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notiddygxthgf · 8 months

Text

2/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: part two! its all smut lol. anyway, like I said, this one shot is finished (just split btw two chaps bc theres 11k words). but if u comment and persuade me who knows! I can always do another. im a whore for ur validation.

★ w.c.; 5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI COOCHIE <3

| come over tn?

| i got smth i wanna run by u first

YOU

| omw.

You stood on Itadori’s porch, finger poised over the doorbell a month after your eighteenth birthday. You had been anticipating to see your best friend, Itadori. But as the door swings open, what you don’t expect is to come face to face with Itadori’s older brother.

Your heart drops, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his appearance. It felt for a moment as if time had stood still since you last saw him. He had only grown more handsome during your time apart. His dark hair was done back into two messy buns, deep bags residing beneath his deep eyes.

Choso looked absolutely breathtaking . His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, showing off his toned physique, while the baggy black sweats he was sporting gave him an effortlessly cool appearance.

His presence exudes a magnetic charm that takes you back to when you were 17. His half smirk sends a wonton shiver down your spine.

“Hey there,” He says, deep, rich voice sending ripples of familiarity throughout your body.

When his lips pull away from his teeth, forming syllables and words, you couldn’t help but notice a small glint of metal near the tip of his tongue. You realized immediately what had seemed so different about him, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“You pierced your tongue?” You blurt out, unable to hide your shock.

Choso nearly snorts, though his eyes never leave yours. “You’re not surprised to see me?” He teases.

“I am,” You retort quickly, trying to regain your composure. “You’re home for the holidays?”

He nods, gaze still fixed on your red face. “Just came home last night.”

That would explain why I didn’t see you, you thought.

“I’m glad you came, though, I’ve been holding onto your birthday gift for a while now,” He sighed, stepping aside to let you into the house but keeping his arm braced on the doorframe.

You slide under his muscular arm, doing your best to ignore the way your body bristled with electricity when you brushed up against him.

You set your bag on the ground near the door, kicking off your shoes and neatly pushing them aside while Choso locked the door behind you.

“It’s in my room,” he said, passing you.

You followed him nervously up the stairs into his bedroom, heart pounding a little louder with every step. This would be the first time you would find yourself alone in Choso’s room, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

As you enter his bedroom, you drank in your surroundings – a rare sight. The room was a reflection of Choso’s personality; band tees all over the walls, sheets laid flat and clean, laundry sitting in a basket in a neat, folded pile – a subtle hint of organized chaos.

It felt both familiar and new at the same time. The air was thick with anticipation, and memories of your whirlwind summer fling with Choso came flooding back.

You brace your hands on the door. “Is Itadori home?” You ask him, hands tracing the doorframe while Choso rummaged through his drawer. You sat on his bed.

“Nah,” he replied casually.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to make sense of the situation. But told me to come over…

“Is he coming?” You tried again, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Choso rose up from the bedside drawer, extending a small box towards you with a slight grin. “Nope,” he said.

The realization hit you like a freight train. This was a fucking setup, and Itadori was the mastermind behind it all.

He wanted you alone with his brother. He knew about your fling with him.

He didn’t notice when the two of you had disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes.

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

He knew.

He had set you up.

Your face was on fire. Still, you took the small box from Choso, an awkward smile on your face, and carefully undid the little bow. As you opened it, you revealed its contents – a tee shirt with Choso’s University crest on it, a glace pendant on a fabric necklace, and a box set of your favorite film saga.

Choso had never given you a gift for your birthday before, at least not anything beyond a card. Briefly, you wondered if it was his way of making up for your 18th birthday party, the one he had missed.

“Choso…” You began, a humorous grin on your lips. “Merch?”

He shrugged playfully, his gaze locked onto yours. “In case you miss me,” he replied, tone teasing yet sincere.

With a genuine smile, you leaned over and hugged him. “I love it,” you had told him.

Choso reached into the box for the necklace, gesturing for you to come closer. You leaned in, allowing him to loop the fabric over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin, your neck as he adjusted it.

He froze. You froze.

For a while, the room was quiet. There was an intense stare-off between you two. Choso cleared his throat, seemingly about to break the moment, but you had other plans. Gently, you gripped his chin between your index finger and your thumb, turning his head back to you.

Gently, you tugged his lower lip down. He stuck his tongue out to wet the corner of his lips in return.

Your breath hitched as your gazes locked, and the air in the room shifted. Choso’s dark eyes shifted beneath your gaze, and you found yourself drawn closer to him.

You swallowed. “How bad did it hurt?” You asked, eyes fixed on the sliver of metal you had caught a glimpse of inside of his mouth.

Choso raised a finger towards his mouth, bringing your attention back to his tongue. “This?” He asked. “Hurt like a bitch, not gonna lie, but it healed up real nice.”

Wordlessly, he stuck his tongue out so you could see it up close. You examined it carefully – it really had healed up rather nicely. There was a small, silver ball wedged into the pink muscle. You wondered how it would feel on your lips, your neck, your body .

Choso closed his mouth. “I got it the first weekend after move-in day,” He explained.

“Why?” You inquired, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Thought it would look hot. What do you think?”

“I think it looks like a pain in the ass,” You retorted. “Don’t any of the girls you kiss complain about that thing?”

“Quite the contrary,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Why’d you ask?”

You tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled up inside of you, deep inside of you at the thought of him kissing other girls. You had to remind yourself who you were talking to here. You would have been naive to expect loyalty from a college freshman.

“Looks cold,” you commented instead. “I don’t imagine that would feel very good.”

And his eyes, those dark, beautiful cesspools of emotion, dropped down to your lips, lingering for a moment too long before returning to meet your gaze. “You wanna find out?” He asked.

“Piss off,” You scoffed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. But the blush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had on you. “Fuckin’ tease.”

He didn’t move back. No, instead, he leaned in a little closer. “You sure?” He whispered, warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. “I can show you how good it feels, if you want.”

And that’s how you wound up here, with his face buried between your legs. He kissed his way up and down the skin of your thighs. You made quick work of his twin buns, tugging the ties out of his hair.

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He lifted one of your legs onto his broad shoulder, running his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, pressing a kiss right where your ass met your legs. The metal ball on his tongue felt odd against your skin, but not necessarily unpleasurable.

You had never gone this far with him before. You were turned on beyond comprehension, hungry eyes drinking in the rosey hue that dusted his pale complexion while he sucked on your skin – hard enough for it to hurt, hard enough to leave a mark.

Tenderly, Choso reached for your panties. He appeared to be on the precipice of a decision.

“Can I…” He panted, trailing his thumb over the thin piece of fabric that separated the two of you. “Can I take these off?”

You nodded quickly, lifting your hips up for him while he guided the panties off of your legs.

He licked his lips and parted your legs a second time, fully exposing you to his ravenous gaze.

“You look like heaven,” He breathed out, voice trembling. He took a moment to admire you, smiling at the way you tried to hide your face. “Wanna taste…”

You had never done this before. The one man you had ever dared to hook up with hadn’t bothered. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him get down on all fours and dip his head down between your legs like a man with his head bowed in worship.

Though you were far from holy, in that moment, you felt like you were God.

His tongue was hot and wet against your skin, licking a stripe from bottom to top. The metal ball of his tongue piercing caught on your puffy clit, eliciting a quiet gasp.

“Feel good, baby?” He teased, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. His eyes flitted between you and your pussy – spread open for him like a buffet – pupils blown wide with desire. His pink lips parted around his tongue a second time, and this time you watched him.

Watched him press the metal ball against your clit, rolling over it in slow, steady circles.

You felt like you could die here.

He adjusted his grip on your hips, pulling you down on the bed until you felt his nose pressing in between your folds. He kissed your heat, moaning into you. Then, without so much as a warning, he began to eat you out like a starved man.

“Fuck, Cho–” You cried out for him, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his inky black tresses. You had never felt so good in your life, like he had been waiting for this as long as you had. You were sensitive, far too sensitive to comprehend the way your body felt, the way his tongue piercing felt as it glided over your hot flesh.

He didn’t slow down. He licked, slurped, and kissed your swollen clit, keeping that unforgiving pace up until your hips began to jump against his tongue.

“Shit,” You hissed,

He moaned into you in response, meeting your gaze with an intense fire burning behind his eyes. His tongue massaged you up to what you know would be the hardest orgasm of your life – that damn piece of metal made for one hell of a stimulant. It felt like it was pressing right up into your pressure points, deeper than his tongue was able to reach.

You felt yourself come apart at the seams, reduced to a moaning mess in a matter of minutes, riding his tongue like your life depended on it. He stopped moving for a moment, letting you grip him by the hair and ride his face.

You couldn’t look away.

He looked amazing, fire burning behind his eyes, fingertips biting into the skin of your thighs, brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes never left yours, not even once.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, sitting back and allowing him to resume what he had been doing earlier – that thing with his tongue.

And resume it he did, assuming a more demanding pace this time. It almost made you want to cry – the pace, the ball on his tongue – it was almost too much to bear. It felt so good.

You felt that familiar coil in your abdomen, almost like you were about to cum, then in a moment’s width he had pulled away.

You struggled to regain your surroundings, vision cloudy and hazy with pleasure. You could hear your rampant heartbeat racing in your own ears.

Choso leaned back with a stretch, cracking his neck and licking his lips. The entirebottom half of his face was drenched, dripping with an obscene mixture of your slick and his spit.

He looked gorgeous, even when his face was tinted red.

“Choso…” You breathed, letting a breathless chuckle slip between your parted lips.

He grinned back at you. “Any complaints?”

You didn’t glorify him with a response, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up and over you. You searched for his lips, locking them between yours in a messy, heated kiss. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet.

“Shut up and fuck me, Kamo,” You panted with a grin of your own.

That was all he needed to push you onto your back, diving back in to ravage your lips again. It was all a rushed, passionate haze – he tugged your tee shirt over your head, you shoved your skirt down to your ankles and kicked it off the side of the bed. He leaned back with a stretch to reach for the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side.

Your mouth nearly watered for him. He was everything you had dreamed of and so much more. Well defined arms, pecs, abs – a few tattoos littered the broad expanse of his chest. His torso tapered down into a thin, slutty waist. You let your hand slide down his abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from him as your painted fingernails caught on his toned abs, ghosted over the large tent in his sweats that left nothing to the imagination.

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated. The last man you were with was about 3 inches (which was probably for the better, because it had been your first time). He felt about three times as big as that. Maybe more.

It didn’t take long for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your ass flush against his navel. He reached for a handful of your hair, jerking your head to the side, then uttered against your ear, “G’nna fuck that attitude right out’ta you.”

He left you for a moment while he undid the strings of his sweatpants. You couldn’t watch. You knew if you saw it, you would have doubts.

But you found yourself looking back anyway, right as he had told you. “Wanna reach into that drawer and grab me a condom?”

“Are you um…” You swallowed. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

You knew you were clean because you were so disgusted by the man you had hooked up with before Choso that you’d taken yourself to the planned parenthood in town the day after to be tested. Even if you had used a condom.

Choso’s brow quirked up at that. “No, I don’t have any STDs. I get tested twice a year.”

Oh. Okay.

Again, you didn’t want to think about how many women had taken his dick before you.

“Never gone raw before, though,” He mused quietly, hand rubbing mindless circles over the skin of your ass.

“Really?” You asked.

“Is that a surprise?” He retorted, though he didn’t seem very hurt by your comment. “Can’t babytrap me.”

You thought about definitely didn’t think about Choso being a father.

“Is there any way for you to, like…” You hummed, trailing off. Your inexperience had never been more disgustingly apparent. “Pull out?”

“You’re talking like this is your first time,” he laughed breathily.

You paused. His eyes widened.

“Is… this your first time?” He asked again.

“I had sex with this one guy from my class a while ago,” You said after an awkward silence. “He was small and, like, really bad at it.”

Choso seemed humored by your honest admission, though it came at the expense of your own embarrassment. “Why’d you go through with it, then?”

“I only did it to get back at you,” You turned your head back to the pillowcase below you. With a pout, you admitted, “Thought for some reason that by me having sex, I was proving something. I was younger and stupider, okay?”

“So… you’ve only had sex once?” He asked. You didn’t realize this was an interrogation.

You nodded embarrasedly. Somehow this was more humiliating than being spread open for him like you were right now.

“You sure you want this?” He hummed, roaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was strangely intimate. When you nodded, he sighed. “We’ll go slow, then. I don’t wanna hurt you–”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” You cut him off, finally turning back to look at him. “I can take it, okay? Just answer the damn question.”

Choso leaned down over you, pinning you into the bed, kissing down your spine. “We can… do backshots,” he murmured against your skin. “Want that?”

“Mhm,” You sighed, easing into his touch.

You had waited far too long for this for something like a condom to get in between the two of you. You wanted to feel him. All of him.

Choso rolled back, slipping his tip between your fold and swiping it through your slick. You watched him, watched the way he bit his lip at the sensation, eyes glued onto the place where you met him .

He pursed his lips, letting spit fall from his lips. You watched it dribble down, landing right onto your twitching hole.

That was so fucking hot .

Then, without a word of warning, he pushed the tip in. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, feeling the burn, the stretch of his girth inside of you. He paused for a moment when the tip was the only thing inside of you, brows drawn together, breaths shallow.

It took everything you had not to cry out in pain. You had been waiting your whole life for this.

But, shit, it hurt. He was big. You felt your body struggle to accommodate him.

Maybe some prep should have been in order…

Oh well, gotta see it through.

As if sensing your internal dilemma, Choso reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“You okay?” He asked you.

No . Yes.

“Yeah,” You bit out. “Just… I ‘jus need a minute.”

“Just tell me when,” he pressed another kiss to your hot skin. “You’re doing so good.”

It took you a few more minutes to adjust to him. Every minute, he would slip in a little further, just enough to make your skin hot and flushed. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, throbbing against your spongy walls.

Eventually, you gave him the green light. And, fuck, it was like something inside of him had snapped. He slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush with your ass. He drew out, slowly, then thrust back in again.

It felt like he was pulling you apart over and over again, snapping his hips against yours in a progressively harder fashion.

Choso whimpered quitedly, pausing his harsh movements to change pace. You clenched around him in response, something that made him double over. “Ah, fuck,” He gasped. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He drew back, thrusting into you once more. You felt your whole body jolt forward with a loud moan of your own.

With wild, passionate eyes, Choso pulled out again, leaving just enough room for the tip. Then, he slammed back into you. Again, again, again – he was relishing in the way you cried into the pillow.

“Fuck, fuck,” You chanted, like some sort of sinful prayer. “ Fuck me, Cho– ”

“Might not last long if you keep callin’ my name like that,” He gasped, tangling a large hand into your messy tresses and gripping it tightly.

You drew your brows together, allowing yourself to be lost in the pleasure, the attention he was giving you. What would Itadori think, you wondered, if he walked in on you like this – face down ass up in his big brother’s bed?

“Choso ,” You groaned into the pillow. It felt like he was scratching an itch deep inside of you – not your coochie, but your soul. It felt like you were made for this. “ Choso, Fuck. ”

Itadori slipped into his house with a quiet sigh. He kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the floor, and then reached for his scarf. It had been one long, hellish day. He felt bad making you wait for him, but he didn’t doubt that you would have made yourself right at home in his bedroom by now. You were probably sprawled out over his bed, passed out or playing with his PS5.

He froze when he heard something come from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being moved around, or something like that. There were voices, too.

With knitted brows, he walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Was it coming from up there?

“Fuck, Choso,” He heard a vaguely familiar – albeit very muffled voice – moan.

It was you. You and another muffled voice.

“Choso, Choso!”

“Right there?”

“Fuck– yes! Don’t stop!”

He quirked a brow. Then, with a sigh and a dejected shake of his head, he hid away in the kitchen.

“Please!” You gasped, you fumbled around behind you in search of his hand. He grabbed it, pinning your arm behind your back and thrusting into your sore pussy from a new angle – one that made you feel dizzy. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been going at it. All you knew was that you never wanted it to end, that your mind was a blissful haze.

Your body slid up against the bedsheets – up and down, up and down, clenched fingers leaving wrinkles in their wake.

“Fuck me harder,” You pled.

And fuck you harder he sure did. His chest rolled against your backside, pinning you into the mattress and holding you right where he wanted you. Then he fucked you a little harder.

You were all but screaming his name at that point. “Choso–”

The head of his cock was bullying into you, beating against that spot deep within you that made your feet fly up, rubbing the back of his thighs as if to tell him ‘ keep going’.You gripped the sheets with unwarranted strength, feeling yourself drip and clench around him – hearing the obscene squelch you made when the two of you met in the middle.

