Fragile

Nanami Kento x F!reader

Sometimes Nanami also had a bad day and you will always be there to comfort him.

tw : comfort. SFW

wc : 1.8k

It’s pitch black when you arrive at home. It’s already 7pm and your husband hasn’t come home yet. That’s so unusual, Nanami always comes home before 6pm.

You switch all the lights up, puts away your belongings and get ready to make dinner. Your phone rings when you wash your hand. Nanami’s name pops up on the screen.

“Hey honey, not done with the mission yet?” You put on speaker so you can prepare the dinner.

“Hey, sweetheart. I think I’ll be a little late tonight. But I’ll be on my way home soon.” Nanami voice sounded a little bit ragged.

“What happened, Kento? Where are you now? Are you okay?” You pick up your phone and put it on your ear, biting your nails, pacing back and forth.

“I��m okay, just a little injured. I’m at Jujutsu High right now getting treatment from Ieiri - san. It’s nothing serious, darling. Stop biting your nails.” Nanami try to calm you down.

You pause and stop biting your nails, been together for too long makes Nanami knows your every little habits. “Do you want me to pick you up, honey?”

“Ijichi will send me home, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” You can hear Nanami hiss from the treatment he gets from Ieiri.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you. Be safe, Kento.”

“I will, darling. Love you.”

“Love you too.” As you hung up the phone, you try to distract your mind from the news you just heard with trying to make dinner. It’s really so unusual for Nanami to get injured from work, because he is Grade 1 after all. Does it involve with the recent accident? You can’t stop biting your lips now as you try to making dinner.

Minutes turn to hours, when you hear the front door being open you run to greet Nanami. As soon as Nanami sees your face he still gives you smile. Then you see Nanami clutching his stomach, “How bad is the injury, Kento? Show it to me.”

“No welcome home kiss for me, sweetheart?” Nanami caress your cheek, still trying his best to hide his injury from you, he doesn’t want to make you worry.

You sigh and scowl at him, but still tip toeing to kiss his lips for his welcome home kiss, “Come on, let’s sit first and let me see the injury, Kento. I want to know how bad it is.” Nanami takes off his shoes and slips into the home slippers, he takes your hand and follows you to the kitchen.

You slowly sits Nanami on the bar stool, and starts unbuttoning his blue shirt carefully, you furrow your eyebrows when you see the big patch at Nanami’s right stomach. You reach his cheek and caressing it, “What happened, Kento? How did you get this wound? Is this has anything to do with the recent accident?”

Nanami slither his arms to your waist, bringing you closer to him, “Yes, it’s the same curse that does this. Itadori - kun and I finds the culprit, I told Itadori - kun I would handle it, but in the end he also saved me from the curse. The curse can perform Domain Expansion, and I trapped in it. Although I ashamed that I had a thought to give up. I’m sorry, darling.” Nanami looks up at you, his eyes glassy with the tears that forming.

“Why are you sorry, Kento? It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, we all know the risks as sorcerers.” You still caress his cheekbones, looking into his hazel eyes.

“I know that thoughts is hard for you, what if I really gave up and leave you alone?” Nanami tighten his grips on your waist.

“One of us could die from missions, we talked about this before. And yes, the grief is hard to handle. But it’s the risks we take as sorcerers, right? To save human from curses, even though they don’t know about it.”

“Yes, you’re right, darling. But the worst part is…” Nanami pause, and looks away from you.

You pull his face towards you, “What is it, honey?” You look into his eyes, searching something behind it.

Nanami let out a defeat sighs, “The worst part is, the transfigured human, that the culprit transformed human into curse, they still have a lingering feeling as human. They cried and asked help from me, darling. Ieiri - san said that we had to kill them, that’s the only way to help them. But it feels so wrong. I don’t know what the purpose of being a sorcerer if we have to kill human.”

You stare at Nanami with wide eyes, can’t believe with the information that he just shared to you. But one thing you know, Nanami is feeling torn and weak right now and he needs all the support from you. Because whenever you are feeling down from works or from other silly things, he will be there for you. He will give his all for you, his times, his attention, his love, just for the love of his live in a heartbeat. And you will also give everything for him too in a heartbeat, no doubt.

“Kento, I know you will choose a safe way to save them if there’s a way. But this is beyond our control and yes the only way to stop this is to defeat the culprit. Don’t be so hard on yourself, honey. I know you really try your best for them, and I know they must be thankful for you because you helped them, freed them from their misery. So don’t look on the negative side, because there’s also a good side from it. Isn’t it like we also help them as human, honey? Hm?” You wipe Nanami’s tears at the corner of his eyes before it can roll down.

Nanami place his hand on yours that caress his cheek, he leans in on your touch, “Yes, that’s may be right. I just can’t help this uneasy feeling.”

You sighs and smile, you peppered his face with kisses. His forehead, his temple, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, and lastly his lips.

Nanami tighten his hold on your waist and chuckle, “What’s that’s for, darling?”

“To distract your minds.” You give him a quick kiss on his lips again, “Despite everything that happened you’re doing good, Kento.”

Nanami sighs and hug you tightly. You kiss the crown of his head and lean your cheek on it. One hand rubbing his back and the other caressing his scalp.

“Go take a bath, Kento. Should I help you?” You pull away and check his wound again.

“It’s okay, darling. I can manage it.” Nanami slowly stand up and groan from the pain, you hold his hand to support him. Nanami kiss your temple and head to bathroom. And you start plating the dinner for both of you.

While you wait for Nanami done with his shower you prepare his pajamas and brings a new patch, walking to the bathroom sitting at the vanity holding the hair dryer

When Nanami walks out from the shower holding the towel around his hips and another towel at his head and sees you waiting for him, he chuckles and ruffling his hair.

“Come, Kento. Let me dry your hair so you won’t catch a cold.” You pat the gap between your thighs, ushering him to come close.

“I’m so lucky to have you, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’ve become if I’m alone now.” Nanami stand between your thighs and place his hands on it, rubbing your thighs slowly.

“I’m always here for you, Kento. Through ups and downs. Isn’t that our vow?” You smile and ruffle his hair with towel and starts drying it with hair dryer, sometimes gives his scalp a massage.

“All done. Handsome as ever.” You giggle and give him a quick peck in his lips.

Nanami leans his forehead to yours and reach your cheek, “Yes, darling. Through thick and thin. In sickness and health. Thank you for coming into my life.” Nanami graze his lips with yours and he gives you a slow, deep kiss. As he pulls aways he gives your forehead another kiss.

Is it because Nanami coming home with a wound or the atmosphere is making you mellow, his words makes your heart tingle, “Now let’s change the patch. I know Shoko - san gives you the best treatment for you so I don’t have to worry, but we still need to change the patch, right?”

You jump down and tells Nanami to leans on the sink and you slowly peel the patch and grimace when you see his wound. You apply another ointment before wrapping it with a new patch, “I already bring your pajamas. I’ll wait for you at dining room.” You kiss his cheek and walk out from the bathroom.

Dinner went well and both of you decide to rest since today is a little bit chaotic for you and Nanami. The worrying tired you out, and the fight and wound also drained Nanami's energy.

Nanami groan when he lay down, he stretch his arm to you so you can lay with him. You carefully lay on his chest and put your hand on it.

Nanami let out a long relieve sighs and tighten his grip on your arm, "I really glad that Itadori - kun saved me. Even though I know the risk as sorcerers, I still want to spend my life with you." You looks up at Nanami and find him gazing at you with his usual loving eyes.

"Don't say something negatives, Kento. I don't want to imagine it. I just glad that you are coming home safely." You propped yourself up on your elbow.

“Should we just retire and go to Kuantan, darling? Enjoying the beach there. Sounds good?” Nanami caressing your back, giving you an apologetic look for saying something to makes you worry like that.

“You think Gojo will let you retire so early?” You chuckle as you brush his hair with your hand.

“Well he is the strongest, I think he can manage it. Thank you for today. You are the best thing that I ever had, my love.”

“I’ll always have your back, Kento. Like how you always there for me.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” Nanami pulls you down so he can give you a kiss, a slow deep kiss that he always give you to remind you how much he loves you.

"I love you too, Kento. More than anything." You slightly pull away and mutter the words, you lean in again to kiss him and you can feel Nanami smiling against your lips.

From the outside Nanami might looks so strong and reliable, but deep inside you know Nanami has a very soft and fragile heart. That's why you will be always there for him whenever he feels down, just like how he will always be there for you when you are at your worst.

Even though it's just a small gesture, Nanami really thankful for you being there for him. Because he can feel your love through your small actions.

dividers by : @saradika-graphics

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[britishassistant]

An Act of Infinite Optimism

Apollo notices it quickest.

Some might say he could have been quicker on the uptake, which, okay, rude. He’d like to see this hypothetical some do any better, considering the circumstances.

He thinks he can be forgiven for being somewhat distracted given he and Trucy found Lamiroir unresponsive inside an instrument case.

So no, he doesn’t notice while he’s sent Trucy to get help, staying to make sure Lamiroir keeps breathing, that whoever hurt her doesn’t come back to finish the job.

(Every time he blinks, Mr. LeTouse’s face swims in front of his eyes, gasping his last terrified breaths as Apollo can do nothing. He’s not letting that happen again. He won’t.)

But once help has arrived, after Ema’s let them ride in the squad car with her to the Hickfield clinic, and they’ve received the news that Lamiroir is going to be all right?

Things fall into place fast enough to give him whiplash.

It’s the first time Apollo’s seen her without her mantle, is the thing. And his brain, in between being desperately glad she’s okay and dutifully recording her account of the attack, absentmindedly notes that she has the same stickity-up cowlick Trucy gets whenever her top hat is removed.

It must be a thing that people with that kind of wavy hair share, he assumes, as they have the same pseudo-curls framing their faces and fighting to escape the confines of their respective hair ties. True, Trucy’s hair is a much darker shade than the singer’s, almost verging on black, but apart from that, she could have a career as a Lamiroir impersonator later in life. It may not pay as well as magic, but she’d be able to pull it off. Especially with how similar their noses are.

In fact, call him crazy, but Lamiroir’s eyes and Trucy’s are practically the exact same shadOHMYGOD.

“Polly?”

“I’MFINE!” Bursts from the Chords of Steel before he can stop it. “I, uh. I stubbed my toe!”

Trucy cocks her head to the side, squinting at him. “How? There isn’t anything to.”

“I stubbed it. On my shoe.” Apollo lies.

Trucy’s squint only gets more pronounced, but thankfully Lamiroir’s real doctor comes in with the chart that corroborates her testimony.

She doesn’t bring it up as they head back to Sunshine Coliseum to see if he can get anything more out of “Uncle” Valant, but Apollo’s mind keeps darting between the evidence for the actual court case which is his job and the evidence for this completely insane hypothesis that‘s probably a product of stress. Or sleep deprivation. Or both.

He just needs proof that this is nothing but a delusion. Then it’ll stop bugging him.

Which is why he awkwardly asks, “So, if Valant was partners with your father, was he friends with your mother too?”

Trucy freezes.

Only for a moment. To anyone else, it looks as though she’s smiling bright as usual as she follows along beside him.

But even without his bracelet tightening around his wrist, he can spot her fingers pinching the folds of her cloak.

“I dunno! I mean, she musta been, since Uncle Valant and Daddy were best friends and partners!” It’s almost impressive how she deflects the question.

“But you’re not sure?” He probes gently. “Trucy, if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s okay. I trust you, I just wanted—“

“No, it’s fine!” She grins, a brilliant performance. “I can’t really remember Mommy too well—Daddy always said when I was really little, one of her tricks went wrong and she vanished! Somewhere where even Daddy, who’s the best magician of all time, couldn’t find her! Unlucky, huh?”

“Yeah,” Apollo says, screaming internally. “Unlucky.”

Spotting Ema spraying for blood in the hall where Lamiroir said she was attacked is so great a relief Apollo thinks he might faint.

“Trucy, do you think you could try to find Valant for me?” He leans against a wall in what he hopes is a casual way, crossing his legs. “I’m kinda worn out from…everything, and you probably have some magician experience that lets you know where he’ll pop up, right.”

Trudy gives him that suspicious, squinty look again, before she snickers.

“Really, Polly, I’m not that delicate! You can just say, ‘oh I need to go to the bathroom’, you don’t need to dance around it all the time!”

“WH—!” Apollo sputters, “No, I—!”

“Feel free to take your time, Polly!” Trucy sing-songs as she skips away. “I’ll bring Uncle Valant to the stage when you’re done!”

An aggravated groan drags itself out of Apollo’s chest. He cares about Trucy, but he’d really appreciate it if she stopped trying to kill him with embarrassment.

“If it’s that bad, you could always use the staff bathroom.” Pipes up the detective behind him. “It’s down the hall and—“

“I DON’T NEED TO!” The Chords of Steel interject.

At Ema’s disapproving glare, he clears his throat, focuses on his volume modulation. “I just, uh, needed to talk to you about something. In private.”

Ema lowers the spray bottle. “About the case? But why send Trucy away?”

“Not…about the case, exactly? But it’s not unrelated, per se…”

“I haven’t got time for riddles, Apollo.” Ema says, folding her arms. “Just spit it out already!”

Apollo exhales.

“I think Lamiroir might be Trucy’s birth mother.”

Ema stares at him.

“This isn’t just because they have brown hair and blue eyes, is it?” One hand begins to rifle through her satchel in a now familiar search for Snackoos. “Because I have brown hair and blue eyes, Apollo, and last I checked the only family member I’ve got is coming up for parole upstate—“

“No, thAT’S—?!” Apollo focuses on forcing his voice down to a harsh whisper. “Okay, fine, it was kind of based on that, but your eyes aren’t the exact same color as Trucy’s. Lamiroir’s are. And the similarities don’t stop there!”