“ Fu-u-uck ,” You cried, voice high and weak.

“Quit suckin’ me in like that,” He chuckled, though it was cut short by a deep, guttural groan as you did it again. “ Shit , you want kids or somethin’?”

There was a knot in your stomach. A vaguely familiar warmth that seemed to only grow hotter by the second.

“ So perfect, so wet ,” Choso commended you, licking the shell of your ear, peppering butterfly kisses to the back of your neck. Your name fell out of his pretty lips between a cacophony of sinful noises.

You felt yourself get lost in him, craning your head around to take another look at him. His angelic face, scrunched up with pleasure, mouth hanging open just slightly, pale face dusted with pink. Inky black hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The muscles in his chest and torso rippled.

“I’ve wanted you…” You gasped, trying your best to articulate despite the stimulation he was giving you – it was almost too much. “Since I was young – fuck .”

His hips stuttered. He pulled your hair away from your neck, kissing the junction where your jaw met your neck.

He gripped your hair to crane your head back, slowing his thrusts to long, deep strokes that had you trembling.

“The feeling was mutual,” Choso grunted, trying to keep himself together.

You felt your eyes roll almost all the way back into your fucking head, mouth hanging open, drooling shamelessly on his pillow, his sheets.

You were close. So close.

Those deep, lust-filled eyes of him weren’t doing anything to slow the train that was coming. Each thrust, each slide of his cockhead against your g-spot brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel even better than I imagined,” He growled, and you nearly came right then and there.

He moved his hands so that your hips were up in the air for him, bringing his other arm around your neck to pin you there. When he picked up pace this time, you felt yourself drip – like, actually drip – all over him.

I wanna have his kids .

Your moans and pleas matched the pace of his sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, too. You could hear it. No, seriously, noises like that should have been criminal.

The feeling of being filled by him was driving you up the wall – almost as hard as he was currently driving you into the mattress. You never wanted it to end.

But, shit, it was about to.

“Choso,” You whimpered. He didn’t slow down. “Think ‘m g’nna cum.”

“Yeah?” he gritted out, breath fanning over your neck and your cheek. He reached a hand down, releasing your neck to rub slow circles on your puffy clit – a speed that felt foreign compared to the harsh strokes he was giving you, but not entirely unwelcome.

That was all it took to have you hurling towards the edge, ass jumping up and down to meet his thrust in the middle, to take as much of him in as you possibly could.

“Yeah, shit,” He gasped. He was trying to hold on for you, but you were making it realhard. “G’nna cum for me, baby? Lemme fuckin’ hear it.”

You were all but throwing it back on him, mindlessly chasing your release like a bitch in heat. The moment you got the green light, your orgasm snapped. You cried out his name one final time, arching your back all the way into the sheets, spasming wildly around him. The shock tore through you in waves.

Your hips jolted with hypersensitivity while he fucked you through it.

Choso’s hips stuttered. He twitched, like he couldn’t take another minute of this, then he remarked, “That was so fuckin’ hot, holy shit – fuck, wait–”

He slid out of you rapidly, leaving you to gasp at the sudden loss of him. The next thing you know, he was stroking himself to completion. He came with a broken whimper of your name, spurting ropes of warm cum all over your back.

You took a moment to catch your breath. He did the same. A few moments, actually.

The silence that followed was deafening. He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. You collapsed into the bed.

He had left the bedside at one point, though only for a moment before he returned with a warm wash rag. He cleaned his love paint off of your spine.

Then, tossing the rag into his hamper, he collapsed next to you.

You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him with all of the strength you had left in you (not much). “Shit…”

“Shit,” he agreed, licking his lips. “You were great.”

“You were better,” You said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home tonight, though.”

Choso shrugged. He reached down, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Sleep here, then.”

Sleep here.

You recalled many nights of him walking girls to the door. Choso never let girls stay the night.

He wants me to spend the night with hiim.

You laughed, reveling in the irony of it all. Years and years of pining led you here, to this. “What would Itadori think?”

Choso threw an arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “Fuck what Itadori thinks.”

Your world went black a moment later.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the aftermath of a steamy evening with the man of your dreams. Choso, your best friend’s brother. The one you had fucked.

His lips were pressed into the slightest pout. You watched him snore, taking note of how peaceful he looked while he slept, taking note of the way his tousled black hair fell into his pretty face.

With a contented sigh, you reached for a shirt that lay nearby – his shirt. The one he had taken off yesterday. You slipped out from beneath the covers, padding quietly out of Choso’s bedroom. Your feet were quiet against the wooden steps.

As you entered the living room space, you contemplated sneaking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed sustenance. It had to have been later in the afternoon at that point – you assumed that you and Choso had been sleeping for a few hours, at least. Your stomach grumbled in agreement.

Just as you were about to step into the familiar kitchen, however, you froze. There, sitting at the table, munching on a Kit Kat bar like it was no one’s business, was her best friend.

Itadori.

“Hey…” You said rather awkwardly, heart racing. “You’re… you’re home.”

Itadori quirked a brow, looking you up and down curiously. His eyes noticeably lingered on your neck, right were you had a sneaking suspicion Choso had marked you with his lips and teeth.

“Hey,” He finally said. “You two finally done up there?”

“You heard that. Of course you did,” You sighed, dropping your stiff arms and plopping into the stool next to him at the kitchen island. You faceplanted into the cold surface, groaning, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know my brother’s good in bed,” Itadori took another bite. He placed a heart over his chest, feigning an exaggerated cry of, “ Choso– oh, Choso, don’t stop, I’m cu–”

“He told me you weren’t coming home,” You groaned, even louder this time. You were glad that Itadori couldn’t see the nasty shade of red that had painted your features.

“He lied,” Your best friend chuckled, crumpling the wrapper of his Kit Kat bar and tossing it in the trash bin. He stood off, dusting his hands on his pants, reaching for his phone. Then, like nothing had happened, he said, “I’m ordering Chinese. You want?”

You raised your head at that, taking a slow glance at the room around the two of you. “I could go for some beef and broccoli…”

You loved the bond you had with Yuuji. Unbreakable, truly. Sometimes a little toocomfortable. This was, undoubtedly, one of those times.

Itadori dialed a few numbers into his phone. He paused, raising his brow again, “I think you’ve had enough meat tonight, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You sighed, though you laughed a bit at his joke.

Images of Choso flashed through your mind. The image of him spitting on the tip before slipping it in. The image of him tangling a fist in your hair, craning your head back to look at him while he pounded you into the mattress.

With a faint smirk of your own, you remarked. “You’re probably right. I should save room for all of the meat I’m gonna be eatin’ tonight after you go to bed.”

“Please shut up,” Itadori sighed, running the palms of his hands over his exasperated face. With a shake of his head, he held the phone up to his ear. “I really don’t want to think about my brother putting his dick in you. Not while dinner is also in the question.”

You shrugged. Your phone buzzed. Turning it over, you read the new message you had received.

CHOSO just now

Whered u go beautiful

Your phone chimed a second time.

CHOSO just now

Steamed dumplings n fried rice plz

You turned the screen over with a grin, telling Itadori. “Your brother wants steamed dumplings and fried rice.”

“I’d say fuck my brother, but tonight’s game night and I don’t want you taking that literally,” Itadori sighed. Still, he unmuted himself, telling the woman on the other side of the phone, “Another order of fried rice and dumplings, too, please.”

Yuuji Itadori really was the best friend a girl like you could ask for.

a/n: hi there my little steamed dumplins <33 lmk what u thought!!! I love reading ur comments and dms. again, this is a one shot, but I would totally drop another part if yall would like -- gotta show papa choso some love. comment and lmk what u think pookiesss

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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ellieslittlewh0re · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

* ೃ⁀➷ part 2 - part 3

pairings - farmers daughter! reader x farmhand! ellie

summary - your dad hires a stranger to help out around the farm

additional tags - inexperienced but flirty reader, shy/loser ellie, cowboy boot wearing ellie, mutual pinning, slight masturbation mention (e!), e! w/ a southern accent??, eventual smut, (nothing too crazy happens in this part it’s mostly just setting vibes lol)

Beads of sweat collected on the bridge of your nose, and your thighs stuck together as you sat on the porch swing, just lazily swinging back and forth, using your tippy toes to keep the momentum going.

You look out over the vast pasture- green as far as the eye can see, with nothing to distract from the country landscape except for some power lines out in the distance.

Even with the sun starting to set- it was still unbelievably hot.

"Keep goin' like that and you're gonna die of a heat stroke."

You yell to your father who was working under the hood of his rusty truck. Usually, he pays no mind to your nagging, but this time it seemed to work- or perhaps he was just finished for the night.

He shuts the hood, slamming it with a metallic thud before wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

His boots rang loudly against the hallow wooden stairs of the porch, looking down at you through bushy eyebrows.

"I don't need your sass, kid."

You roll your eyes at his comment. He's always been stubborn and tough, but in his old age, you can't help but worry. His cheeks have hallowed over the years, sun spots forming from the countless hours working on the farm, and his movements became slowed from the hard work catching up to him.

"I wouldn't sass if you'd just listen. Seriously, it's okay to hire someone to help. no one is gonna shame you for that." You pester affectionately, standing from the swing to open the screen door and enter the house with him following behind.

You follow him to the kitchen, listing all the reasons why he should have help.

One: he's getting old.

Two: his knee has never been the same since he had that operation done 4 years ago.

Three: the farm is too big and demanding to tend to alone.

"Okay- enough.. you sound just like your mother sometimes I swear." He hold a hand up, pausing you mid-ramble, and takes a sip from the glass he filled from the tap.

You pouted, and once again, your suggestions felt shot down.

He finishes the water, wiping his beard with the back of his hand.

"I actually have someone comin' by tomorrow. They were recommended t' me by Phillip at the feed store."

Your eyes lighten up, a smile grows on your face, and you finally feel like you can breathe, knowing that the hardships wouldn't be your dads alone anymore.

You rush around the kitchen island, placing a kiss to your dads cheek and squeezed him tight.

"Thank you! I can't wait- I'll have to bake em' something sweet tonight."

"Alright- settle down-" he pushes you away slightly with a smile on his weathered face. Truly an adoring annoyance that only a parent could love.

Your old man calls it a night, showering and off to bed he went, but you? Oh- you were busy. You tried your hardest to keep the sound down to a minimum, bowls, and kitchen utensils splayed on the counters.

A small apron draped around your waist, flour smudged on your cheekbone as you pulled the blueberry scones out of the oven. A satisfied smile grows on your face as you observe your work and finishing of the pastries with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Maybe, you were going a tad bit overboard, but the truth is, you were painfully lonely. The only time you had any visitors on the farm was when you held pumpkin patches in the fall, but even then, it was always young families that didn't bother to stay around for too long.

You go upstairs, a slight pep in your step as you did so. You showered and put in your favorite pajamas- a short, soft floral patterned dress with bows that secured the straps.

You tossed in bed, sleep not being in favor since your mind was still wide awake. You try to picture what they would look like- what they sounded like.

Was he tall? Around your age, or is he just another old man like your father? Maybe they're not a man at all.

It's best not to get ahead of yourself; whoever this person is, they are coming to work for your dad and not to become your friend.

You slept lightly, and your senses became more aware as a muted thud rang outside your second-story bedroom window. You open your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleepy confusion as dust particles dance in the sunbeams of your room.

It took you a few seconds to realize why today was so important, but once you remembered- it had you scattering out of bed to your window, pulling back the sheer laced curtains, and taking a peak outside.

There was a truck you didn't recognize parked in the driveway. It was slightly newer than your dad's, but that's not saying much; a simple 2-door with an extended bed, slightly lifted with sturdy-looking tires.

A slim figure stood next to the driver's side door, hands on their hips as they looked up at the house. To your surprise, it wasn't a man at all.

You squint, trying to get a better look at her without realizing how big of a creep you are being.

Her hair shined a brilliant shade of auburn in the morning light, a brown button up shirt with the sleep rolled up to her elbows, slightly flared and worn denim jeans hugged her hips with brown cowboy boots that seemed to match the leather of her belt.

You caught a glimpse of something on her arm, dark lines that disrupted her pale skin. It was a tattoo, although you could make out the details of the design.

She looked the part of someone who knows how to run a farm, but something about her seemed so out of place- almost like she was too pretty for such a dirty job.

While you were too busy eyeing her up and down, you didn't realize she had caught you. She put her hand up, holding it there for a second before bringing it back down to her side. You wave back, a slight wiggle of you fingertips which made her smile.

You watch her walk out of the frame of your window before sitting on the edge of your bed- your fingers grasping at the embroidered comforter. You had this weird feeling in your tummy; it was something you couldn't explain, almost like nausea but also like when you go on a big rollercoaster.

You felt nervous but excited all at the same time. You figured it was because she was around your age, maybe slightly older- shrugging it off as you got up and got ready for the day.

You brush your hair before tying it into two loose braids, finishing it with light pink ribbons at the ends. You wanted to put a little more effort into your appearance today since you're meeting someone new, and as daddy always said, "First impressions are the most important."

You take a deep breath in the last most of solitude of your room before making your way down the stairs, the conversation between the stranger and your father growing louder and louder from the kitchen as you inched closer.

"There she is-" your dad motions an arm in your direction, the stranger immediacy turning to meet your face.

"Ellie, this is my daughter, y/n, and y/n, this is Ellie."

"It's nice t' meet you, Ellie." You said in your sweetest voice you could muster as you walk towards her, holding a hand out.

"Likewise." She smiles, taking your hand in hers and shakes it firmly. She seemed respectful, maybe even a little flustered- seeing that her cheeks started to turn a deep shade of pink.

Upon seeing her closer, it didn't help settle your nerves. She was gorgeous; freckles adorned her alabaster skin, a scar that ran through her eyebrow and upper lip, and her eyes a mossy shade of green with dark, long lashes framing the shape.

She was honestly the prettiest girl you've ever seen but not in the same way you were often described. There was a boyish charm to her that you had never seen before.

"Well- best we get to it then." Your dad chimes in, causing you to let go of the calloused hand that you hadn't realized you were still holding onto.

"I'll see you around Ellie." You just barely make audible to her, bitting down on your bottom lip before turning on your heel and leaving them to do their jobs.

Ellie was almost speechless upon meeting you. Never in a million years did she ever think a girl like you could live in this small country town, but fuck, leave it to her luck- you were the boss's daughter, which means you were off limits.

You didn't make it easy on her either, prancing around in your little summer dress that flowed with your movements, rising dangerously high when you would turn around, almost giving her a peek of your ass.

Ellie swallowed hard each time, the saliva filling her mouth with all the dirty thoughts she had- which mostly consisted of you underneath her, completely naked and trembling after she forced a 4th orgasm out of you.

The sun was starting to set, blanketing the canvas in shades of orange and pink, and to your disappointment- Ellie would be leaving soon.

She was walking towards her truck, slightly dragging her feet from exhaustion, and you're happy she did so. It gave you enough time to run out of the house barefoot, container filled with the homemade goods in your hands.

"Ellie!-" you called out to her which made her turn around, her hand opening the driver side door.

You nearly bump into her, slightly out of breath as you held up the tupperware with both of your hands.

"Sorry- I made them last night, must've forgotten in to give 'em' to you earlier." Again, your voice is so sweet and innocent- like honey coated candies on her tongue.

A smirk grows on her face, taking the gift from you to inspect them.

"That's mighty kind of you.. oh no, are these blueberries?"

Your face contorts to concern, and Ellie can't help but think how fucking cute you look all worried like that.

"Yeah, why? Do you not like 'em?" You pout, almost like you're on the verge of tears

A low chuckle reverberates in her throat, "I'm just messing with you, doll. They look delicious."

"Meanie."

A few seconds of silence go by, and Ellie looks everywhere except your face, and I mean everywhere- including the plushness of your breast that spilled over the top of your dress - she couldn't have you knowing how red her cheeks are right now.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She said it almost like a question- as if you'd miss out on such an opportunity.

"See you tomorrow, Ellie. Goodnight." You stand on your tippy toes, planting a quick kiss on the rounds of her cheeks, and run back inside, leaving Ellie in full panic mode.

She gets into her truck, taking a moment to herself before turning over the engine. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel as she replays it in her head. She felt like she could combust, literally and figuratively- her head came down to rest on the wheel, and her cheeks ached from the smile that wouldn't seem to leave her lips.

In fact- she thought about it all night long. When she showered, when she laid in bed trying to sleep, she was tingling, an ache growing inside the depths of her stomach.

I mean, could you blame her? You didn't try to hide how hard you stared or how flirtatious you were towards her.

Maybe you were just like that with everyone.