At Ema’s doubtful gaze, he persists. “Plus, Trucy said her mom ‘vanished’ when she was little, which lines up with Lamiroir saying she can’t recall any of her past before she and Machi got their start—even if she did, Lamiroir may not recognize Trucy now she’s gotten older, especially since she only has Trucy’s voice to go on! Trucy herself admitted that she was so young, she had very little memory of her birth mother! And, she introduced herself as Trucy Wright, not—!“

“Okay, okay.” The sharp munching of Snackoos cuts off his tirade as Ema continues. “You have a lot of talk. But that doesn’t actually prove any relation between the two suspects here. Could just be a whole load of weird coincidences.”

“Suspects?” Apollo mouths to himself.

“No, what we need is definitive evidence.” Ema shakes her head, popping one last Snackoo into her mouth. “Decisive evidence.”

She flips her glasses down over her eyes. “And the only way to get that, is through Science.”

Apollo blinks at her, overcome with a looming sense of foreboding. “We?”

“Yes, Apollo.” Ema grins victoriously. “We.”

#ace attorney #ajaa #apollo justice spoilers #ajaa spoilers #apollo justice #ema skye #trucy wright #aa ema skye #aa trucy #aa apollo #lamiroir #thalassa gramarye #yeah baby #we’re getting CONVOLUTED #also #this boy watched #romien letouse #die in front of him and no one mentioned it again?? EVER?? #after he prosecuted his boss and lost his job and was made to become a mob lawyer #he needs a hug #and therapy #and a steady paycheck

[lady-harrowhark]

Some of my favorite fun shots from Nashville night three ✨

#the opening Miss Americana/Cruel Summer sequence is still the single most gorgeous and creative live performance design I've ever seen #and the purple Folklore dress was MADE to be worn in the rain #i'm particularly fond of the Illicit Affairs shot #in part because the black and white made it easier for my camera to focus but also just the entire aesthetic #cannot believe I caught the lightning during ATW10MV #also the soft blur on the Bejeweled shot turned out so pretty #I'm still in shock that I got to see both WCS and Mine #having been lucky enough to see the show twice in vastly different seats I can confirm: there are no bad seats at the Eras tour #from the middle-side of the lower bowl I could see the main background screen but not the platform screens #but from the upper bowl you got to see the way the light-up bracelets were incorporated into the lighting design #which was INCREDIBLE - these particular photos don't really show that aspect but I have videos I can put up if anyone's curious #truly a very different experience from the different seats but not in a bad way #in a way that makes you go 'oh WOW they really designed this to specifically account for every angle and ensure there are no bad seats' #Eras tour #taylor swift

[gxlden-angels]

Poetry isn't real and ripped scriptures mean nothing. Fuck you

#Not gonna put this one in the main tags #Artisitic Vision/Intent/Interpretation whatever do your thing tumblr this will probably go further than it's meant to #something something death of the author okay I'm gonna give you the answer now #I say the answer and not *an* answer because poetry isn't real and words have to have meaning or they don't #anyways I want to write poetry or do spoken word or something about my religious trauma because I express myself thru art #I like seeing colors and words and going 'that's me. I'm that.' even abstractly because I'm abstract #even as you're reading this you're abstractly assigning me a voice and image even if it's just your own or the default one you use #I think okay I'm going to do black out poetry but I think about it too much. I think too much about making it pretty and meaningful #it's not me making art about my religious trauma anymore. it's about me making art about my trauma instead #I rip the bible to shreds and look at it and it mocks me. This is a form of art. But it means nothing to anyone but me. It's my anger #so I go back to making pretty poems about ripping up the bible and it doesn't mean anything I'm writing about making art again #so I make my art in the midst of my anger and all it says is 'Fuck you' #So now I have a pile of bible pieces and 'Fuck you' and I'm less angry but now I have nothing to show #ripped bible pieces and 'fuck you' look just like every other pile of words from any other book. You could make a new book with the words #I pick up a few pieces and make something new and that's a metaphor for something probably but what makes that so? #I am angry and I decide what's art and what's poetry and I put it out there for you to see and feel something and I've been taught for so #so so long that my purpose is to please others and be perfect that I forget I also have to feel something when I make art #my religious upbringing still affects me in ways I didn't even realize and this will probably get reblogged like tumblr poetry but for me? #for me it's saying you can just be now. not a future bride. not a preacher. not a mother. nothing. You can be nothing. That's fine #You weren't put on this planet to perform #You aren't being watched and judged by an all seeing force. #Be nothing sometimes. Fuck you

[screampied]

MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as a thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this totally accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looks around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you. 

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour. 

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised up and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you. 

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own. 

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you. 

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers. 

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his own saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left from his manager, kento nanami. 

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling. 

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a  playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside. 

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does. 

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison of the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse. 

“n-no.” you spat. 

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway. 

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i  do.”

“just asking.” you tease. 

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips, because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more. 

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him was simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer. 

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy. 

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile. 

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined. 

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips onto your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your own pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips. 

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you're so dizzy. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good.” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous. 

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze all throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re basically being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time. 

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush. 

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy. 

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw. 

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure. 

his breath hitches once he slowly pulls out, watching his own cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch. 

“you ruined my panties.” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leans in for a kiss, and you return the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your own slick that still remained all over his tongue. 

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself. 

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink down against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move. 

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a lost for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule. 

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda of busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the ear piece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you. 

the heels of geto turned before gojo brings a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around. 

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

#★vegasbaby. #popstar!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #female reader #anime smut #anime x reader #gojo x y/n #tw sex #gojou satoru x reader

[makkir0ll]

"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #tsukishima fluff #kageyama fluff #suna fluff #osamu fluff #kuroo fluff #matsukawa fluff #iwaizumi fluff #oikawa fluff #akaashi fluff #kenma fluff #tsukishima x reader #kageyama x reader #suna x reader #osamu x reader #kuroo x reader #matsukawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #akaashi x reader #kenma x reader

[danielhowell]

DOOMED MERCH HAS DROPPED!

No this is not a drill - after touring the world (that is ending), probably the coolest merch I will ever release is finally here - we have scoured the corners of the earth to pull together a collection of WE'RE ALL DOOMED! merch to celebrate the recent show (and slit) and bring it online for you.

From the tour date t-shirt, to the iconic DOOMED ambigram hoodie, the black metal longsleeve and ..the 'DanHub tee' - choose what your apocalyptic aesthetic is.

WORLDWIDE: shop.danielhowell.com USA: us.shop.danielhowell.com EUROPE: eu.shop.danielhowell.com AUSTRALIA: au.shop.danielhowell.com

As a SPECIAL (wow) online-only offer - every order of the super limited quantity Vegan Leather Jacket (with rapture art on the reverse) will also ship with a totally unique Polaroid selfie that I took while thinking about death! 

I make no promises what I will be doing - it could be a cute smile, or a middle-finger. It's just whatever the vibe was in the moment. Who knows what someone will trade for the rare under-chin angle that some lucky person will get? (I am so sorry)

And it's not just garments - we've also got rare collectors items to snatch including the interval playlist cassette tape, and the 'Tears of My Enemies' water bottle, that I drink out of myself everyday while manifesting people's downfall.

Lastly, look out for the signed Ally Pally London show posters commemorating the final performances, which may come with fingerprints allowing you to perfectly fraud my identity, due to my left-handed sharpie smudging.

I want to say thank you to the tens of thousands of people that tuned into the stream to celebrate my show - without you it wouldn't have been possible to capture for posterity and now the message can live on. I'm going to begin my quest to determine where DOOMED will live forever, and who knows if we'll manage to wrangle any of the other rare itemz🐝 along with it in the future. I appreciate you all and I can't wait to see you all looking gnarly as fuck scaring the normies in this merch. Thanks 🖤 - Dan

#danielhowell #wad #doomedtour

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

[callsigns-haze]

Behind the scenes, we ain't so clean

pairing: young!president!coriolanus snow x fem!first lady!reader

summary: you both are so composed until it comes to the bedroom stuff

warnings: smut, spanking, fingering, unhinged coryo, work sex, dominance, short fic

A/n: This is my second hunger games post so I hope y'all enjoy!

He's soft. Or at least that's what Y/N thinks about Coryo.

There has always been an oral rule between you and Coryo: if one of them needs anything, say it. However, you don't not want to harm Coryo's feelings. You don't think telling him he's too amazing in bed will work very well because of his large ego.

You're nibbling on your bottom lip and bouncing your leg up and down on the edge of your and Coryo's king-size bed because of this. Usually, you would go nibble on the tips of your nails, but you received a manicure lately, and you're unwilling to feel like you squandered the money.

You get up and begins pacing, thinking about what you should tell Coryo you want to carry out in bed . The ideas are followed by images of him performing these dirty things, and you begin to feel a little moist between your legs, knowing you must stop so you can keep your head clear when the discourse begins.

"Achieving your steps in?" Coryo's raspy voice reverberates throughout the massive bedroom, making Y/N weak in the knees, and you can't wait to see how dark and rough it can get as he vents his sexual frustrations while dominating you.

"Oh! Hi!" You rub the back of your neck, feeling uneasy for no apparent reason, and stands with your knees at an unnatural angle, appearing bent into each other. "W-What're you doing home so early?"

"You're not thrilled to see me?" He smirks, prancing over to you and throwing his arms around your form, pulling your to his body. "Well?" His forehead rubs into yours, urging you to respond, nipping your lips for encouragement.

"M'happy to be able to see you, too." His hands slide downward to grasp your bottom, causing your to groan against his lips because, while it feels nice, you crave more.

"How was the office?" You ask him as he sits down upon the bed. "Busy but we managed."

"Spank me." It comes out more unexpectedly. You had intended to take things slowly and ease the discussion along, but your rapid mind had other ideas.

"What?" Coryo asks amusingly, tilting his body back to get a better look at you.

Y/N is ashamed and unsure if you want to proceed with the chat you had in your brain. "Nothing," you rush out, burying your face in his chest.

"No, no," Coryo insists, tugging your up by your hair, causing Y/N to have a tiny orgasm just from the mild manhandling. "I guess you meant 'spank me'?"

------

I'd never done anything exactly like this before, but thankfully for Coryo, I've always been someone who is willing to try new things. That's why I didn't mind when he tugged my skin tights and knickers all the way down to my ankles, curtly instructing me to take my 'Heels off'.

So I kicked them off, standing much more easily on the floor while my elbows supported me on top of his wooden desk. I believed he casually flung the shreds of material away before stroking both of his enormous hands up both of my legs, reaching the back of my thighs and causing goosebumps to appear on every inch of flesh.

He hiked my black skirt up over my hips, exposing my rear to him, and I heard him take a sharp inhale before smoothing both of his hands over my bottom cheeks.

"I'm going to spank you, okay?" He breathed and I gulped, nodding.

I was shocked as he abruptly grabbed on my hair, forcing my head up, my ass pressing into his powerful bulge as his lips skated harshly over my stretched neck.

"Okay, what?" Coryo seemed annoyed, and I assumed that the more I spoke, the more he would praise me rather than growl at me.

"Okay, spank me," I replied. "Please, please spank me."

He squeezed at the cheeks, satisfied with my words. "That's it. Go on, sweetheart, beg for it."

When his hand came down again, I let out a yell and felt each of his rings on my searing flesh. When his palm spanked me again, the left side of my face pushed to the desk and nudged forward, and I let out a delighted groan.

"Good girl, Y/n," he said. "Good girl, for me." I waited for his hand to spank me again, but nothing happened, so my brow wrinkled and I arched my back, looking for his hard hand.

"You've had enough, baby," he said softly, stroking and caressing the inflamed spot he'd battered.

I whined, pushing my ass out further. "More," I breathed. "Want more."

I had no idea my eyelids were closed until he tugged on my hair again, lips pressing to the region just behind my ear and sucking softly before skimming his teeth over the flesh. I gave a throaty groan as Coryo hummed and thrust his hips forward.

"Felt good," I praised him.

With two of his fingers running up the folds and then circling over my swelled nub, the hand that wasn't in my hair ran across my front, diving between my legs and coming to rest in my centre, causing my eyes to flutter shut. "You're so wet, I can—"

I pushed back against him while whining and pleading for more—for him. With a moan, he jutted his hips forward and his fingers moved more quickly inside of me. It felt exhilarating, but it was definitely not how I wanted it to end. Despite my right hand's strong grip on his arm to stop him, his strength overcame it and he kept digging his fingers in and out.

"N-no, not like this," I groaned ineffectively as Coryo continued to accelerate. "Coryo, stop." I whimpered, trying to get his fingers out from between my thighs and picturing how he would feel inside of me.

He said, "Come," but I shook my head. "You believe you have a say?" His fingers were working quicker than before, and he nearly laughed.

"Good." He gave me praise and helped me get through my orgasm till he felt that I was too sensitive and pulled his moist fingers away. My eyes closed, my chest fell back against his desk, rising and falling as I struggled to gather myself and find my breath.

"I don't-" I let out a startled cry and shuddered when I felt Coryo's shaft poke its way out of my door and then easily slide in.

"One more?" Warm hands gripped my hips as he filled me to the brim, my overstimulated insides convulsing around him as he spoke.

"N-," I whined shakily, feeling him pull almost all the way out before slipping back in.