Still- it didn't stop her. And It didn't stop her hand from slipping into the waistband of her checkered pajama pants, and it definitely didn't stop her from fingering herself to thoughts of you.

She came hard that night, harder than she had before, and she can't help but wonder- if simply her imagines of you felt this good, how would fucking you for real feel?

❥ taglist - @machetegirl109

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princessbrunette · 3 months

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i feel like jayj would call you little girl autonomously one time sooo unserious until he realized that wide eyed look was cos it turned you on. forgot he had a girl w daddy issues for a sec - 🍓

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

he does it around the pogues too! which is so unfair considering you can’t jump his bones then and there.

he’s babbling on about another poorly thought out plan of his, presenting it to the group as he paces back and forth, making a real show of it the way he usually does.

“all i’m sayin’ is, we go in there — guns ablazing and we demand the blueprints back. can’t say no with a glock in their mouth, right?” he demonstrates holding a gun up with his fingers, using you as the unlucky fool who gets to serve as demonstration as he lightly manhandles you for the sake of his point, holding two fingers in a gun shape by your mouth.

“s’too dangerous jj. we have to go about this more calculated.” you huff as a chorus of “no” and “shutup jj”’s follow you from the group.

“uh-uh, i don’t wanna hear it little girl. this shit works, i’m sayin’—”

you don’t hear the rest, feeling your whole body shut down at the nickname. you sit back on the porch seat, swinging your legs happily with a satisfied smile and zoning out of the conversation obediently. after jj has been shot down by the pogues enough times he drops into the seat beside you, wrapping an arm round you and pulling you to his chest, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“you good?” he asks quietly, the two of you removed from the ongoing conversation with the other three.

“mhm.” you giggle shyly, turning your cheek away and he does a double take at your expression, reading you with a knowing smirk.

“what’d i do?” he teases, wondering what’s got you riled up this time. “you turned on by bad ideas? got plenty o’those, shawty.” he jokes and you shake your head, twiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“what you called me.” you admit quietly and he squints, staring off, tonguing at the corner of his lip as he thinks back, trying to recall what it was.

“… little girl?” he raises his eyebrows after a minute or so of digging, turning his body to face you. you nod, avoiding his eyes and he’s smirking once more, glancing around at the group and adjusting his cap as he shuffles closer as to not be heard.

“and i thought i had daddy issues.”

“hey.” you pout.

“nah, nothin’ wrong with that cupcake…” he leans in, mouth hovering over yours. “works out pretty well for me, so…” he grins, closing in to kiss you— soon to be told the get a room by the others.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

#🍓 anon #jj maybank prompt

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macfrog · 5 months

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wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

#happy max monday is this becoming a thing? can i claim mondays? boomtown rats move the fuck over #i just wanted to sit between joel miller's legs and look up at him all dumb and in love ok?#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #jackson!joel #joel miller fluff

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oraclekleins · 4 days

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hello, can you write Joost Klein x musician!reader where Joost and reader met at a mutual friend's party and they hit it off? And they start to develop feelings after a while of being friends!!!

thank you for the request, anon!

Good Luck, Babe!

Joost Klein/Musician!Reader

Fluff, Crushes, 1983 era Joost :-) + Reader is BFFs with Appie!

In the warm summer air, you embrace the night; sprawling out your fingers to trace the stars. The soft glow of string lights from above illuminate the beer you’re nursing in your hands, a dull chill spreading through your palms. You listen to the sound of your own breath in the silence, aside from the soft hum of fire from the pit in front of you, slow and a little raspy. The door to Apson’s house swings open and then closes. It was nice of Appie to invite you in the first place - you never could thank him enough for trying to involve you in his friend group. Usually, you’d politely decline the invitation, not quite having made it past the step of hyping yourself up in the mirror, promising it’d be a good night.

You remind yourself that this was practice for the stage. How were you supposed to perform if you couldn’t even manage to go to one of your best friend’s parties? Grimacing at the thought, you roll your shoulders, a sigh passing from your lips. Apson was the first one to have given your music a chance, having been sat on your bed as you wrote your lyrics, pushing your journal towards him after each edit. He would hum any sort of tune to catch your words, give you some sort of inspiration. It’s easy to be around him, it just feels right ; which happens to make the fear of making a good impression around his friends much worse.

A hand finds your shoulder, heavy and welcoming. You can smell his cologne before he speaks, saccharine and earthy. “Need to go get another case of beer, you coming with?” Apson grins, already tugging you along.

“Of course, yeah,” you’re starting to reply, nearly tripping down the porch steps, your arm catching another body in its stagger for balance.

His face is a bit mousey, grin curious and friendly. “Careful!” He teases, trailing after Apson. He glances back to you - like he’s making sure you’re following, a bit hesitant. You’re well aware of who he is, having seen hundreds of pictures of him and Appie together, flicking through their stories in a muted envy. Joost .

Appie releases you from his grip once you’re tugging at the passenger side door, Joost trailing after you. “Long time no see,” he says, sugary and faint, dying out into a giggle.

You climb into the car. He’s fumbling between buckling his seatbelt and throwing Appie’s collection of mess from the backseat into the trunk.

“You were at Appie’s birthday party, right?” You reply, fidgeting with your hands, beer long abandoned on the side of Apson’s porch.

Joost looks towards you. “Yeaahh,” he drags out the ah , dramatically. You can tell that he’s doing it to make you laugh, searching for your smile after. “I remember you. The singer!” The singer. You can't help but wonder how much you told him, 6 shots deep and in desperation to look like a good, talented friend. The label makes you a little sick, but you nod.

“You as well? I think I saw your album on Instagram - it was good, really good,” the fabric of your shirt is sticking to your chest, cotton-stiff and uncomfortable. You turn to roll down the window, the still heat wavering in the backseat.

“Appie! AC?” You whine a bit, tapping at the driver’s seat.

Apson pauses from sticking his keys into the ignition, glaring at you through the mirror. "Roll down the window! I gotta start the car, man."

You sigh, giving up as your back hits the carseat.

Joost glances over again, fiddling with his phone case. "Really cool you saw my stuff. Now I gotta hear yours, okay?" He offers you an earbud, wire already stuck into his phone.

You feel a little nauseous.

ᯓ★

It hadn't taken long for you and Joost to connect after the party. Embarrassingly enough, when you had gotten his follow request, days passed before you finally accepted it and sent a message. It became a lot easier to speak with him, bonding over being independent artists.

Of course, every glimpse of him on your feed had snuck into your dreams, slipping through them like the moonlight in your window. You're startled awake, chest heaving from the thought of his face. Fingers threading through his blonde strands, tangling them and curling them around your knuckle. The thought feels like praying, knelt at the altar, eager for your next glimpse.

You wondered if he knew.

"You're an up and coming, for serious," he would blurt out after every sneak of music you showed him. The endless praise for your work cycled into daily conversation, asking to see what you were working on- or if he could help with anything.

You couldn't help but wonder how long this dance between you two would go, when every touch became an apology for being too shy. When you could lace your fingers with his, joking about the size of your hands, yet too nervous to nestle your face into the crook of his neck.

You feel homesick when his arm isn't wrapped around your shoulder, peeking over your phone to see what you're doing rather than talking to him. He always knows how to make you look up, smile, giddy just to get a reaction.

When he confesses his 'silly', unripe feelings - it feels like the sky itself had opened up and sang for you.

#hope you like!!#my writing #joost klein x you #joost klein imagines #joost klein x reader #rpf #joost klein imagine #joost klein x musician!reader

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bumblesimagines · 8 months

Note

“it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“just one kiss and i’ll never ask again.”

- Cassie Howard

“just one kiss and i’ll never ask again.”

“it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Pronouns: He/Him, Male

The car ride home from the party had been filled with the smell of beer and the sound of Kat and Maddy's quiet snores mixing together. Cassie sat in the passenger seat, nodding off every few seconds only to jerk her head back upright when she went to doze off. The exhaustion was heavy in the air from the hours spent dancing and drinking.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, you spotted the smudged makeup on Maddy and Kat's faces and the way strands of their hair stuck out in different directions. Cassie looked similar with her wavy blonde locks all frizzy and her mascara mixing in with her eyeshadow from tired eye rubs. But she'd been less intoxicated than Maddy and Kat. With Kat slowly falling out of love with Ethan and Maddy trying to get over Nate, the two girls had cups in their hands for most of the night. Cassie, on the other hand, had promptly sworn off love during the winter dance and she stuck to it by avoiding drinking and ignoring her exes.

"We're here!" You called as you pulled into the driveway, drawing the girls out from their slumber. Shutting off the engine and stepping out of the car, you slung open the back door and scooped your twin out from her seat. Maddy whined and her head lolled back, the moonlight shining down on her cherry-colored cheeks. Cassie and Kat leaned against each other, fingers tiredly typing away on their phones to inform their parents where they'd be spending the night.

"Come on, Mads." You murmured softly, helping her plant her heels on the ground and walking up to the porch with the girls trailing behind. You opened the door and helped Maddy inside, pausing to let her kick off her shoes and leading her toward the couch. The brunette flopped down on the cushions, purse slipping from her shoulder and landing on the floor with a soft thud. Kat collapsed on the loveseat beside the couch, similarly tossing aside her shoes and purse before curling up and dozing off.

"You'd think they ran a marathon." Cassie giggled softly, gingerly setting aside her small purse on the coffee table.

"Dramatic is Maddy's middle name." You grinned back at the blonde and turned on your heel, entering the kitchen and fetching a bottle of water. Discarding her heels and releasing a yawn, Cassie followed after you and took the bottle offered to her.

Taking a swing of the water and wiping her bottom lip, Cassie rubbed her thumb against the label of the water with slightly knitted brows. "Have..." She began and stopped abruptly, her already slightly flushed cheeks darkening. "Have you ever thought about... getting with one of Maddy's friends?"

You blinked at her, eyes flickering over to the sleeping brunette. "Maddy wouldn't like that."

"But have you thought about it?" She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a meek smile spreading across her face. Her free hand toyed with the bracelet on her wrist, hair bobbing as she tilted her head.

"You promised yourself you wouldn't have anything to do with guys again, Cass." You reminded her. The night of the winter dance had been a sobering night for the girls. Kat entered her relationship with Ethan, Maddy accepted her relationship with Nate and saw it as it was, Lexi realized her own feelings, and Cassie made a vow after her complicated relationship with McKay.

"But you're different, and- and it doesn't have to be serious. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” She blabbered, an all too familiar song you heard her foolishly sing to others.

"Cass-"

"We can give it a shot! Just one kiss and I’ll never ask again. One kiss and if you don't like it, I'll drop it.”

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria x male reader #euphoria x y/n #cassie howard #cassie howard x reader #cassie howard x male reader #cassie howard x you #cassie howard x y/n #maddy perez #maddy perez x brother reader #kat hernandez

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thisisourlovestory · 5 months

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Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.1k

Please bear in mind that this is my first fanfic. It will be multiple chapters but release dates are uncertain as I am fairly busy and also procrastination is my best friend. I am open to constructive criticism if you have any. Thanks and enjoy!

Prologue:

The moment President Snow said those words I froze. I couldn’t breathe. Because I could be going back in. Back into the arena. My breath came in short gasps and I leaned against the wall. When I finally gathered the courage to go out the others were already there, Annie, Finnick and Mags. Huddled together in the centre of victor's village, Annie’s face red with tears, Mags opening and closing her mouth in what could only be anger. And Finnick holding himself together, just barely but managing it, holding Annie tightly in his arms as if she was the only thing stopping him from breaking.

I stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden frame of my house, arms crossing my body. None of them noticed me, I was invisible to them. I was the victor they didn't need, I was just a pretty thing for the capitol to put on display every night. Most of the time I stayed away from victor's village and none of them ever made any attempt to get to know me, I guess I just faded into the background for them. It's not really their fault, they didn't expect me to survive my games, no one did, I was just another tiny thirteen year old in the 68th Hunger Games, no allies, no weapons, no food and no hope. Just a pair of worn ballet shoes and a small bag I had nicked to keep them in. I would have died in the bloodbath had a tribute from 10 not stepped in front of an axe meant for me. I remember the blood splattering across my face as he fell onto me, I had pushed him off, grabbed his bag and ran into the forest.

I barely managed to survive, the frozen wasteland was unforgiving, animals were scarce but there had at least been enough water. At the end of the first day there had been eight cannons, the second three, the third five, the fourth two, the fifth another two. There were four of us left, the others all career tributes who had plentiful supplies and an alliance. I was able to hide from them for five more days before they had found me. Their leader, Arion from district 2, had shot me in the arm as I tried to get away, I fell and my blood painted the crystal white snow red. They weren't smart now that I think about it, they wanted to play with me; that was their mistake. I killed the girl first, hit her over the head with my ballet shoes, the hard box disorienting her long enough for me to slit her throat with her own knife, the cannon sounded and I killed her district partner as well, piercing his heart with the same knife. That had only left Arion.

I avoided him for a few days but he found me again, probably following the trail of blood I left behind. Except this time I was ready for him. I struck first, flinging my shoes through the air, hitting him on the temple, a trickle of blood falling from the cut formed. He reacted quicker than I expected, swinging his sword wildly, but I was small and fast- like a little bird my mother always said- I threw the knife in a practised motion, letting go of the handle, spinning it slightly, my hand following the line as it hit him dead centre in the chest. He had stared at me. In shock and disbelief that I'd been able to best him. The final cannon went off and I had won. I was the victor of the 68th annual Hunger Games.

For a while it was okay, chauffeured around, fussed over and doted on by my stylists, I was living the dream of every child. But it got old, I became used to people cooing over me, patting my hair, asking me questions. And then I discovered that even if you get out of the arena, you never truly win, you always have to give back something of yourself, a repayment of sorts. You get to live and we get you was how it sounded when President Snow made me the offer. Except it wasn't an offer, it was an order; that's how I found myself as a Capitol slave at the age of fourteen, performing night and day for the rich, barely getting a second's rest. Dancing until my toes bled through my shoes, smearing red across the delicate satin. Singing until my throat was raw and I coughed up the same red my shoes now were.

The only person who ever offered me some comfort was Finnick. About a month after my games had ended I started having nightmares, I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and he would hear me and come over to make sure I was okay. We formed a kind of friendship, me thirteen and traumatised, him seventeen and still carrying on. He would fall asleep watching over me, reassuring me that I was okay, I got out. We fell into a routine and by the time I was fifteen the nightmares were a rare occurrence. Then Annie won and it all changed. She became the priority for him, the priority for everyone, she had been broken in the arena and her mind never seemed to fully return to her. I thought he would come back to me, but as I woke up screaming one night and there was nobody there to hold me while I cried, as another scream pierced the air; a door slammed open and I saw Finnick running across to Annie's house, I knew I had lost him. I had lost the one person who I had loved and who truly seemed to care about me.

I watched them grow closer to each other. He built her up again brick by brick, unknowingly tearing me apart again piece by piece until I was nothing but an empty shell. He stopped her nightmares, whispering soothing words to her as I tossed and turned, eventually I would wake up, sweating and screaming, eyes wide and frantic as I clutched the knife I kept by my bedside. But no one ever came. I couldn’t blame Annie, she was the kindest person I knew and it wasn't her fault Finnick loved her, it wasn't her fault he didn't love me.

So I dealt with it. I swallowed the pain that welled up in me and buried every thought I had ever had about him deep in my memory, never to see the light of day again. And it worked, I got on with life, going about my daily routine, dancing, singing, eating, sleeping, then doing it all again. I attended parties in the Capitol, laughing and smiling at people, agreeing with their every word. I wasn't happy, but I didn't need to be, I just needed to be alive.

So that was how I found myself after the announcement of the Quarter Quell, watching Mags, Annie and Finnick from the sidelines. My face blank as they comforted each other, not sparing me a second glance. They had all but forgotten I existed. I waited for them to go inside before I ran out of the large gates separating us from the rest of District 4. I ran along the cliffs, wind whipping my hair into a tangled mess. I reached the edge and stood still, staring out at the roiling ocean, grey waves crashing against the shoreline, foam spraying the cliff face. My heart was pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of the sea. The air grew cold around me as my chest constricted and I gasped for breath. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

Tears poured down my face as I sank to my knees and cried. Guttural sobs tearing from my throat, my chest heaving with each one as I clutched the grass beneath me. Fingers digging into the wet soil, clenching and unclenching in time with the beating of my heart as I tried to ground myself. Gradually, my heart slowed and I pulled my hands out of the ground. I breathed shakily, dirt trapped under my nails as I scratched at the skin on my wrist. I lifted it up so I could see the mark laying there. Stark black against pale skin. Forever inked on my body. A trident and a flower, interwoven with each other.