"You certainly can," he said. "Baby, just one more. Please give me one more. With pleasurable, plea-laden words, I could only picture the sight on his face. I couldn't take my eyes off his desk to see what was going on, but I figured he was biting his lower lip and that my tight walls were squeezing him tight because to his enormous length.

"You can. Just one more." Coryo let out a few short, breathy gasps, and I did my best to get myself off his desk.

He felt so good being close to me, so comfortable, so completely full. I didn't believe my body could handle it, but before I knew it, I was groaning like before as he filled me up each time he sank in and out.

Then, there was a loud and clear knock at the door, making us freeze and bulge our eyes out of our sockets.

"President? Mr. Jackman is here for the hunger games debate you booked, but you're not answering." Said a clerk through the door.

"We'll finish later, darlin'"

Hunger games taglist:

@rosiahills22

@shanimallina87

@callsign-magnolia

@hardballoonlove

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@buckysteveloki-me

@hookslove1592

@kmc1989

@callsign-dexter

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games fic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagine

[outsideratheart]

A Night To Forget (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: What a shit show that game was. What were they doing? They do know it was a must win in the title race right?

The tackle in this fic was based off this video.

Leah knew that she played a big part in Arsenal’s shocking performance. Never did she think she would let her frustrations take over in the way that they did. 

You were having a near perfect game with scoring the opener and assisting the other two goals. Arsenal were playing into your hands and they were making it easy for you to dance around the pitch. 

It was near the end of the game when the away team was beginning to get sloppy with their tackles. 

Erin had played you a lovely through ball and you were off. You saw Leah running at you but even she knew she wouldn’t be able to match your pace if you got free. It’s what lead her to doing what she did. 

As she stuck her foot in she missed the ball completely and her studs connected with the inside of your knee. You were on the floor in agony within seconds. 

“What was that!” Erin shoves Leah backwards, far away from you. 

“I didn’t—it was an accident” 

“Bullshit” the Scottish woman was furious. 

Meanwhile you laid on the floor clutching your knee. You didn’t hear a pop but you can’t lie and say the three letters weren’t floating around in your head. 

“Speak to us Y/N” one of the physios told you. 

“ACL?” It was a question that you dreaded the answer to. 

Leah heard you say the three letters and she thought that meant that was the diagnosis and it made her feel sick. The referee had given her the red card but she refused to leave the pitch, not until you had. 

“I didn’t mean to Lia” your girlfriend tried to get closer to you but this time it was her team mate who pulled her back. 

“Give her space” Wally hated to admit it but the tackle was bad and she wasn’t sure what your reaction would be to seeing the blonde. 

The physios removed your hand from your knee so they could access the injury. When you saw your hand it was covered in blood. Clearly the studs have cut you and from the amount of blood it must have been bad. 

“We don’t think it’s your ACL. We need to stitch you up so you obviously can’t continue” 

“I’m not getting on a stretcher, no way” 

The two physios look at each other, shake their heads and laugh a little. They knew full well that you wouldn’t get on a stretcher if you could walk. 

“We know but you will let us help you” you nod your head. Guro, who remained by your side, helped you up and took the place of one of the physios. 

You see Leah and it’s enough to make your blood boil. 

“Y/N. I didn’t—“ 

“Stay away from me Williamson” it was as impersonal as it could be and you meant every word. Leah was the last person you want to see right now. 

“Please I—“ 

Again she was cut off but this time by the Norwegian. 

“No! You heard her. Stay away” 

Leah stopped in her tracks. You never let anyone talk to her like that. That is until this moment.

Millie was waiting for you at the sidelines and the look she gave Leah was one of disappointment. Never in her mind would your girlfriend do anything like this to you. She was your biggest protector but tonight it was her you needed protecting from. 

The full time whistle is blown and the member of staff that had been sat with Leah tells her she can go back out. She lingers at the door to the Chelsea locker room where she he hears you laughing with Sam, Millie and Guro who must have been subbed off. She is in two minds whether or not to knock. She knew she wanted to see you but did you want to see her? If your previous reaction was any indication then the answer was no. 

Leah was doing her lap and was just near the end of the away stand when she heard the stadium break out into cheers. When she looked around to see what was the cause was, she saw you. She saw you walking near the home bench wearing a black compression sleeve and a matching knee brace. Millie was carrying a pair of crutches but laid them on the bench. 

You were injured. Leah didn’t know what the damage was but she knew that you were hurt. She also knew by the looks on your friends’ face that she wouldn’t get close to you right now. 

It was a hard thing to process for you. You tried to masque your hurt with a grin but it wasn’t very believable. You wanted to celebrate with your team, this win was huge, but your mind was elsewhere. 

“She didn’t mean to” Sam, of all people, came to Leah’s defence. 

“And that means I can’t be mad? You saw the replays, she could have ended by career with that tackle” you didn’t know what to feel, you didn’t know how you should feel. 

“But she didn’t” 

“Why are you defending her!” You covered your mouth in case a microphone and camera on you. 

“Because no one else will and you know it” Sam really was trying to do the right thing but maybe it was wrong of her. 

“Well then she shouldn’t have done it” your response was scarily calm. 

The girls in red stayed clear of you and rightly so. It was only Alessia that was brave enough to come to you. 

“You’re very annoying to play against. Good game tonight, you deserved to win this one” her genuine words earned her a smile. 

“Thanks Less” you pulled her in for a quick hug as you walked down the tunnel together. 

“Is it bad?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer “Leah was asking about you” 

“Well you can tell Leah that I don’t know the severity of the injury she caused” 

“But it’s not, you know….” the forward daren’t speak the words that had now rivalled the Macbeth superstition. 

“No. I needed stitches and the brace is because the two cuts are on the joint. It’s so I don’t reopen them” 

Leah looked up at the sound of Alessia entering the locker room. She saw you through the gap, immediately stood up and started walking towards you. 

“Y/N” she begs you to look at her. 

“Thanks for checking in Less. I’ll see you at home” you didn’t address Leah but you did look at her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing though because there was a numbness in your gaze. 

She waited and waited in your shared apartment. Hours passed and she was close to giving up, she thought that you must have changed your mind. Could she have blamed you if you had? 

Leah blew out the candle, your favourite one, and turned off the lamp. Just as she got into bed she heard the front door open and close. She was on her feet in a flash and running towards you. 

“Y/N. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry” 

“What were you thinking? It was sloppy, dangerous and unnecessary” 

“I needed to stop you. I hadn’t been able to stop you all game” 

That was her defence and you found it pathetic. 

“You played terribly Leah. I won’t stand here and sugarcoat things. You made mistakes but this wasn’t one of them. You knew exactly what you were doing when you came flying in” 

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I—” Leah pauses for a moment. She didn’t mean to hurt you but she also couldn’t know for sure if her subconscious wanted to stop you by any means. 

“You didn’t mean to hurt me but you knew the tackle was reckless and it could end badly yet you did it anyway” 

When you put it that way Leah found herself agreeing with you. 