It was a soulmark. It appeared when I turned 17, as they did for every other person. The person with the same mark is my soulmate, they could be anyone. But I already know who it is even if he doesn't. I saw it one night and then when I got mine I knew immediately but by that point it was already too late. He was already in love with Annie. I stared at it, it wasn't very noticeable, easy to hide from people; pretty as well I suppose, then again they say it's the most beautiful things that are the most dangerous. And this mark, this tiny little mark held the power to destroy me if the wrong person so much as caught a glance of it. I let out a soft laugh, how pointless it all seemed now that everything I had could be taken from me again. I had worked so hard to build up this facade, pretending everything was fine and with a few words it had all come crashing down.

I shook my head and stood up, giving a last look to the sea as I turned and walked back the way I had come. People talking about the announcement anywhere I pass, I paid them no mind, holding my head high as my feet hit the cobblestones with sharp thwacks.

“Who do you think will be reaped?”

“It's such a shame really.”

“We only have three victors anyway.”

I ignored them all, they pretended I didn't exist and I'd do the same for them, it's not as if they cared. I finally reached the small gathering of houses the victors lived in and stood outside the gate. The metal tarnished from years of standing in the elements, wooden stakes seeming to wilt under my heavy gaze. I reached out a shaky hand and pushed the metal forwards, opening it only slightly so I could slip in without making the usual clanging sound. I slowly walked towards the fountain in the centre of the square and sat down on the edge, trailing my fingers in the water as my gaze focused on the centrepiece. A mermaid, carved from marble, her hair flowing in the current, tail curving up to the sky, each scale distinguishable. A steely expression was painted on her face, that of a commander, a leader. An odd message from the Capitol, to show the mermaid as being powerful, to show us as powerful, and yet hidden in the water below the statue, in the basin of the fountain, laid a golden net. A message that we had won, but we would always be theirs and we could never escape.

My hand ran through my hair as I hummed quietly to myself, my other hand drifting along the water as I sat cross legged on the edge of the fountain. My eyes wandered across to Mags’ house where they had all decided to go. They were talking amongst themselves, Mags placing a reassuring hand on Finnick's shoulder and him muttering calming words to Annie. I felt sick, all the feelings I had locked away bubbled back to the surface because why could it not be me? Why was it her? What had I done wrong? My eyes watered slightly as I tried to hold back tears at the sight of them being so sickeningly perfect for one another. Not that it should've been me in his arms but it would be nice to know someone cared enough to check up on me, help me through the hard moments in life. Once upon a time I had thought he was that person and look where that got me, in deeper pain than I had been before.

I sighed deeply, taking in lungfuls of fresh air, and started up the steps to my house, the front porch, a few small plants in ornate pots, wisteria growing up the trellis, light purple blooms adding a little something to the otherwise grey picture. I took a last look at them across the square, smiles on their faces as if they had forgotten the news we received earlier. I guess that's what happens when you have people you can talk to, who understand and try to help. I twisted the doorknob, stepping inside, closing the door behind me, leaning against it for support. I didn't notice the eyes that watched me. Or maybe I just didn't want to.

#finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x reader #angst #the hunger games #catching fire #fanfic #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #thg series #implied Finnick x Annie

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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 months

Text

Hi, and welcome to my Tony Stark Masterlist. It is nice to welcome you to my little corner of Tumblr! 💙

On this Masterlist, you'll find all the one-shots and requests that include fluff, smut, and angst, but each story will have its appropriate warnings. If you'd like to check out who else I write for, you can check my Main Masterlist!

I do not work with a tag list. If you want to be kept up to date when I post new fanfics, you can follow @nicoline1998enilocin-library 💙

Stony || Masterlist Stuckony || Masterlist || COMING SOON WinterIron || Masterlist

All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

|| 🥀 ~ Angst || 💙 ~ Fluff || 🔥 ~ Smut || Blue Title = 1K+ notes ||

A relaxing night at home || 🥀 💙 🔥 You've been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and Tony's caught on, so he wants to do everything in his power to make sure you have a nice, relaxing evening at home. This way you won't have to think about work or any other worries for even a second. He will of course join you, because he could use one of those nights himself, too.

Swinging together || 💙 You have always dreamt of having a porch swing on your porch, and now that you and Tony are moving into your new house, this is the perfect opportunity. He will do everything he can to build it before your baby boy arrives and make your little family complete.

Love by the fire || 💙 🔥 Tony has taken you for a weekend away to a small cabin in the woods where it'll be just you two, and no one around for miles to interrupt either of you. The weather outside is cold, but the atmosphere inside the cabin is almost reaching its boiling point as you two can't keep your hands off each other.

I'll always be by your side || 🥀 💙 What was supposed to be a comfortable, easy Sunday turned into one of the worst as you're caught off guard by your period and in horrible pain. Luckily, your boyfriend, Tony, is by your side the entire time to make you feel better and spoil you absolutely rotten.

Spiked candy || 💙 🔥 You've had a crush on Tony for as long as you can remember, but you didn't know he also has one on you. During his annual Halloween party, he makes a move using a project he's been working on for a long time, and they have precisely the desired effect because you couldn't be happier the morning after. Your dream of being his might finally come true after all.

Together forever || 🥀 💙 🔥 You and Tony have been head over heels in love with one another for as long as you can remember. It isn't until someone is getting injured and nearly loses their life that your feelings come out, and both of you wish you would have shared your feelings sooner, especially after seeing how fragile a human life is.

His innocent assistant || 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] Tony's feeling a little needy, and he can't resist asking his sweet, innocent lab assistant for help. You don't like seeing your boss in discomfort, so you're more than happy to help.

[ Part 2 ] Tony enjoys taking you to his parties as his date since he loves to show off his sweet, innocent assistant to everyone willing to hear about you. This time, however, the party doesn't go entirely to plan as he finds you flirting with none other than the God of Mischief himself, and jealousy takes over his entire being.

Everything I ever wanted || 💙 🔥 During your pregnancy, Tony couldn't keep his hands off you, and neither of you could get enough of each other. Now that your twin boys are born, he wants nothing more than to have you pregnant with his babies again, and he'll let you know exactly how he's planning on doing that.

Special assignment || 🔥 You've had a crush on your professor since the first day you followed his classes, but little did you know you didn't precisely escape his mind either. When he asks you to go to his office for a 'special assignment,' you instantly get excited, looking forward to being alone with him.

Mine || 💙 🔥 You've been Tony's PA for many years, and you have both developed feelings for one another over time. When Tony sees you in a beautiful red dress he can't take his eyes off you, and feelings are confessed later that same night. When you spend your first time together it is filled with raw passion, but you wouldn't change it for the world as you're with him.

Mile High Club || 💙🔥 You and Tony have been in a secret relationship for the past seven months, and you're being sent on the first mission for just the two of you since you've become an Avenger. Seeing how the two of you will have nothing but time during the long flight to the other side of the world, he wants nothing more than to make you a part of the Mile High Club.

Warm welcome || 💙 🔥 It promises to be a beautiful night at home with your cat and a rom-com playing on the television when you're surprised by your fiancé, Tony. What was supposed to be a three-week mission turned into a two-week one and a surprise welcome, which you're very grateful for.

Love at first sight || 💙 🔥 Howard and Maria Stark, the current reigning king and queen, are planning on retiring, but they aren't able to until the heir to the throne is married. Their only son, Tony, feels like it isn't the right time for him to get married, nor does he have anyone he would even think about marrying in the first place. This all changes when you walk into his life and turn his entire plan for the future upside down.

"Marry me" || Part 1 || 🥀 💙 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] Tony comes home from another gruesome mission and doesn't stay unharmed this time. As you take care of his wounds, he can't keep his thoughts to himself any longer, and he asks you to marry him in a way you never would have seen coming.

[ Part 2 ] T.B.D.

Bare it all || 💙 🔥 Healing Hearts || 🥀 💙 🔥 || COMING SOON His innocent assistant || 🥀 💙 🔥 || COMING SOON The power of love || 🥀 💙 🔥 || COMING SOON

Don't go baking my heart (Baker!Tony Stark) || 🥀 💙 🔥 The love of my life (Young!Tony Stark) || 🥀 💙 🔥 Lips like sugar (Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark) || 🥀 💙 🔥

Baby, it's cold outside || 🔥 You've just gotten married to the love of your life, and are currently on your honeymoon in one of the most beautiful countries of the world. The scenery you're looking over is absolutely breathtaking, but your husband is doing everything he can to take that breath away in all different kinds of ways. And of course, there will also be lots of snuggles in front of the big fireplace too.

Touched for the very first time || 🔥 You and Tony have been going steady for a while, and you're finally ready to take the next step in your relationship. Tony wants to make sure your first time will be unforgettable and takes out all the stops to make you feel like the most special and beautiful woman on earth, which you will always be in his eyes.

Nice and round for me || 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] You and Tony are enjoying your honeymoon in Switzerland, and you had a little more to drink this particular night than usual. You still can't keep your hands off one another, but when the night gets more heated, a specific kink of Tony's comes to light, and you can't help but indulge him in his biggest fantasy.

[ Part 2 ] The two of you are absolutely in love with each other and your amazing twin boys. The two of them are like angels sent straight from heaven, and now Tony can't wait to make more kids with you. Especially now that he wants a few that are exact copies of you, after having boys that are his carbon copy.

Making a new friend || 💙 You've been dropping hints about adding a little feline friend to your family for a long time, but when it seems Tony doesn't pick up on your hints, you drop the subject altogether. That is until he suddenly shows up with a little ginger cat, just like the one you have told him about all this time.

Like a King || 🥀 💙 🔥 Your husband had a bad day at work, so you decide to treat him like an absolute king. From a nice home cooked meal to a warm bath and a massage, you're pulling out all the stops to make him feel loved and to turn his day around completely.

Falling in love again || 💙 🔥 You've been living abroad for almost a decade, and when you find yourself back in New York, you also find yourself in touch with the man you thought you had said goodbye to forever all those years ago. When the flame reignites, the two of you never let go again and finally live the life you have always dreamt of.

Perfect picnic || 💙 You've been seeing the one and only Tony Stark for the last few months, and you're not ready for the world to know that, so you're enjoying every minute of peace and quiet you two have together. When he invites you for a picnic to discuss something important, you can't help but think about your future together.

Bare it all Part 1 || 💙 🔥 || Part 2 || 💙 🔥 [ Part 1 ] You're on an undercover mission with Tony, and you two have the entire night to yourselves. When you two end up in bed together, you're looking to spice things up a little, much to Tony's surprise. When he finds out your plan, he can't help but fall even more in love with you, and he's not afraid to tell you exactly that.

[ Part 2 ] Your relationship with Tony has been a fairytale, but when you unexpectedly become pregnant with his baby, your entire world is turned upside down. You're not sure how he will react to the news, but you will always have your best friend Natasha by your side, no matter what.

Talk dirty to me || 💙 🔥 You have been asked to interview and shadow Tony for a few months regarding his research in nanotechnology and his life as Iron Man. During this time, the sexual tension builds quickly between you two, and when you can't stop staring at him while he's working, the tension snaps, and you learn about a new kink you never knew you had.

Never grow up || 💙 Your beautiful son came home a few hours ago, and now you witness Tony having a sweet moment with him, making your heart beat faster and filling with love like never before.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart || 💙 🔥 You and Tony have been mutually pining for months, and he finally reveals his feelings during a party—albeit after a few too many drinks. The next day, you go out to confront Tony about it, and what happens next is better than you could have ever dreamed.

Reflection || 💙 🌶️ The sexual tension between you and Tony has been steadily rising for the past few months. After the latest victory tour, it's reaching an all-new height before boiling over, marking the start of a new adventure for you both.

#masterlist #tony stark #iron man

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celandeline · 16 days

Text

Over The Wall

Carl Grimes X Reader, oneshot

Dedicated to @grimesdotcom , as promised :)

You only know a handful of things about Carl Grimes.

There's the obvious things, of course. You know that he likes comic books. Whenever you see him, save for when he’s with Judith, he’s got his nose pressed between the pages, his sheriffs hat and long hair blocking out the rest of the world. You know that he’s a good shot - you’d have been dead when those people with Ws on their heads if it weren’t for him.

Then there’s the things that you know just for yourself. You know that he has the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, even if he only does have the one now. You know that he’s got a terrible farmer’s tan, and that he sunburns ridiculously easily. You know that he makes you stomach do funny flips whenever he smiles at you - you know you’ve got a crush on him.

You also know that almost every day, he disappears over the wall.

It’s always in the afternoon, after Judith’s been put down for her nap. You can see him from your attic bedroom window as he slips out the back door of his house and steals across the lawn, bag slung over his shoulder bouncing as he jogs. He’s by no means a graceful climber - more than once you’ve seen him almost fall - but it never takes him more than a few minutes to swing himself over the top of the wall and disappear.

There’s plenty of things you don’t know about Carl Grimes - chiefly, where he sneaks off to every day. But you’re dying to find out.

So you wait on the back porch of the house you share with Aaron and Eric, with a bag of your things and a knife in your belt, until the afternoon sun hangs in the sky, and you see a distant figure, only recognizable by his sheriff's hat, start towards the wall.

You follow after him at a distance, ducking behind one of the neighbors sheds as he glances behind him before starting to climb. You wait until he’s all the way over the wall before you begin to haul yourself up, shoes slipping against the smooth metal. Maybe you should be kinder to his climbing abilities - it’s harder than it looks.

Still, you manage to swing yourself up and over, quickly surveying the immediate area before carefully climbing down. You jump the last few feet, landing with a soft thump on the ground. You’ve just started brushing the grit off your hands when you hear the click of a gun behind you.

Your stomach drops, and slowly, you turn around, hands raised, to see Carl pointing his little handgun at you. You drop your hands when you see that it’s him. “Really?”

“Oh.” He clicks the safety back on, and tucks the gun back into his belt. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was you following me… why are you following me?”

“How did you know I was following you?” You shoot back.

He gives you a look. “You didn’t even wait until I was over the wall to come after me.”

“I didn’t want to lose you and end up not being able to find wherever it is that you sneak off to all the time.” You say.

“So, what? You’re just curious?”

“Maybe.” You admit, a little sheepish. It sounds so stupid when he says it, like you’re just a little kid who wants to figure out what mom’s hiding in the cabinets you can’t reach.

He rolls his eye, and breezes past you, into the woods. “You could have just asked.”

“You told Ron to fuck off when he asked.” You said, following after him.

“Ron’s a dick. You’re not.”

Your stomach flips at that - it’s the nicest thing he’s ever said directly to you - but you shove the feeling down. “Thanks, I guess.”

He doesn’t say anything, simply leading you deeper into the woods, following a path that’s invisible to you. Eventually, the trees thin out a bit, and he stops in front of a small clearing. It’s obvious that he’s cleaned it up a bit - the ground is largely clear of leaves, and he’s strung a tarp between some of the trees as a makeshift roof. There’s a few logs, arranged like couches, and a few seat cushions that have seen better days. A dirty cooler sits at the base of a tree, and a crate covered with a plastic bag next to it.

“This is it.” Carl says, walking over to the crate and pulling the plastic bag off the top to reveal some comic books. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, this is really cool.” You say. “I mean, yeah, it’s less cool than you sneaking out to kill walkers or something but it’s still cool.”

“Thanks.” He says, shooting you a small smile. “It’s just my getaway from all the people in Alexandria, I guess. Just somewhere for me to be actually alone.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t thought about that - that maybe his routine climbing over the wall had more to do with peace than it did secrecy. “Sorry - I can go-”

“No, it’s fine.” He says quickly, cutting you off. “I mean, I don’t mind… and you climbed over the wall to get here so you should at least rest a little before climbing back over.”

“Yeah.” You agree, smiling. “I don’t know how you do that every day, I already know my shoulders are going to be killing me tomorrow.”

He grins, and sits down against one of the logs. “You get used to it.”

You sit down as well, leaning against the log across from him, the soles of your shoes brushing against the soles of his boots when you stretch your legs out. You watch as he closes his eye, peace sweeping across his face as he rests his head against the back of the log, tilting his nose up towards the sun. The way the sunlight dapples through the leaves paints him in spotty colors, but it doesn’t diminish his beauty at all. You find yourself entranced with the way the shadows dance across his face, and you don’t know how long you stare at him before he cracks his eye back open.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You try to play it off.

“You’re just looking at me.” He says.

“You’re sitting directly in front of me.” You deflect.

“Yeah, but you’re always looking at me.” He closes his eye again, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

You scoff, and try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. Caught. “Am not.”

“Are too.” He shoots back.

“Maybe I just zone out a lot.” You try.

He actually laughs at that, and opens his eye again, sitting up from his lazy sprawl. “C’mon.” He says. “It’s just us. You can admit you think I’m cute. Promise I won’t tell anybody.”

You close your eyes, tipping your head back against the log you’re resting against so that he can’t see your face. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life - you thought you were being discreet. But maybe he’s more observant than you gave him credit for; after all, it didn’t even take him more than the distance between your back porch and the wall for him to figure out you were following him.

“Was I really that obvious?” You ask, still refusing to look at him.

“I mean, kind of. You just stare at me, like, all the time.” You can hear him grinning. “At first I thought it was just the eye, but you look at my hands a lot too, so…”

It’s humiliating, how easily he figured you out. And you can hear him smiling, it’s in the tone of his voice. At least he’s not outright laughing at you - you think you’d actually die on the spot if he did.

“I should go home.” You say, picking your head back up off the log to stand up. “Sorry for following you-”

“No, what?” Carl stands up with you. “I’m not mad or anything, it’s just-”

“Funny?” You fill in the blank for him, pinning him with a look. He just blinks at you, obviously taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting you to notice how amused he is with this. You sigh, and grab your bag from where you set it next to you. “Figures. You are such a dick, Carl Grimes.”

You turn away from him, starting back towards the wall. Hurried footsteps tell you he’s following you, but you don’t turn around, not until he grabs you by the wrist and makes you.

You meet his icy blue gaze. “What now?”

“It’s not funny.” He says, brows furrowed. “I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s cute. I like that you have a crush on me, ‘cause I like you, too.”

You just look at him for a minute, trying to determine if he’s being honest or not. “If you’re just saying that to, I don’t know, get me to say something embarrassing and make fun of me, I swear to God-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because he rolls his eye, and then presses his lips to yours, insistent. It takes you a second to realize what he’s doing, but when it clicks, you melt into it, kissing him back with the same intensity. When he pulls back, you can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“I mean it. I like you.” He says. “Wouldn’t have shown you my secret spot otherwise.”

You can’t stop yourself from grinning. “I guess I believe you now.” You joke. “But if I say I don’t will you kiss me again?”

“You can just ask.” He says, leaning in to connect your lips again.

It’s better, now that you know it’s coming - less sloppy. You take the opportunity to wind your arms around his shoulders, playing with the silky tresses of his hair. You’re the one to break it this time, pulling back to rest your forehead against his, looking deep into his pretty blue eye.

“Sorry for calling you a dick.” You say. “And thinking you were laughing at me.”

“S’okay.” He says. “Do you, maybe, wanna come back to the spot with me? Hang out?”

“Yeah.” You say, grinning. “Sounds great.”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd #the walking dead

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

Text

Three Men and a Baby

While you're out of town, Jack, Urban and Clay take care of a sick Brooklyn

Warnings: mentions of sick child, some angst

Requested by the wonderful 🫀anon!

"Alright, Brookie, let's try this." He glanced at the label, your handwriting scrawled across the top of the plastic container.

"Asparagus and Pear", he read aloud, scrunching his face in disgust.

"That sounds nasty", he whispered, his aversion to vegetables carrying him into adulthood. Brooklyn looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open to receive a bite.

She immediately spit it out as soon as the taste hit her tongue, flailing her arms and legs. He tried to give her another bite but she turned her head away, letting out a whine.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad." Hoping it would convince her to eat, he took a big bite, resisting the urge to hurl immediately. "Oh my god, that's disgusting", he mumbled, spitting it out in a napkin. Brooklyn clapped her hands in glee at her dad's reaction.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, your number and a picture of the three of you from Christmas flashed on the screen.

"Hey, baby", Jack held the phone between his ear and shoulder, wiping Brooklyn's mouth with her bib. "How's everything going?"

"It's going", you admitted, hoping your light tone was convincing.

You had driven a few hours out of town to visit your parents for a couple of days, to help them move out of your childhood home. As much as you hated to leave Jack and Brooklyn behind, your parents were too old to take care of the moving responsibility themselves and they refused Jack's offer to pay for movers.

"My offer still stands, I have no problem with us paying for movers, babe." You sighed, sitting down on the porch swing in front of the house, just out of your parent’s ear shot.

"Yeah, I brought it up to my parents this morning, and my dad was seriously offended. Said he doesn't take handouts from his son." Jack chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. He watched Brooklyn as she smeared some banana on her face.

"Son, wow. What an improvement from "that boy"."

"Yeah, he's finally coming around to you after us being together for eight years." You laughed, swinging your feet. "How's everything going? Is Brooklyn eating and sleeping?"

You knew you sounded worried, and while you completely trusted Jack to watch his own child, you just have an overprotective nature.

"Baby, she's fine. We're eating lunch right now, and then later on Clay and Urban are coming over to watch the game. She's got three people who love her to hand out with, and she's loving every second of it."

This time, Jack hoped he sounded convincing. He was a nervous wreck, triple checking everything to make sure she couldn't choke or fall or hurt herself. He didn't realize how much this was a two person job until he was forced to take care of her on his own.

"I know, I know. You're such a great father to her. I'll have to find a way to show my appreciation", your last words were suggestive; you were sure Jack was blushing on the other side of the phone.

"Are you sure you can't come back home tonight?" Jack was mostly joking, but also a tiny bit serious. You giggled, sucking your teeth at him.

"I promise the wait will be worth it, Mr. Harlow." Jack cleared his throat, his neck breaking out in hives. "Can't wait."

"Well give her all the hugs and kisses for me and I'll be back tomorrow morning. Tell Urban and Clay I said hi."

Jack hung up the phone just as Urban walked through the front door, Clay following behind him. Urban placed the bags of food and drinks he had brought over, on the kitchen counter.

"Chickadee!" Urban called out when he laid eyes on Brooklyn, completely ignoring his best friend who had extended his hand out for a greeting. Brooklyn squealed at glee at the sight of her two favorite people.

"Where's my girl?" Clay pushed past Jack, picking up Brooklyn from her high chair. He placed kisses all over her face, making her giggle.

"Wow, good to know who y'alls favorite is." Jack pretended to be offended as he unpacked the bags. "Its not like I'm your brother", he pointed to Clay, "or have been your best friend for over two decades", Urban shrugged as he sat down at the table.

"Don't listen to him, B, he's just salty you're way cuter than he is." Clay stuck his tongue out at Jack, Brooklyn mimicking him, sticking out her little tongue as well.

Jack rolled his eyes, taking Brooklyn from his brother. "I just need to put her down for a nap and then we can watch the game." He stopped in his tracks when he saw Urban scraping the bottom of Brooklyn's baby food container.

"Did you just eat that whole thing, Urb?" Jack gagged as Urban just shrugged. "Its asparagus and pears, man."

"What's not to like? Asparagus, good. Pears, good. And pureed food is just so much easier to eat. Why don't adults eat food this way?"

****

Jack checked the baby monitor every couple minutes, nervously making sure Brooklyn was sleeping soundly. The game was going sideways; Louisville's Basketball team was down 24 points to Kentucky in the fourth quarter.

"C'mon, pass the fuckin' ball!" Clay yelled at the TV, jumping to his feet as Louisville turned over the ball. "Dammit!"

"Clay! Please!". Jack shook the baby monitor in the air, willing his brother to quiet down.

"Oh, sorry." He slumped back down on the couch.

Jack held his breath, hoping Brooklyn wouldn't wake up. He sighed when he heard her start to wail, her cry traveling all the way from upstairs.

He jogged up the stairs, Brooklyn's cry growing louder as he approached her nursery.

"It's okay, baby girl. Shhhh." Her face was flush, her teeth chattering in between cries as he picked her up. Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying to soothe her, and immediately noticed that she was running hot.

Thinking she might have a fever, he wanted to make sure to check her body temperature. "Alright, alright, let's see." He bounced her on his hip while he searched the drawer of her changing table, trying to locate the thermometer. She continued to cry, her breaths becoming shallow.

Three beeps a few seconds later revealed that she had a fever of 104 degrees, and Jack was immediately worried.

His first instinct was to call you, but he didn't want you to worry when there was no way you could come home immediately. This was something he could take care of, and save you any anxiety.

"Is she awake? I want to play with this ball I bought her." Clay walked into the room, tossing a soft basketball between his hands, stopping in his tracks when he saw how upset his niece was. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. She's got a fever." Clay could see that Jack was scared, his face had gone white, and he looked physically ill.

"Okay, what do we need to do? Should we call mom?" Clay took Brooklyn from Jack, patting her back to try to soothe her to no avail.

"Yeah, let's do that." Jack was frantic, his hands shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He paced the room as the phone rang, eventually sending him to voicemail. "Fuck." Jack was in pure panic, his heart beating out of his chest. He had no idea how to help his baby girl, and he felt weak and useless.

Clay's heart dropped at the sight of his brother. "Hey, Jack. It's gonna be okay. Brooklyn's gonna be okay." Jack nodded, not sure if he completely believed him.

****

Jack tried everything to calm Brooklyn down over the next few hours. She wasn't taking any food or fluids, and she was inconsolable.

Every time Jack would put her down in her crib she would cry, and picking her up only worked for a few minutes before she was red in the face again. He never got a hold of his parents, so Urban had been calling around to every parent he knew for the past few hours to try to get some answers. It was after midnight when he finally reached his someone.

"Alright, so my dad said we need to get her fever down as fast as we can. The internet said maybe a bath or taking her in the shower. I told Clay to start a bath for her." Urban looked up from his phone to Jack who was sitting in the rocking chair, holding Brooklyn. "He also said some fever medication should help."

She had finally stopped crying due to pure exhaustion, because her little lungs were having trouble filling with air and a hard cough was starting to develop. Jack was grateful she was falling asleep while he rocked her.

"How is she doing?" Urban asked in a whisper, bending down in front of Jack, gently stroking Brooklyn's cheek. She stirred in her sleep, scrunching her face.

"She's still burning up, and she's starting to cough." The words caught in Jack's throat, his eyes starting to water.

"I've got the bath ready." Clay called from the bathroom. The room was steamy as Jack entered, the smell of eucalyptus hitting his nose.

"I don't know if I did it right, but I checked the temperature like you showed me." Jack dipped his hand in the water, confirming it was a good temperature.

"Thank you, man, I really appreciate it."

"Of course. We'll be right outside if you need anything." Clay and Urban left the room, closing the door behind him. Jack got Brooklyn undressed, wrapping her in a towel so she was covered. As soon as her feet hit the water, she was screaming her head off, as if the water was burning her skin.

"It's okay, baby. You're okay." He tried washing her off, but she wouldn't stop moving around, tears streaming down her face. "Please, baby, please calm down." Jack knew it was crazy to beg to a four month old baby, but he was desperate. Clay peaked his head in, the sound of his niece crying was breaking his heart.

"Everything okay?" Jack shook his head, wiping his brow. He tried to hide his tears from Clay, his fear and frustrations overwhelming him. "Urban, get in here. I've got an idea."

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray."

Clay started singing Brooklyn's favorite song, Urban joining in when he realized what Clay was doing. Even though neither guy could hold a tune, it was working, Brooklyn was starting to calm down, listening intently to her uncles, her cries turning into gentle sniffles.

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Jack kept her in the bath until he could feel her skin start to cool. He changed her into some cool, loose pajamas, and gave her a syringe of fever medication. After a couple of minutes she was finally sleeping, her lashes fluttering as Jack laid her in her crib.

He softly closed the door behind him, meeting Urban and Clay in the hallway, the baby monitor in hand.

"I don't know how to thank you guys for helping me." He ran his fingers through his hair, his hand resting on the back of his neck. "I've never been so scared in my life."

"That's what uncles are for", Urban clapped a hand on Jack's back. "That, and eating their niece's delicious pureed foods. You wouldn't happen to have any more, would you?"

Jack chuckled for the first time all night. "Let me make y'all some actual food."

****

Jack's eyes shot open, the sunlight streaming through the window blinding him. He lifted his head, chuckling at the sight of Clay asleep on the couch next to him, Urban in the fetal position on the floor. He searched for his phone, patting the cushion around him until he felt the rectangle under a pillow.

"Shit!" It was already 9:30. You were going to be home any minute and the house was a mess. "Clay, Urban, get up." Jack kicked Urban in the side, making him groaning out in pain. "What is your problem?", he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Y/N is going to be home any minute, and it looks like a fuckin' bomb went off in here. Get up and help me clean up." Jack walked into the kitchen, his breath hitching when he saw you standing by the formula maker, Brooklyn in your arms.

"Babe, when did you get here?" Jack walked around the kitchen, giving you a quick kiss. "How was your trip back?"

"The drive was good. I didn't run into any traffic." You placed Brooklyn in her high chair, leaning against the island. Jack sat down at the dining room table, resting his head in his hand as he played with Brooklyn's curls. "That's good. We missed you."

"Yeah, I missed you, too. How did everything go here?" Jack swallowed, avoiding eye contact with you. "Ok. It was pretty boring. We just fell asleep watching the game last night."

Clay walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms, an imprint of the remote on the side of his face. "Hey sis. How are my favorite in-laws?" Clay pressed a kiss onto your forehead, draping his arm over your shoulder.

"They're good. They said to say hi." Clay hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on atop yours.

Desperate to get out of the room before you started asking any questions, Jack stood, placing Brooklyn on his hip.

"We've gotta get ready to meet my mom for breakfast. She hasn't seen Brooklyn in a few days." He walked out of the kitchen, thinking he was in the clear.

"Oh Jack", you called after him, stopping him in his tracks. "You're mom called and said she needed to reschedule breakfast because she had a work commitment."

Jack closed his eyes. "Ok, sounds good”, he called back. He took a step before you spoke again.

"She also said she got your messages last night and she asked if Brooklyn was feeling any better." Urban caught the tail end of your sentence as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes growing wide.

"I’ve gotta go." Urban gave Brooklyn a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing out of the door, his shoes in his hand.

Clay started inching toward the foyer. "I've gotta go, too. I-I need to not be here."

You closed your eyes as you heard the front door slam shut.

"Babe, listen-", Jack stopped when you held up your hand.

"What was your plan? Just never tell me that Brooklyn was running a 104 degree fever? That it would just be okay that you kept that from me?" You were steaming, your stomach in knots at the thought that you weren't here to take care of your child.

"No, I did not want to keep anything from you, but I also didn't want you to worry while you were away." He clasped his hands in prayer, covering his lips. He didn't dare take a step towards you, feeling the anger radiating off of you.

"I can't believe you Jack! What if something happened? What if she needed to go to the hospital, or even the emergency room? Did you even think about how serious this was?"

Jack scoffed. "Of course, I thought about all of that! I was terrified, but I was here taking care of her, never letting her out of my sight. What, do you think I can't take care of my daughter without you looking over my shoulder?"

His words hung in the air, and you realized taking your frustrations out on Jack wasn't helping anything. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a deep breath.

"No, Jack, that's not what I'm saying at all." You pinched the bridge of your nose, a tension headache stuck at the base of your neck. "I just wish you would have told me. I just hate that I wasn't here. I didn't want to go away in the first place, and knowing that Brooklyn was sick, I feel terrible for leaving you alone."

Jack wrapped you up in a hug, his arms around your shoulders as you leaned your forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry. I never should have kept anything from you. I was so scared, baby, I didn't know what to do."

You looked up at him, cupping his face in your hands. "But you did do it baby, look at her. She's happy and healthy, all because of you." You both looked over at Brooklyn who was happily playing with a teething toy.

"You're never allowed to leave ever again. Anywhere you go, we go." Jack chuckled, giving you a gentle kiss. "God, this place is a mess."

"I'm sure you're exhausted, go take a nap, and I'll feed Brooklyn her breakfast. The house can’t wait." Jack yawned as he walked to the staircase.

"Jack?" His heart stopped again, his mind racing, trying to think if he had forgotten something else?"

"Yes, baby?" He returned to the kitchen again.

"What happened to all of Brooklyn's baby food I made before I left?" You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, pulling out empty containers from the fridge.

"Oh, I don't know, baby. Unrelated, but Urban asked if you could make a little bit extra of the asparagus and pear puree, and put it aside for him next time he's here. Again, completely unrelated to what you asked about." Jack gave you a small smile, Brooklyn letting out a giggle when he winked at her.

Tag-List:

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#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic

189 notes · View notes

its-the-pilot · 7 months

Text

Save Me From Myself | One-Shot

I hope you like this! I've got a few of these rolling around in my head, so let me know if you want to see them!