“I love you Leah but I have every right to be mad at you. You can’t dismiss my feelings“

That wasn’t Leah’s intention but she knew that was what she was doing. 

“I’m not. I mean I won’t. Do you want space from me? I can sleep on the sofa or even go to one of the girls’ houses” Leah was ready to give you your space if that is what you wanted. 

“No, I don’t want that. I just want to be mad for a little bit but I can do that with you in bed beside me” 

Leah found herself smiling. She was in trouble, big trouble, but you were going to forgive her. 

“Don’t be surprised if I punch you in my sleep. Dream me might want revenge. Now carry me to bed. I don’t know how you put up with this thing. It’s so annoying” 

Just when Leah began to forget about what happened, you remind her. To be fair the black brace was very bulky and hard to ignore. 

“How bad is it Y/N? Tell me the truth, please” Leah carried you bridal style whilst waiting for the verdict. 

“8 stitches and I have to wear the brace while they heal” you told her everything that you knew. 

Leah laid you down gently on the bed and her fingers lingered on the velcro of the brace. You knew what she was asking without her having to open her mouth. You lean forward and undo the straps. Gently you pull the compression sleeve down, revealing the ugliness of the injury. 

Your girlfriend gasps and takes a step back. She hurt you, she hurt you really bad. When you first started dating she made a promise to never be the reason for your pain, only for your happiness. She broke that promise tonight at Stamford bridge. 

“I have a hospital appointment for scans tomorrow morning. They don’t think there’s any serious damage” 

“I’ll take you” Leah tells you. 

“Damn right you will Williamson. I am clearly in no shape to drive” 

“Please don’t call me that” you could have sworn you saw Leah shrink in size “Call me Leah if you have to, but not Williamson” 

Here’s the thing. Leah loved nicknames and you called her plenty of them. Each had a different meaning and you used them in different scenarios. It’s why this struck her so deeply. 

“Leah” you wait until she is looking at you “come to bed” 

The blonde does as told but she does it goes so gingerly. You were fragile in her eyes and no way was she going to hurt you more. 

That night the two of the slept poorly. That is until you pull Leah into your arms. You tried your best to forget about the incident because you knew Leah blamed herself for the loss. In this specific moment she simply needed to be held by her girlfriend. 

#woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #Leah Williamson x reader #Leah Williamson one shot #Leah Williamson imagine #awfc x reader #awfc one shot #awfc imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt one shot #engwnt imagine

[2hightocare]

IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN

Synopsis: in which jungkook makes you realize a perfect man may exist…

Pairings: nonidol!jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship!

Warnings: pure on fluff, Jungkook being a gentleman, oc crying, gguks love language ‘gift giving’

Jungkook has always been a gentleman, following the sidewalk rule, opening doors, assisting his mom with groceries, and even pulling out chairs. He considers these actions the bare minimum.

When Jungkook met you, he found himself doing everything possible to make you happy. He started buying you flowers every other week after learning about your love for them and how your dad used to surprise you with bouquets as a little girl. Jungkook would research the meaning of each flower before showing up at your door with them, sometimes accompanied by your favorite coffee or snack.

The pink tulips Jungkook got you two days ago now sit beautifully in a vase on your vanity. "Care and good wishes, baby," he whispers the meaning of the flowers against your mouth, making you break into a big smile.

…

As an avid reader of romantic books, you would often find yourself on Jungkook's couch in your pajamas and fuzzy socks while he either slept or watched television with his head on your lap. He would playfully toy with your socks as you read, and your black-framed reading glasses would rest on your nose. "My glasses are so dirty, yuck," you scrunch your nose, cringing at their fogginess before taking them off.

“Give 'em to me," Jungkook says, raising his hand. You place the glasses in his open hand, and he uses the back of his shirt to carefully wipe them down.

These unasked-for gestures release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, making your cheeks hurt from smiling. Most times, Jungkook doesn't even notice he's doing these things; they happen subconsciously. Like when he drops to his knees immediately upon noticing your untied shoes, tying them with bunny ears before creating a bow perfectly, not too tight or too loose, just as you like them. He then stands up, acting like nothing just happened.

You'd express gratitude often for everything he does, but he would consistently shut you up with a kiss, saying, "It's the bare minimum, baby. I wish I could do more."

During your girls' nights, your friends occasionally felt a twinge of envy as you recounted Jungkook's thoughtful gestures. You'd share how he bought all the books you had saved in your Barnes and Noble cart, leaving them outside your door along with a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Your sister, overwhelmed by jealousy, almost cried out, "Oh my god, when will I get myself a Jungkook!" she groaned into her hands, eliciting giggles from you and your mom. "No, seriously, like what the heck!" She continued, making you laugh even harder while recording her tiny tantrum on the phone you held in front of your face.

"Can I at least have one strawberry?" your sister muttered, creating a small window with her hands covering her face as she peeked through. Your mom burst into laughter, trying not to choke on the water she had just been drinking.

You quickly sent the video to Jungkook before admiring the stack of books wrapped in brown kraft paper, neatly held together by a pink ribbon. The thoughtfully arranged packaging made you reluctant to even open.

Jungkook had always claimed that his love language was gift-giving, using it as an excuse every time you told him to stop spending so much money on you. While he shook his head, saying, "I have the money," your boyfriend justified his actions, making you roll your eyes and then leave a big, fat kiss on his lips.

Reflecting on all the things Jungkook has done and continues to do for you warms your tummy and brings a smile to your face. Jungkook genuinely enjoyed performing these acts, from carrying you or swapping shoes when your feet hurt from your heels to taking off your makeup after you fell asleep with it on, and putting your phone to charge whenever you would forget to.

Your heart races every time you see him, a reminder of how effortlessly you fell in love with Jungkook. His encouraging words during testing week or on days when everything seemed to go wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby? Tell me, I’ll fix it,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks as tears continue to flow down your face.

His words only intensify your tears, causing Jungkook to panic. Not sure what to do, he holds onto you tightly, feeling the pain in his chest grow with each sniffle that escapes you.

“It’s so stupid—” you start to explain, flapping your hands around, only for Jungkook to gently cage them with his own.

“Hey, anything that makes you this upset is not stupid, baby,” Jungkook reassures, kissing your tear-stained cheek. Your hair and makeup are disheveled from crying, and your hand rubs your chest, hoping to take away the ache.

Jungkook watches your movements, sighing as he realizes he can't do anything to take away all your pain. God, how he wishes he could.

Since that day, you find solace in clinging onto Jungkook at every opportunity. His comforting touches, from light caresses to small kisses on your cheek or forehead, become your source of comfort. Each gesture makes you want to shower him with kisses.

…

“Do you want pasta and pizza?” he asks, reaching for a loose strand of your hair and securing it behind your ear before returning his attention to the menu. Leaving you looking at him with hearts in your eyes.