Summary: Bradley is struggling after the death of his mother, and you help him back to solid ground. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of teen drug/alcohol use

Length: 2.5k words

Pairing: teen!Bradley Bradshaw x teen!Female Reader

| Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

Message or comment to join the taglist!

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Save Me From Myself

The porch swing moved gently as you sat on it with your feet tucked under you, the history book off to the side open to the assignment you were working on. Your earbuds were tucked into your ears, playing music from your discman as you enjoyed the last throes of summer. It was your favorite time of year, still warm enough to wear shorts and tank tops during the day, with the crisp fall air sweeping in at night off the ocean.

Setting the pen and notebook down on your lap, you reached for the glass of iced tea on the table beside you and took a long sip, looking out at the sky as the sun started to set. You swept your hair off the back of your neck and put it into a messy bun, giving you some relief from the late summer humidity and you set back to finishing your assignment when you heard the sound of raised voices coming from inside your house over your music.

You took one of your earbuds out in order to hear what was going on just as the louder of the two voices came closer to the front door. “You’re not my fucking dad, so just let me live my life!”

“I never said I was your dad, but I am your guardian until you turn 18, and this is my house, so you will follow my rules.” As the words left his mouth, you sighed, understanding that while your uncle was trying to lower the temperature of the situation, it was only going to upset him further.

“Fuck you, Commander.”

The words came out as a growl, and before you heard any response from your uncle, your best friend of nearly ten years burst through the front door, practically jumping off the porch on the way to his father’s old Ford Bronco that was parked in the driveway.

Throwing your notebook and headphones down, you grabbed your flip flops and caught up to him just as he ripped the door to the truck open. “Bradley, wait,” you said, resting a gentle hand on his forearm before he could climb in. You glanced back at the door to your house to see your uncle standing just inside the screen door still dressed in his khaki uniform, having just gotten home from work. He looked between the two of you briefly before turning away and moving deeper into the house, hoping you would have better luck at calming him down. “What happened?”

His chest was heaving and he ran his right hand through his wavy hair as he shook his head. “Maverick’s an asshole,” he muttered, gently shaking your hand off his arm.

“He’s just worried about you. He promised your mom he’d keep you safe, you know that,” you tried, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your cutoff shorts. You knew what he had been up to, hanging out with the wrong crowd all summer, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t worried about him too.

“It’s not his job,” Bradley sighed, turning away from you and sliding into the driver’s seat of his truck before starting it up, the engine roaring to life. “I can’t be here right now. If you want to come with me you can, but I’m leaving.”

Looking back to the house again with a sigh, you nodded and moved around to the passenger side of the truck, sliding into the front seat beside him. You wanted to talk more, but he was still radiating anger and you knew that driving would calm him some. The conversation could wait until you got to your destination, unless he wanted to talk before then.

Bradley Bradshaw had been your best friend since you moved to Virginia Beach to live with your uncle, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, when you were eight years old. Your parents, his brother and sister-in-law, had died in a car accident and wanted him to take custody of you in their will. Maverick was very close with Bradley’s mother, Carole, ever since his father, Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, had died in a training exercise when Bradley was only two.

He helped raise the boy in his friend’s absence as much as he was able, given the frequent deployments and special detachments he was sent on. It was even more challenging once you came to live with him a few years later, but fortunately Carole stepped up and you routinely stayed with her and Bradley when Maverick was away, even going so far as having your own room at their house.

You dropped your flip flops to the floorboard of the truck and pulled your legs up to sit cross legged on the passenger seat, glancing over to Bradley on occasion as he drove further away from the house. Things had been tense since Carole died in March and Bradley had been slowly spiraling further and further out of control, unable to deal with the loss. Your uncle had tried getting him into counseling after he came to live with you, but he refused to go, choosing instead to start drinking and smoking pot. He had even quit playing baseball, something he had done for as long as you had known him. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, losing his dad so young and now losing his mom too. In some twisted way it made you feel fortunate that you lost both your parents at once.

His hand was resting on the shifter, and when you noticed that his grip on it had loosened, a sad smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You didn’t like seeing him upset, and lately it seemed he was looking to self-destruct, pushing everything and everyone he loved away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice much calmer than it had been at the house as he looked over at you, bringing the truck to a stop in a parking lot beside his favorite beach.

You shook your head and looked up into his hazel eyes. “Just worrying about you.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved the car door open with a grunt, climbing out of the cab and heading toward the beach. You got out and followed him, the long strides that matched his 6’1” frame forcing you to jog to catch up. When he finally spoke, you could hear the frustration in his voice returning despite his attempts to hide it. “You don’t have to worry about me. No one does. I’m fine. I just want to get on with my life.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to burn it to the ground.” The statement made him stop and turn to face you. His large hand ran through his hair as he sighed, opening his mouth to speak when you stopped him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t. You quit baseball, you don’t come to school half the time, you’re drinking, smoking… what are you doing, B?”

You challenged him, and it was his favorite thing about you. He was silent for a long moment, the two of you staring each other down, before he finally sighed and sat down on the sand, looking out at the ocean as the sun began to set. “I don’t know,” he said, resting his forearms on his knees. “I want to get out of here, away from VA Beach.”

“Then why don’t you just do it right? You’re at the top of your class, and right now you’re throwing it all away. Graduate, enjoy your senior year.” You sat beside him on the sand, leaning over to bump his shoulder with your own as your voice softened. “That’s what your mom wanted, for you to have a normal life. That’s all Uncle Pete wants too.”

You could tell by the wry chuckle he gave that he didn’t believe you, or your read on your uncle. “Maverick doesn’t give a shit about me,” he said, his deep voice quiet against the sound of the waves on the beach.

“That’s not true, Bradley,” you scolded, shifting to your knees and facing him, forcing eye contact by taking his hands in yours. “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t say anything to you at all. He’d let you destroy yourself.”

He locked eyes with you, silently challenging your statement before finally releasing a sigh, shaking his head as he looked away. You reclaimed your position beside him and you both stared at the ocean in silence for a long time, until the last remnants of the day’s light dipped below the horizon. You shivered as the wind picked up, your bare arms and legs reminding you that you didn’t bring a sweater.

Bradley didn’t hesitate in taking his hoodie off and pulling it over your head before standing and dusting the sand from his jeans. He offered a hand to help you up and when you stood he couldn’t help but chuckle at how big the sweatshirt was on you. “Been a while since we’ve worn the same size I guess,” he teased, watching you push the sleeves up to expose your hands as you rolled your eyes, though there was a smile on your lips. “Wanna walk down the pier?”

“What time is it?” you asked, watching as he checked his wrist where he wore his dad’s old watch.

“Just after 7,” he replied, his biceps flexing as he stretched out after sitting for so long. He was a sight to behold, even wearing something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt.

A Varsity baseball player since his Freshman year, he had always been in good shape, and it was hard to not appreciate it. Even though he hadn’t played since last season he was still well toned, most of the time he was forced to be at home was spent in their garage working out. Girls were constantly all over him, and while he appreciated the attention he had been in a relationship up until his mom passed, when his change in behavior led to a breakup.

“Sure, we can walk down the pier,” you smiled up at him, unable to ignore the warmth that ran through you when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you toward it.

He smelled like sandalwood and salt water, a scent that was familiar and made you feel safe. The two of you had practically been raised as siblings, and until recently you had never considered anything more than a friendship with Bradley. Puberty had changed that, at least for you, but his girlfriend and the chance that it could ruin your friendship forever had prevented you from making a move.

Even now, you didn’t say anything, knowing that there was a delicate balance within him. You didn’t want to push him over the ledge he was teetering on, but to pull him back onto solid ground if he would let you.

It was a relaxed walk down the beach, and by the time you reached the pier, there were only a few people left watching the ocean under the dim lights. You were both quiet as you made your way to the end of the pier, tucked into Bradley’s side by his arm that was still wrapped around your shoulder.

The sea breeze tousled your hair as you leaned against the pier’s railing, gazing out at the dark expanse that was the Atlantic Ocean. The sound of waves crashing against the pilings filled the silence between you as you stood shoulder to shoulder, each of you trying to find the right words.

Your name passed his lips first, and as he spoke his eyes remained on the ocean in front of you. “You’ve always been there for me, Dimples, even when I don’t deserve it, like these past few months. I’m sorry I haven’t told you how much I appreciate that.”

A smile formed at his words and you rested your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to say it, Brad. We’re family, remember? That’s what family does.”

He remained still for a moment before shifting to face you slowly, giving you time to lift your head. Hazel eyes caught yours in a soft gaze before dropping to your lips briefly. He had been attracted to you for a couple of years, but thought you were off limits due to Maverick, who kept you both on a tight leash. But you understood he was still dealing with the losses of his best friend and his brother, all while trying to raise their children into functioning adults.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the water, not me,” you teased, feeling self conscious as his eyes roamed over you.

Bradley smiled, his large hand reaching for yours and lacing your fingers together. “You’re better to look at.”

You bit your lip and looked away, feeling the heat in your cheeks rising. Before you could say anything else, his fingers tipped your chin up and his lips were against yours in a tender kiss. His confident demeanor made an appearance when he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss continued, soft and slow.

When you finally parted, you couldn’t help but search his eyes, looking for any sign of regret. Instead he shook his head, seemingly reading your mind as he stroked your cheek with the hand that wasn’t resting on the small of your back. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. You’re a good kisser.”

“It was my first time,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed. As the bookworm to Bradley's social butterfly, you were content to stay home, reading or watching a movie, rather than going out. As a result, you had never been on a date, let alone kissed someone.

“Then you’re a natural.” He leaned in and kissed you again, briefly. “Is this something you want?”

Your heart raced as you met Bradley's eyes, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Yes," you whispered, your voice filled with uncertainty and longing. "I want this, Brad, if you do."

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with happiness. "Of course I do, Dimples. We only have this moment once. The present moment.”

“The present moment,” you repeated, chuckling when he hummed in affirmation. “So what do you suggest we do to harness this present moment?”

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you again in response to your question, resting his forehead against yours. “I know Mav might give us shit, but I want to make this work."

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart full with emotion. "We'll figure it out together."

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #Youtube

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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darlingsfandom · 7 months

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Being in a age gap relationship with Jim (delinquent season) and he is a perv & a little bit pathetic

We LOVE pathetic men around here 🥺💕

It was wrong! Very wrong. Jim was married, not happily but still married. He shouldn't be thinking about you. You're his neighbor. You've barely said two words to him since you've moved in next door. He often finds himself thinking about the day you moved in eight months ago. You were watching as some movers brought in the heavier stuff , sitting all pretty like on the porch swing with your legs crossed. Did Jim go say hi? No. He stood watching from his kitchen window. It wasn't until the next day when you were checking the mail that Jim came to meet you. He found out your name, where your from, that he's literally double your age and that you have a cat named Dumpling. And for eight long months Jim watched your every move.

Now here you are standing in front of him and his wife talking about how you've adjusted to the town while having a nice spaghetti dinner. Jim shouldn't be paying that much attention on how you slurp a noodle.

"So... any men around catch your eye yet!?" His wife let out a little laugh and so did you.

"Uh not really... just still focusing on myself you know? Don't want to rush anything." You we're lying through your teeth. Truth is you did have on eye on someone... Jim! Yeah we double your age and married but you knew Jim wanted you.

"You're right! It's good to focus on yourself and know what you like." His wife gave you a smile before sipping her wine. "If you'll excuse me... ladies room." She left , leaving the two of you alone. You sat there with a smirk on your face as you watched Jim stir in his seat. Your foot trailed up his inner thigh and press gently in his crotch. You licked your lips at him before getting up out of your seat , walking up to him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

"It's been a week Jim." You pouted at him.

"I know sweetheart, but she's going out of town tomorrow." He touched your cheek gently.

"Then listen carefully.... as soon as she's gone, you're coming over and fucking me or I swear, I'll give you blue balls from hell! Got it?" You cupped his face and smirked before quickly returning to your seat.

A few seconds later his wife returned with a smile that was faked. "How did you enjoy dinner?" She asked politely as you placed a paper towel on your plate.

"It was delicious . Jim's a lucky man." You smiled and gave her a wink as she blushed. Both of you helped clean up after dinner as Jim excused himself to the bathroom. You noticed the hard on straining against his pants as he ran in there.

"Probably all the wine." His wife laughed as you handed her the rest of the dishes. You helped wipe up the table as she washed the dishes and loaded the washer. Just as you went to talk her phone rang and she quickly asked you to tell Jim she had an urgent call. You made your way into the bathroom because Jim being Jim and rushing in there didn't lock it.

"JESUS CHRIST!" He jumped as he heard you enter the bathroom. "My wife is home and you know we can't ..."

"Shut up! She had an urgent phone call apparently and you're in here fucking your fist thinking of me." You we're fed up with the situation. You didn't being a secret but maybe you were fed up because usually you two could sneak in a quickie during the week but it's been a week and the most you've gotten is seeing Jim jerk off through the window.

"Then fuck... finish me off please!" He gave you a pout and how could you stay mad? You walked up behind him , laid your chin on his shoulder and jerked him off fast. It felt good to hold his fat cock again but it wasn't enough. You watched as his face twisted in pleasure as a silent orgasm hit him and his cum shot into the toilet.

"That's a shame, should've been shot up into me!" You kissed his shoulder before letting go of his cock and walked out of the bathroom with a sour look on your face. Jim followed shortly behind. He was wrapped around your finger and in too deep with how much he needed you.

#cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #Cillian Murphy as Jim #emsblurbs

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whositmcwhatsit · 4 days

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Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 13: Promises and Jealousies

AN: I can't stay away from my original baby. Please enjoy a fluffy, smutty, angsty.... thing from me with all my usual ingredients: temper tantrums, allusions to drugs, both baby and 70s Elvis, Elvis smirking, Elvis... elvising.

You might want a refresh, but it's not really necessary Chapter 12

Thanks for @thatbanditqueen for providing vital feedback as always.

Early 1956

Chancy held her breath as she pulled the car up alongside the Cadillac Fleetwood parked on the gravel driveway. She had only been driving a few weeks and her parking was still a work in progress. Navigating near Elvis’ pride and joy just added to the pressure.

“Oh my goodness, we made it!” Alicia gasped, opening the rear door and staggering out dramatically.

“I wish you’d stop doing that every time we go anywhere!” Chancy snapped, leaning out of the car to change her shoes.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all thinking that you’re a brat!”

“Chancy!” Grandma reproached softly over the top of the car, both her tone and her face suggesting she was disappointed rather than angry, which was always worse.

“Sorry, Grandma.”

Alicia skipped across the yard, swinging her arms in that loose-limbed unself-conscious way of a child and Chancy envied her a little. She couldn’t remember ever being that unconcerned and content herself, but then again, she and her sister had had very different lives though they came from the same family.

Chancy walked with studied casualness alongside Grandma to make sure that she didn’t slip on the wet grass or leaves, trying not to let her know that was what she was doing.

By the time they had reached the steps up to the porch, the front door was open and Mrs Presley was standing silhouetted in the light with a big warm smile on her face. She commented on how tall Alicia had grown, which was the perfect thing to say since Alicia was the shortest in her class and conscious of it. Over the top of Alicia’s head she gave Chancy a knowing smile and ushered them in.

In the living room, Mr Presley was dissecting the newspaper on his lap and gave them a brusque nod as they all piled in, shedding their coats.

“Make yourselves comfortable. Chancy, come help me fetch the drinks?”

Chancy smiled and shot up from the sofa, following Mrs Presley into the kitchen.

“Where’s Elvis?”

“Oh, he only woke up not ten minutes ago. You know, I don’t think that boy rests at all when he’s away from home, and it takes a full day just flat out sleeping to catch up. He needs to start taking better care of himself. Here, why don’t you take this lemonade in to him.”

Chancy glanced into the living room where Grandma was sat in silence waiting for Mrs Presley’s return and the only noise that Mr Presley produced was a rustling of the newspaper. Alicia was on the floor playing with Elvis’ dog, Boy, giggling as he excitedly licked at her face.

Chancy tapped on Elvis’ bedroom door and pushed it open.

“I’m up! I’m up. I’m… almost up,” came a muffled mumble from within the darkened haze of the bedroom.

“You liar!” Chancy said playfully, treading cautiously over carelessly discarded shoes, clothes, cases and instruments.

There was a pause and then Elvis sat up slightly, pulling his blanket to his chest like a maiden protecting his virtue.

“Cha-Cha?!” His voice went high and she couldn’t help giggling, enjoying getting the upper hand and surprising him for once.

“Get a lot of girls coming into your bedroom, do you?” she returned, perching on the side of the bed. His hair was sticking out in all directions and he seemed to think of it just as she was noticing, his hand reaching up to cover/smooth it.

“What are you doing here, what time’s it?” His voice was adorably hoarse and matched his sleep-puffy face and squinting eyes.

“A little after six.”

“At night?!”

Chancy couldn’t help but giggle again at the way his voice cracked and he dropped back onto his pillows in stunned realization that he had slept the whole day away. She slid the glass of lemonade onto his nightstand and watched him grab it and gulp it down thirstily.

After a few seconds, his legs moved around beneath the blankets and he complained, “Ugh, I have got one hell of a crick in my neck.” She shot him a disapproving look at his language, but it got lost in the murky darkness. “Rub my neck for me, baby.” He rolled onto his front and grabbed her hand, pulling it and dropping it on his shoulder like she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking.

Sighing affectionately, Chancy started kneading her thumb into the muscles and tendons that passed down the back of his neck and into his shoulder, trying not to respond to the soft little moans he was making, she knew deliberately, to get her riled up.

“Ain’t no one can do that the way you can,” he murmured, one hand hanging off the bed and gripping her ankle.

Chancy had no doubt that he had discovered this through rigorous testing too. They had broken up just after Christmas and the grapevine had been sure to let her know that Elvis was getting over her with just about every girl that crossed his path, on the road, up in New York when he was performing on TV, even at home in Memphis.

When he showed up at her house after New York, he had claimed that it was all overblown and that every time he had to speak to a girl, the newspapers and magazines turned her into his date, but it wasn’t the papers that had told her friends to tell her that he was ‘plowing through every girl like it was his job.’ His cousin Gene didn’t write for the papers, or much at all as far as Chancy knew.

Ironically, the reason they had broken up was that she had got a Christmas present from a boy in her class; just a little skating figurine that the boy said reminded him of her after they had gone, as a big group from school, roller skating one weekend. When Elvis found out, because Alicia couldn’t keep her big mouth shut, he acted like the ornament was an engagement ring and the big argument had ended with both the figurine and their relationship in pieces.

It had been their longest break-up yet. They had had little tiffs before, usually something to do with him being away so often, it made both of them suspicious and jealous over the other, but nothing quite like the one at Christmas. It had been the first time that Chancy had not been certain that they would get back together. She had suffered through an unprecedented month of not seeing him, in person at least, since he was just about everywhere she looked on television, magazines, newspapers and almost constantly being played on the radio.

Then, the night he got back into town, he was at her door as if nothing had ever happened, telling her all about New York and what it was like recording for a big record label like RCA Victor and how he had hardly had any sleep and the food hadn’t tasted right. She had been so glad to see him, so relieved, that she had risked Grandma’s wrath by climbing onto the back of his motorcycle and letting him take her for a ride all the way down to Riverside.

Without warning, Elvis flipped over onto his back, his neck apparently miraculously healed, and tried to yank her down by pulling hard on her arms.

“Ow!” she cried, fruitlessly fighting his grip, “too rough! Elvis, stop it!” He abruptly let her go and pulled himself up in a seated position, his pouty, sheepish face clear in the half-light.

With a mournful sigh, he let his head drop forward against her upper arm and she shivered, smiling, as she felt the little kisses he was pushing against her bicep.

“Sorry,” he murmured in a baby voice, “Just missed my widdle baby so much.”

Before too long, the kisses had moved upwards, over her shoulder and to her neck as his warm hands drew her forward, pulling her down incrementally with patient but determined slowness.

As was becoming more and more common these days, even with their parents and guardians just outside, Chancy wondered how far she would let this go, if today was the day when she would relent just that slight bit more and they would go all the way. It was the last boundary, the last little piece of herself that she had not given to him, and she was aware that, as the world became more and more enamored with him, threw everything at him, that she would have to keep giving, too, in order to keep hold of him.

It was taken out of her hands when the bedroom door flew open and the overhead light flickered into stark brightness.

“Elvis, your mama says that you need to get your behind out of bed or you’ll be sorry!” Alicia announced. “Say, why are you two sitting in the dark?”

“Anyone else in your family wanting to march into my bedroom tonight?” Elvis commented, dropping back onto the pillows with an air of exasperation. “Grammy ain’t waiting in the hall, is she?”

“No, but she is in the living room, so keep your voice down!” Chancy whispered. “Alicia, get out!”

“Hey!” Elvis grabbed hold of the back of her skirt as she stood to steer her sister out of the room. “Don’t run off!”

“You need to get dressed!”

“I think I need help!” he returned, pouting cutely.

“Okay, I’ll send in Grandma,” she replied, giggling when she was hit on the back by a pillow as she walked out the door.

Not much later, Elvis was sat between Chancy and his mother on the couch, drinking his third glass of lemonade and telling Grandma about life on the road. Chancy had to give him credit, he was note perfect, playing down the mischief that he got up to, and instead talking about the interesting and/or famous people he had met on the Hayride, and the pretty country he had driven through.

“Can’t tell you how glad I am to get home though,” he pronounced, his jiggling left leg nudging into Chancy even as he was patting her and his mother’s knees. “Don’t think I had anything worth eating in nearly two weeks!”

“You know, Chancy’s been so busy these last couple of weeks too. Haven’t hardly seen her!” Grandma said, airily shaking her head. Elvis’ eyes sharpened and he leant forward in his seat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh my yes, one of the families at church, the Barkers, their home burned down just last month and they lost everything, Lord help them. The church have been fundraising to give them a little something, help them get back on their feet. Chancy here helped put on a dance. She organized everything, and in just two weeks too.”

Chancy felt uncomfortable as everyone looked at her with a variety of expressions on their faces. It was sweet of Grandma to give her all the credit, but the truth was that she had just called up all her pals on the usual committees and all the girls pitched in. Margie and Barb were just the tops at talking reluctant, cantankerous adults into submitting to their will with the sheer force of their enthusiasm and, once they managed to get a number of local businesses to sponsor the event in exchange for advertising and the chance to put up sidings, it had all come together.

Chancy had come up with the idea, but after that she preferred to be the cheerleader, the secretary, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be and at the right time, ensuring the budgets were balanced and everyone knew when to show up to decorate the school gym. She could create a color-coded notebook like nobody else.

“I was just saying to Vernon the other day, wasn’t I, Vernon- Vernon! Wasn’t I? I said Chancy hasn’t been coming around here so much these past couple of weeks. I thought you were busy with school, but you were doing all that work, honey, and for that poor family? What a sweet little girl you are!”

Warmth spread through Chancy at Mrs Presley’s pronouncement. She had a way of talking and smiling at you that made you feel like you were being hugged, much like her son, except he wasn’t looking like he wanted to hug her very much right then.

“Wasn’t that clever and sweet of Chancy, Elvis, to do that?” Mrs Presley prompted, after Mr Presley had glanced up and given a vaguely disinterested, lopsided smile and nod.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s real clever and sweet, Mama,” Elvis murmured, not looking at Chancy.

When Chancy volunteered to help Mrs Presley dish up dinner, Elvis followed, leaning the kitchen doorway while he watched them perform what was by now a familiar dance routine.

Chancy could feel him behind her even when he didn’t say anything, could feel the weight of his thoughts and emotions almost as if they began in her. She could even feel him working up to say something, but before he did, Mrs Presley scolded him for hovering and sent him off to the table with a basket of rolls.

“I just can’t stop thinking about that poor family,” she confided to Chancy as she plated up the chicken. “No one was hurt, were they?”

“No, Ma’am, they all got out okay,” Chancy reassured her. “They’re moving into a new apartment at the end of the month, and I heard Mrs Barker telling Grandma that the Lord sure does work in mysterious ways, because they would’ve never been in the position to live in a place so fine before.”

“And that’s down to you,” Mrs Presley said, patting her arm.

“Oh no…” Chancy demurred, feeling awkward but not wanting to lose that look of pride in Mrs Presley’s eyes when she looked at her.

She whirled around to bring the corn to the table and almost smacked into Elvis’ chest. He silently grabbed her arm and drew her into an alcove by the bedroom doors.

“You didn’t say nothing about no dance when I called you,” he whispered fiercely.

“Didn’t I? Maybe you didn’t call when it was happening. It was so last minute.” She saw by the way he ground his back teeth that he got the underlying jab.

“I called plenty enough for you to say something. I-It just gets me to thinking that there’s maybe other things you ain’t telling me.”

Chancy took a surreptitious peek into the kitchen to see that she hadn’t been missed and then pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed him to try and defuse the situation. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t respond either.

“Who took you?”

“Huh?”

“To the dance, who was your date?”

“Nobody, I was helping out.” He shook his head and went to walk away and she grabbed his arm, still trying to balance the dish of corn. “We went as a group, a big group of us.” He let himself be pulled back into the alcove and she shoved the dish onto a side table so she could press up on him.

“Who took you home?”

“Margie and her date. I was a lonesome wallflower the whole night, don’t worry.”

“Baby, you know that ain’t what I want,” he murmured, gripping her waist with his fingers. “I just- I gotta make the most of this while I can. Ain’t no telling how long it’s gonna last, you know that.” He stroked her side with his thumb as he spoke. “Just… be patient, honey, and remember what you promised me.” He was leaning back against the wall, his head slightly tilted back as he looked down at her, all heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. She couldn’t remember anything right then.

“There’s my corn!” Mrs Presley snatched the dish off the table and gave them both a leveling look. “Let’s go sit at the table, huh, and remember why we’re all here?” She cuffed Elvis’ shoulder as he jerked upright and followed Chancy.

Awkward and sheepish, they shuffled into the dining room where everyone else was already seated and looking at them expectantly.

Why they were all here finally came up as they were eating. It felt like most of the evening had been tiptoeing around the shape of it, no one quite willing to touch on it, but leave it to Alicia to bulldoze her way right through it like someone who had never had anything fragile to look after.

“You know, Aunt Rose said that I might be allowed to get a kitten when we go to visit, but only if I take care of it,” she informed the table after getting caught trying to hide food to give to Boy.

“Well, she said ‘might’,” Grandma reminded her quietly, taking a dainty bite of greens.

“Chancy said she wouldn’t go even if she was allowed to get an elephant.”

Chancy winced as she closed her eyes and felt her body heat up several hundred degrees. She just kept chewing the same piece of chicken, feeling as though she would never be able to swallow it down.

“That also remains to be seen,” Grandma commented primly. She had a way of seeming small and delicate and also as rigid and resilient as iron.

“Well, if it helps, Grammy, I promise I wouldn’t let her get an elephant,” Elvis put in, giving her that winsome, impossible not to love boyish look.

“I sure appreciate that, son,” Grandma replied, smiling in spite of herself, “but I’m more concerned with making sure she’s still attending school and giving her attention to her studies.”

“I told you I would,” Chancy said softly. She looked to Mrs Presley since they had talked about this, about how they would handle this so many times.

“Mrs White, you know that schooling is just as important to us. We made sure that Elvis graduated before anything else and we’d do the same with Chancy, I can promise you that. We all know she’s a smart girl.”

Chancy nodded slightly like a director pleased with how the lead had recited the script. She turned back to her grandmother.

“I understand that, Gladys,” Grandma nodded. “And I’ve always appreciated how much you and your family care for Chancy. It’s just that… I promised her mother that I would raise her, that I would take care of both girls the best I could. And leaving her behind, even if it is for a little while, it just doesn’t sit right, not at all.”

Chancy forced the overly chewed chicken down and she could almost feel it drop into her tense stomach. She looked at Elvis and, though he had been following the exchange between the two women closely, it seemed he felt the prod of her gaze as his eyes dropped to her face and his expression softened.

“Grammy, I can promise you that I love Chancy and-and I would never do nothing- anything- to spoil her or ruin all the hard work you’ve done raising her up so well. It’s- It’s because you done such a good job that I love her so much!”

Chancy had been scrutinizing and scoring the exchange like she was a judge, deducting points for the bad grammar, which she knew made Grandma curl up like a snail on salt, and adding points for earnestness. It took a beat for her to actually hear the meaning of the words and she coloured a little, her eyes welling slightly.

“And if I stay here while you’re taking care of Uncle Stan then I can keep going to school every day instead of getting and sending all my assignments in the mail. I’m so close to graduation, after all.”

As soon as she said the words, Chancy wanted to swallow them back up, because that left the door open to Grandma laying down the law about what happened after graduation, when she no longer had the tie of school, when she should have been thinking about her future. Luckily, faced with their three pleading expressions, Grandma wasn’t exactly thinking her clearest.

After dinner, Mrs Presley shooed them out of the house with conspiratorial excitement. Elvis obeyed without hesitation, but Chancy wavered, leading Mrs Presley to give her a firm peck on the cheek and push her off out of the door.

“Go on, babies, let the grown ups talk now!” She spoke with such a sense of control and determination that Chancy’s stomach finally eased a little. Mrs Presley would take care of it, iron out those final little wrinkles that Grandma kept rucking into their plans, and Chancy would be able to stay instead of being dragged off deep into the backwoods of Mississippi with Grandma to help take care of Uncle Stan after his big operation.

They had to bribe Alicia to stay behind, Elvis asking her, all furrowed brow and bottom lip, if she wouldn’t mind taking Boy for a walk and looking after him until they got back. The Presleys outmaneuvered the Crawfords so completely that evening that Chancy should have had more of a sense of foreboding and outrage about it, but it wasn’t until much later that she realized that she had already switched teams, that she had been the first victim.

“You think your mama can do it?” Chancy asked, as Elvis slid his arm along the seat behind her and turned to reverse out of the drive. “Grandma can be real stubborn.”

“I think if anyone can, Mama can,” he nodded, winking at her. “Grammy ain’t coldhearted, she knows how much we love each other.” His breath hitched as he laughed softly. “And how you can’t live without me.”

“If that was true I’d be dead a hundred times over!” she retorted. It took a minute for Elvis to respond, a tiny battle where she watched him decide whether to snap back or let it go. He finally chose the latter and hit her with a peck to the temple.

“Prettiest ghost I ever saw.”

As was happening more and more often, they were not alone for long, and pretty soon they had gathered up some of Elvis’ friends and were cruising the streets, sniping and poking at each other playfully. Red had a girl with him too, so when they stopped for drinks and snacks, Arthur was sent in to fetch them.

“Soooo rich and famous and we’re sitting here getting Krystals,” remarked Red’s date, emerging from beneath him with her lipstick smeared across her cheek in the back seat. “How much money do you even make anyway?”

Even with his face buried in the crook of her neck, Chancy could imagine Elvis’ expression as he tensed against her. He hated bad manners, especially in girls, and while he wanted everyone to know how well he was doing, talking specifics really made him uncomfortable. The girl had already made cracks about the car, wanting to know how much he paid for it, and had also remarked that Elvis was wearing flashier jewelry than his own girlfriend, implying he was cheap.

“Hey, cool it, would ya?” Red muttered, grabbing the girl and pushing her back against the seat so he could mess up her lipstick and clothes some more.

It was too late, that little switch inside Elvis that turned him from the sweet, polite, silly boy to the crazy, reckless, and wild one had already been flicked. Chancy could feel it, her senses keenly attuned, and she was now just waiting to see how it announced itself. He glanced up from nibbling her shoulder and saw Arthur heading towards them with the sack of food.

With what might have outwardly looked like a playful grin, Elvis started the engine and pulled off just as Arthur reached out to grab the door handle. Arthur being Arthur, none the wiser, hurried after them. Elvis made the car squeak to a stop, let Arthur grab the handle and then jerked forward. He did it a couple more times until, finally, breathless, bewildered and slightly annoyed, the boy dropped into the car, still diligently hoisting the sack.

“Gimme that,” Elvis snapped, snatching it out of his hands just as Red and as his date reached for it too.

With his jaw clenched so tightly that you could hear his teeth cracking, Elvis emptied the sack out of his car window, then yanked the car into reverse and shot back, before driving over all the contents, letting his tires spin, and then flying out of the parking lot like a flash.

“Now no sonovabitch is eatin’!” he raged.

Seconds later, he was pulling up alongside the sidewalk, the poor Cadillac bouncing to a premature stop, and Chancy having to throw out her hands to brace herself against the dashboard. Red was already telling his date to get her things together like a man trying to help his wife prepare for an oncoming hurricane. So, when Elvis yelled for either the girl or both of them to ‘get fuck out’, he was ready to bundle her out instantly. Red barely pushed the door shut behind them before Elvis took off again.

Chancy turned her head, watching through the rear window as the girl stumbled over the sidewalk trying to gather her purse and her jacket, looking shell shocked. Chancy caught Arthur’s eye and he gestured in confusion for an explanation, but she shook her head very slightly.