"Hmm," you hum as your head nestles into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. "Sleepy?" he asks, smiling down at you. "Nah," you giggle as he squeezes your thigh, your hand resting on top of his, barely covering half of it. "You should’ve brought jeans; you're freezing," Jungkook suggests, moving his hand up and down your bare thighs. "The skirt was too cute not to wear," you mumble into his shoulder.

"Super cute," he agrees, looking down at your black skirt before attempting to pull it down. "Too short, though," he continues, making you burst into laughter and swat his shoulder.

Jungkook watches your profile as you slurp on the pasta, a rush of love overwhelming him. He'd give you the stars and the moon you love so much without a second thought. He used to roll his eyes to the thought of love back then now, he found himself captivated by the girl with a white headband beside him, chuckling at every 'mmm' you let out when taking a bite.

"I love you," Jungkook says suddenly, making you look up with a mouth full of food. You tease, "Are you dying?" His smile widens, "No, I just wanted to tell you." Jungkook leans down, leaving a quick peck on your lips. Your eyes soften, "I love you."

Moments like this make you wonder: what were you doing without him in your life?

#bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bangtan #drabble #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

[reallyromealone]

Title: ducky

Fandom: hazbin hotel

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Warnings: reader is Jessica rabbit coded, make reader, sexual themes, reader hates Valentino, softcore nsfw, crack treated seriously, Lucifer is a simp, reader cross dresses, reader wears lipstick, the word daddy

Notes: the amount of rewrites boy howdy

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

After every show, (name) had gifts waiting from fans.

Flowers, expensive jewelry and other things were always there but one thing always stuck out to him, an adorable rubber duck dressed like him, wearing an adorable version of the show he did previously. Todays was his pink dress, the jazz singer loved cross dressing and it seemed his admirer noticed every detail of his outfits... It had him swooning! "Oh the note!" He said looking for the rose gold paper with black ink, another joke that was corny and wishing him a good day... Oh he was so wonderful!

It was the best part of his day, really it was.

Before this, his eternity was always so drab... Singing his songs and nothing of interest happening.

"It's time" one of his security guards said seriously and (name) nodded, placing the duck in his suit pocket before leaving with the men and out the back area of the club where the limo was waiting for him.

Not before catching eyes with the one person be despised and was sadly obsessed with him, Valentino smirked as he stepped out of the limo across the street as (name) got into his own faster, not wanting to deal with him especially after a performance. He couldn't stand that moth! The demon had been obsessed with (name) for years along with his little picture box friend, he remembered when they sent him molds of their erections! Disgusting!

(Name) Made sure his driver left faster, not wanting to deal with that man any more than he needed to.

"Your father requested your presence" the driver said to (name) who looked passive "what for?" He asked as a smile found its way in his face as the driver explained about some project the demon was partaking in and wanted (name)s help, the jazz demon excited to see what was taking all his father's time these days "then let's go see, shall we?"

(Name) Was not expecting some hotel on the edge of town "Hazbin hotel?" He mumbled curiously as he walked into the hotel, his driver going on his break and (name) wasn't expecting his father to be arguing with a small blond man "papa?" He asked with a passive Expression, where Alastor smiled (name) kept passive "(name)! There you are!" Alastor said dismissing the other immediately to walk to his son "how was your show little one?" He asked his son who let out a soft huff, amused "it was quite well, what's this shindig?" He gestured to the group of people and his dad grinned.

"I have someone for you to meet"

Everyone knew who (name) was, he was on every billboard across pentagram city and Angel dust knew how obsessed Vox and Valentino were with him, throwing tantrums whenever their wooing attempts went south.

But what they didn't know was that (name) was Alastors son.

"Wait son?! Sinners can't procreate?" Charlie asked curiously as Alastor laughed robotically "he was my son when I was alive, sadly I died when he was little--"'--and I was raised by grandma!" (Name) Continued and they were curious on how (name) was in hell but decided not to prod on that and now that they looked at them, they could see the resemblances.

Height being a main one, (name) just a bit shorter than his dad.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, now why am I here?" He asked his father curiously and the radio demon grinned wider "well you see, we need someone to notice this place and what better than the most popular jazz singer in this place!" Alastor said merrily and (name) raised an eyebrow but sighed "I will on a condition" Charlie was vibrating with excitement as she nodded "whatever you want!"

"I'm looking for someone, I don't know who they are but I have a few clues" (name) pulled out the notes and the duck from his pockets "this person botherin' ya?" Husk asked suspiciously and (name) shook his head "quite the opposite actually!" Charlie and Alastor looked at each other and then the rubber duck in realization as Lucifer looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Dad, is that your duck?" (Name) Drew his attention to the now panicking fallen angel who looked back at (name) stressed out "I think we should talk" (name) said to the blond man who followed nervously, the two going off somewhere as everyone processed what just happened.

"I can expla--" (name) stopped him with a kiss, gently holding Lucifer's face and his thumbs stroking his cheekbones before pulling back "I uh, I don't understand?" Lucifer said dumbly and (name) grinned "I never got a chance to tell you how my day was, awful rude doll~" he whispered to Lucifer and smiled at the smudged red lipstick from his performance on Lucifer's lips "s-so does this mean...?"

"Oh darling, I'm not gonna let you go... But I gotta ask, what's your name? Or should I just call you ducky?" (Name) Teased the other who looked incredibly flustered "maybe baby? Or daddy?" He teased and Lucifer was deeply confused at how this walking sex symbol was related to fucking Alastor but the kiss he was being pulled back into made him forget it all.

"They have been there awfully long" Charlie fretted and Angel dust snorted "he's related to smiles over there, god knows what's happening"

"I'm gonna check on them" she said nervously and Alastor followed, fatherly instincts kicking in as they went to the room the two wandered off too, hearing gasps and grunts and the sound of something knocking over. In a panic Charlie opened the door and Angel dust couldn't hold his laughter at Alastor and Charlie's horrified faces at the scene before them.

(Name) On-top of Lucifer with his suit half off his body and Lucifer was no better with an exposed chest and unbuttoned pants connected to (names) full lack of pants, Lucifer sporting Hickey's and red lipstick all over his body.

"DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?!" Lucifer was exasperated as the two quickly put themselves together and Charlie was traumatized at the fact she saw her dad... Like that.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #lucifer x reader #Lucifer x male reader #male reader #x male reader

[spacedace]

Had a dc x dp brain worm, feel free to use as a prompt <3

Sidenote, I decided to get fancy with the Ancients titles because of course I did lol

Shifting Where = Space (Danny)

Eternal When = Time (Clockwork)

Ever Onward = Speedforce (Ellie)

---

Bruce watched the footage again.

And again.

Again.

It didn’t make sense.

A week ago every television, radio, computer, phone - even the LED billboards - had been taken over to deliver a message. Across the United States. In every territory it held. Every military base. Down in the depths of the oceans where American submarines tried to creep past Atlantian patrols. In the endless cold white of Antarctica. Even far above in the International Space Station. Any place the United States Government had control over, any place one of its citizens found themselves. There was the message.

The face of an entity, human in shape but not in form. Hair as gleaming white as starlight, eyes bright as the twisting dance of the Aurora Borealis, skin as cold and blue as the tail of a comet. The entity wore armor as black as the depths of space with a crown to match, the later glinting and shifting with the twisting birth and death of galaxies. A cloak of nebulae danced down his shoulders, eclipsing the world beyond the entity entirely.

He named himself, jaw tight, expression serious.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms.

The Shifting Where. Son of the Eternal When. Father of the Ever Onward. His Epitaphs many and ever growing. The True Balance. The Bridge Between. The Devourer of Dark. The Last Child of Between. The Great One.

King of the Dead. King of the Infinite Worlds. King of so much more than Bruce had ever even known was possible.

King who had declared war. Who marshaled his endless armies. Who spoke of warnings, of efforts to reach a peace, of trying again and again and again to find a way to not plunge into violence and bloodshed. All things living come to call him King in time, he had no want or need to go out and hurry that along. But there were no options left to him now. He had tried for peace. He had been denied.

He would not see his people suffer any longer. Would not see those he’d sworn to lead and protect imprisoned by fools who had sworn themselves enemies to all the afterlives. Would no longer permit the vicious cruelty to continue.

The message was a final warning.

A final offer.

Three days, Phantom said. The United States government would have three days to release their prisoners, to begin the process of dismantling the laws that made death itself an illegal act.

If they refused, he would lead his endless armies personally in the war to come.

It had not been an idle threat.

Three days after the message, after Bruce and the rest of the Justice League scrambled to try and figure out just what it was it was all about, after Justice League Dark’s members shakily took turns explaining just how powerful the being that had gave that message was and how much danger the world was in should he and his armies march upon their world, war came.

Of all places, it began in a town in Illinois.

The sky shattered like broken glass above, Lazarus Green beyond, and the Dead poured out.

It started in Illinois.

It did not end there.

Bruce watched the footage of it all, eyes burning as he watched every second of CCTV footage, every shaky phone camera video, every news broadcast.

Most of them looked human enough. Changed in death, but recognizably human once. A pair of glowing teenagers on a motorcycle, a writhing shadow twisting about at their command sweeping chaos upon the battlefield. A young woman dressed to perform with hair a literal flame, burning bright blue and snapping furiously as she played devastation upon her enemies with her guitar. A child with corpse gray skin and luminescent green hair, flickering in and out of Bruce’s ability to see as if fighting against a law of existence to be visible, screaming orders to a skeleton crew from his place on deck of a 1700s ship that sailed through the sky, disappearing into clouds before raining down attacks from above.

There was more. Glowing skeletons dressed in the fashions of war spanning every culture going back millennia. Robots with weapons far beyond the technology they had even in the League. Creatures of myth and legend. Things of nightmares.

Leading them all, as he had promised, was Phantom.

He looked younger, smaller. Just a boy, really, a gangly teenager that hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. One holding power beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine, but still just a child as far as he could see, no older than Tim who’d just graduated high school. Frantic research found Phantom appearing as far back as human history, but those sightings had to have been after his death. Bruce can’t help but wonder how young the boy had been when he died, how much of that youth still clung to him through all these eons.

It wasn’t something he’d let him self consider normally, not with something like this.

A dangerous unknown appearing without warning and attacking with unimaginable power and seemingly endless forces. It was something that would normally eclipse everything else. Something that would make Bruce put aside the ache at seeing a face so young twisted in rage.

But.

He watched all the footage.

Civilians were put in the crossfire. Were shot at and endangered. Were left terrified and scrambling for safety in buildings that were rapidly being torn away by stray artillery.

But never by Phantom or his armies.

The dead, in fact, went very far out of their way to ensure civilians weren’t harmed. Sweeping people up out of the way of falling debris. Shielding them from attacks that would have most certainly killed a normal human. Some dead even helped evacuate, ushering a frightened and panicked populous to safety as gently as they were capable of. Some of the less human creatures - giant bear-like beings with horns and fangs and ice edging their burly frames - even rushed forward to offer medical aid.

When the sky shattered open and the armies of the dead swept in, they ignored the town below. They focused instead on what was discovered later to be the base of a secretive government agency. The dead’s fight focused on those individuals in sharp white suits, bearing weapons capable of actually injuring King Phantom’s people.

It was these agents that brought the fight to the streets to Amity Park. That fired recklessly and without thought or care to the casualties they could inflict. That didn’t seem to care if they killed a hundred civilians if it meant hurting just one of Phantom’s soldiers.

Bruce watched all the footage.

And again.

Again.

Phantom had declared war.

Phantom spoke in his message of being out of options, of attempting peace. Phantom gave three days time for the release of captives. Phantom lead armies who fought viciously but never once willingly harmed civilians.

Phantom declared war, but he didn’t want it.

“Amanda Waller has reached out.”

Bruce didn’t turn his attention from the screens before him, eyes burning as he followed Phantom as the King dove away from the middle of locked combat to shield a child from a pulse of green energy from something like a grenade another agent in white had carelessly thrown. The child was crying but unharmed. The left pauldron of Phantom’s armor cracked and shattered from a direct shot from the enemy he’d just been fighting that he’d turned his back on, a glowing green liquid uncomfortably like Lazarus Water dripped down from a smoldering wound.

Clark stepped up to stand beside him as he watched, face worn and tired. The League had missed the first battle, but they’d been quick to appear at the rest. Phantom and his army ignored them unless they put themselves purposefully in the way of the fight. They were, as Justice League Dark had warned, vastly out powered by the entities fighting. A hulking giant knight made of shadow riding a nightmarish steed had driven Clark six feet down into the dirt when he’d attempted to make his way to Phantom directly to try and talk to the king.

The depth Clark had ended up felt like a warning of what would happen if he tried to get close to the king again.

It probably was.

“She said they have intel for us.” A faint twitch of fingers, jaw clenching, voice flat in that way that told Bruce his old friend was fighting back anger with everything he had. “That she has options for how to deal with the insurgence.”

Bruce shut off the monitors.

He’d seen enough.

Now was time to get answers to just what, exactly, Amanda Waller and the US government had done to cause the Dead to rise and rage.

---

Part Two Part Three Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #amanda waller #ghost king danny #ghost zone goes to war #space core danny #ancient of space danny #i'm gonna make ancient of the speedforce Elle a thing if it kills me lol #it just fits so well #Bruce's dad senses are tingling #Fright Knight might have been able to bat Clark away but if Bruce gets within a 100ft of Danny it's game over #Bat-Adoption Papers deployed #BatFam up a new member (or three or six) #Amanda Waller is not going to be as persuasive as she thinks she's going to be when it comes to getting the JL onboard with her plans