After a tense few minutes, Elvis pulled over near an abandoned lot and jumped out of the car, pacing back and forth, his outstretched fingers clenching and unclenching. Chancy slid out after him and Arthur had the good sense to stay where he was.

“Why’d she have to ruin everything like that?!” he cried, gesturing so wildly that Chancy took a step back just in case. “We were having a good time, weren’t no call for her to start in with her bullshit!” He wrinkled his nose and gave an impression that sounded like a cross between Mickey Mouse and Droopy:

“How much money do you make, Elvis? Why you gotta wear so much jewelry, Elvis? Why you eating burgers, Elvis? Shoulda shoved those burgers right up her-” Chancy finally took the chance and grabbed his arm as he passed her, almost getting yanked along for the ride.

As he turned to storm back the other way, he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and marched her right up against the wall of a darkened store, pressing in tight. She was rubbing his back as he pressed into her front, soothing him like a colicky baby, feeling his tense muscles beginning to unlock. He rested his forehead against her shoulder and she heard him take some deep breaths, trying to calm himself. They were on the home straight now, she just had to keep on rubbing and murmuring, pressing her lips against his fluttering pulse.

He shuffled forward, his hips tilting against her stomach where she could feel that he was riled up all over. His thighs squeezed her leg between them and he finally just slumped, the dark, demonic rage flushed out of him. Now, he scooped her jaw between his hands and was kissing her as if trying to wash out the taste of his temper with the taste of her.

“Baby’s all better now,” she said softly, submitting to the baby talk in a way she only ever did to soothe him after an episode like this. He exhaled into the kiss and nodded, pushing his forehead against hers.

“Sorry,” he murmured in a breath. “He’s sorry.”

“I know.” She felt him gripping her fingers and, when he stepped back, she glimpsed his diamond pinky ring on her finger. Her stomach lurched at the sight of it on her left ring finger, but she knew he hadn’t really been thinking about that. “Honey, you don’t have to-”

“And that’s why I did it.” He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, finding it hard to carry what he had done in the past twenty minutes. It was always the same, after. “C’mon Cha Cha, we gotta go.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, though she already knew.

“Well, we can’t just leave ‘em on the street.”

The switch flipped back, the other Elvis held the door open for Chancy to slide in and then joined her, pulling her hand onto his thigh as he started the car.

“Hey, you doing alright back there, Arturo?” he commented with exaggerated good humor, sounding the all-clear. Arthur nodded and sat up, his face bright again.

“Yeah, sure thing!”

And they were back on the road.

Red was by himself, traipsing along the sidewalk by the time they caught up to him. Elvis leaned on the horn and when Red turned and squinted into the headlights, he didn't look surprised to see who it was.

“There you are, man!” Elvis called out of the window. “Knew I’d find ya, could make out that hair from five miles down the road!”

Back on Getwell, Elvis pulled up next to Grandma’s old Ford and fixed a faraway stare at the house with its glowing windows. Chancy sat beside him, arranging her hands on her lap so that she looked like a genteel Southern lady, mainly to stop herself from stroking the creases that ran from his nose and the corner of his mouth, tickling a smile out of him.

“You know, if your mama hasn’t convinced Grandma, I’m gonna walk all the way back from Mississippi,” she said finally. “When my shoes wear out, I’ll just carry on walking barefoot.”

“You ain’t leaving,” he said in a low voice. In spite of how quietly he had spoken, the ferocity was deafening. He looked down at her hands folded so primly and picked up her left, frowning over it pensively.

“You can have it back, I-” He gave a fierce shake of the head and she stopped.

“What if it was real?” he said, his words flowing slowly like a lazy river. “W-what if we just drove on down there tonight and… I mean, you’re nearly eighteen, ain’t nobody that could stop us!”

“They’d kill us!” Chancy breathed, even as her chest was swelling with excitement. “We’d be married and dead in a day. They would take turns: Grandma, then your mama, your daddy, Grandma Minnie… Uncle Stan when he’s feeling better…”

For a moment, they tilted on a knife point, the desire to do it, to lie about her age and get themselves a marriage license, tie themselves together so that they didn’t have to bend and scrape and beg for anyone’s permission to be together again versus the fear of the no doubt terrible consequences.

Chancy wouldn’t have to worry whether the photos she saw were really fans or the easy girls that threw themselves at Elvis when he was on the road. She could go with him, get away from rules and babysitting and dusty textbooks about dusty subjects.

The fire dampened in Elvis’ eyes before she felt it gutter and extinguish within her. She knew what he was about to say before the words pierced their excited bubble.

“Colonel says that if I get married right now, it’ll be over.” He swallowed, hitting his long thumbs against the top of the steering wheel. “All of this-” He flapped his hand at nothing in particular, but she took it to mean the comfortable one-family house he was renting, the car, the bills paid on time. “All of it, just gone.”

Chancy nodded, feeling her throat tighten and her eyes prickle over losing an idea that hadn’t been hers to begin with, that she had not even considered until he put it out there.

“I’ll wait,” she croaked, clutching her fingers together until they turned white. “You know I’ll wait.” She started to slide the ring from her finger, but he grabbed her hand, his own fingers damp and shaking.

“Whenever you get to worrying or thinking that I don’t love you, Cha Cha, I want you to look at it and remember that you are my perfect little baby, ain’t nobody more perfect for me than you. And one day you’re going to be my wife.” He kissed her hard, like he could will the words into truth with the force of his lips smashing against hers. He sighed and shook his head. “And if Mama hasn’t changed Grammy’s mind, then we’re just gonna forget all of that and find a damn courthouse. Colonel or no Colonel.”

Chancy laughed, unspent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, and felt the weight of the ring as she lifted her hand to wipe them away.

That night, she had to make a thousand promises to her Grandma, promises to go to school daily, even if she was sick, even if she was run over by a bus on the way; promises to be a good girl and not do anything that could sully her reputation or diminish herself in anyone’s eyes; promises to always heed the Presleys just as she did her grandmother; promises to call whenever she could…

“You’re only going for a few weeks!” Chancy said with a laugh. “We’ll all be back home before we know it!” Grandma just looked at her for a long time, her eyes uncharacteristically hazy, until Chancy had to start touching her face and shifting in her seat. She had known what was really happening, even if Chancy had been too young and stupid to see it.

“I promise.”

Mid 1973

The white Stutz shot across the intersection, which was thankfully clear, forcing the cavalcade of cars behind to do the same to keep up. Chancy winced at the distant sounds of horns as someone in the back encountered traffic.

“A microphone, godfuckingdammit? Who steals a motherfucking microphone?!” Elvis seethed, gripping the wheel with white knuckles, glaring out from beneath his wide brimmed hat. “And fucking how’d they do it? Twenty sonsofbitches on payroll and not one of ‘em sees a goddamn thing!”

The silence from Charlie and David in the back seat was a wall built for their own protection, and his, knowing that whatever was said would just make things worse.

“I knew I made a fucking mistake agreeing to record in that shithole. Only reason the place is still standing is ‘cause the rats and the roaches are working together to hold up the damn walls. Fucking broken down, dirty-” He was thumping the hard rim of the steering wheel with his knuckles to emphasise each word.

“Good to stay in Memphis though,” Charlie remarked blithely from the backseat. “Better than hauling our asses out to Nashville.”

It was far too soon, Elvis was not ready for the bright side yet and Charlie was about three drinks too far in to gauge it right.

“Fuck Memphis!” Elvis bellowed. “And fuck recording too! If RCA wanna sue me for breach of contract, they can go right ahead! Ungrateful motherfuckers, how many records have I sold for them over the years?!”

It had been a trying night. Chancy was very quickly discovering that working all day and being with Elvis at night was not a feasible plan. Really it had been sheer wishful thinking from the beginning.

The day before, she had wished so many clients a good evening before eleven thirty in the morning that her assistant Lynette had started to worry she was having a medical episode. And when she yawned one too many times in the studio, Elvis had cut the session short without recording a thing and stormed back home, though not to let her sleep. No, he decided that what she was lacking was excitement, so he, Red, Sonny and Dave had put on a karate demonstration for everyone that featured disarming an assailant using a gun with live ammunition. He noted triumphantly that she didn’t yawn once through that.

And then on to tonight, where he had taken almost three hours to dress, calling up various people to discuss different matters with them in his dressing room like he was an executive taking meetings.

Chancy had waited in the bedroom at first, trying not to doze off in all her finery, but eventually wandered downstairs and visited with Grandma Minnie, who regaled her with all the old stories about Elvis as a sweet, thoughtful little boy as if she had not heard them before. Some of them had changed over the years since Chancy had first heard them, turning almost into parables: ‘Elvis helps the old man across the road’, ‘Elvis gives all his toys to the poor’, ‘Elvis heals the sick by bringing them a glass of water’.

The absurdity, of the stories but never Grandma Minnie’s devotion to her grandson, was even more apparent when Elvis tapped on the door and appeared swathed in a Superfly outfit that made him look like he was taking a break from making a cocaine deal that would get him out of the ghetto and set him up for life in order to record some records.

“Now that is an outfit!” Chancy pronounced, reaching over and rubbing the velvet fedora as Elvis leant down to greet his grandmother. She had to bite down hard to stop herself questioning the fur coat in a Memphis summer, because she knew he would either get upset or go and find a matching cape to let her know what he thought of her advice.

“Well, I figure if I can’t wear it now…”

Chancy nodded and smiled, hoping that the guys at Stax would take the clumsy homage as earnestly as it was intended. She doubted Elvis would notice either way, his voice was soft and slow and his movements slightly out of time or sync; he was using more than the thick fur coat to insulate him from what had increasingly become more of a chore over the years.

“Okay, Dodger, I gotta go to work,” he announced, giving the fragile-looking lady an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on the cheek and rubbing her arms.

As he drew back up, his eyes fell on Chancy and narrowed. She had a moment of dread that he might ask her to go put on the white fur he had bought while they were on tour and quickly decided she would just fake a faint. Drop right there on the carpet.

“What’s wrong with your neck?” he asked sharply, peering down his nose, his eyes looking almost black.

“My neck?” Chancy put her hand to her throat, quickly trying to catch up. Grandma Minnie rolled her eyes indulgently and gave Elvis’ hand on her shoulder a little tap.

“Yeah, c’m’ere a second.” She approached tentatively, knowing it was just as likely that he would pretend to throttle her than fix whatever problem he had spotted. When she felt a cold weight unravel and slide down her chest, she slumped a little with relief before she examined what it was. She lifted the pendant and tried to make sense of the lettering picked out in diamonds. It wasn’t difficult.

“Elvis,” she read slowly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he replied dryly. She fixed him with a look of affectionate irritation.

“Thank you, I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask you to remind me of your name, but it seemed a little awkward after so long.”

He glanced at his grandmother, her presence muting whatever reply he had originally intended.

“You can give it back if you’re gonna-”

“No, no, it’s beautiful, honey, thank you!” She gave him a hasty kiss and made a big show of letting Grandma have a closer look. She pronounced it ‘very fine’ and then made a comment about them being a good looking couple that had them both shuffling their feet and fighting embarrassed smiles like they were in Junior High.

“Yeah, she ain’t bad to look at,” Elvis mumbled, clearing his throat. “C’mon Ugly, we gotta get going.” He snorted as she swatted his back, waving goodbye to Grandma Minnie as she followed him out of the room.

When they got to the studio, the long jamming and joking session started as everyone warmed up. Chancy recognised a few of the session musicians from a previous life, but she was a little distracted by the way that Kathy was giving her furtive looks even as she seemed engrossed in working out her parts with Mary Greene and the Holladay sisters.

When Chancy had got back from work earlier that day, everyone had been down by the pool as Elvis was working on his tan for Las Vegas. Chancy had wandered out there after changing out of her office wear and found Elvis and Kathy on adjacent sun loungers, heads close together as everyone splashed and laughed and joked around them. Apparently they were discussing weighty spiritual matters, but Chancy had the distinct feeling of intruding on something personal, serious. It made her return to the house soon after, ostensibly because she was hot and in need of a refreshing shower, but also to rinse away the bitter feeling in her gut.

Why ask her to come and stay, encourage her to burn herself out working all day and playing all night when he already had someone else much more available and in tune with him right there?! It was just… rude. Yeah, that was it. It was poor manners, that’s all. And greedy.

The faint prickle of offended sensibilities and definitely not jealousy still plagued her as she watched the band and singers preparing for their first take. There was nothing better for making you feel left out and superfluous than being the only non-performer during a performance. Even Hamburger James got to carry a towel.

Too soon, she regretted that reflection as Elvis wandered over to where she was sitting and plopped his hat on her coiffed head, wiping his damp, sweaty hair off his forehead. Great, now she was useful.

A little while later, Elvis was back, still teasing one of the musicians as he swigged water from the bottle and wiped his face with the towel he had taken from James. He dropped his discarded big gold, bejeweled bracelet in her lap before his hand cupped her chin and he deposited a quick kiss on her mouth, then he returned to the microphone.

This happened several more times, until she was laden with a jacket, hat, towel, various pieces of jewelry and was diligently copying out some lyrics from the sheet music. It was only when she approached with her sheet of handwritten lyrics just in time to see Elvis giving Charlie a sharp shake of the head as he proffered him a printed version that she finally realized what was going on.

“Here you go, Boss,” she said, smiling softly. Elvis squinted at the words slightly, before nodding with satisfaction.

“Thank you, baby. Don’t understand why all this poetry keeps slipping outta my mind.” He shook his head. “Next song we’re doing is ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ to a bossa nova beat. Gonna storm the fuckin’ charts with that sumbitch.”

Laughter choked Chancy as she tried to fight it down and when he saw her, eyes watering and face red, and biting hard on her lip, he laughed a little too and some of the sharpness of his frustration was dulled. Audience appreciation always soothed what ailed him.

“We ready?” Felton’s voice buzzed in from the booth.

“Uh, yeah,” said Elvis, waving the sheet that Chancy had passed him. “Forget my damn name half the time, man… Oh no, there it is.” He tapped the pendant on Chancy’s chest, lips twisted into an ironic smirk.

They broke for a coffee break around one am, which Chancy assumed gave some of the musicians the chance to try and sober up a little. She felt a little drunk too trying to walk on the sloping floors.

Marty was explaining, as if they couldn’t tell from the front facade, that it was because the place used to be a movie theater and they had just torn out the seats and moved in the equipment.

“Wish it was still a damn movie theater,” Elvis intoned, returning from posing for photos with the session musicians. He wandered off again to talk to the Stamps and Lamar remarked under his breath:

“He keeps on the way he’s going, in a couple of hours we could tell him he’s at the movies and he’ll believe us.”

Chancy frowned, hating the bite in Lamar’s tone, but also recognising the concern and truth in there too.

Loud laughter rolled in from over by Elvis and the quartet. Towering JD could always be counted on to give Elvis the validating big grin and rumbling laughter he was reaching for, but even he was looking a little bemused.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Chancy murmured under her breath. She felt responsible, though logically she knew it was not her responsibility and certainly not her job to run interference and defend a grown man from himself. Didn’t stop the feeling though.

“Well, you can lead a horse to water…” Lamar remarked with a sigh. “But try it with Elvis Presley and he’s gonna tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It was when everyone reconvened after the break that everyone realized Elvis’ personal mic was missing and suddenly they were pulling towards the gates of Graceland without slowing down.

Luckily, someone had called ahead and the gates were already open, though a couple of the fans had to scurry out of the way as the Stutz bounced slightly against the curve of the slope and raced towards the back of the house.

After they jolted to a stop, Chancy reached down to grab the purse at her feet, but when she sat back up, the driver’s door was open and the seat empty.

“Where’d he go?” she asked Charlie and David in the back, and they gestured towards the house. She trailed after him in the path of devastation, walking through the returning guys, who were standing around, wondering what Elvis had in mind for them next (Please, not another karate demonstration!)

In the kitchen, the staff were hurriedly preparing iced water and discussing whether Elvis needed anything to eat.

Chancy climbed the stairs, almost tripping over the purple velvet hat sitting on a step about halfway up. On the landing was the fur coat, which she snatched up and tucked over her arm.

She idly wondered if he would be naked at the end of this trail and whether she should have let the maid go up first for fun.

“Elvis? Wh-” She tripped over a boot and almost toppled head first through the door into the bedroom. “Dammit!”

Elvis’s explosive laugh was both infuriating and a relief. She glared at him laying on the bed, sadly still wearing most of his clothes, and threw the hat and then the coat at him. She was gearing up to pitch the boot when he hastily rolled away and scrambled down the other side of the bed, leaving a (no doubt loaded) handgun behind on the mattress.

“Cease fire!” he yelled, waving a hand above the mattress.

“No way, this is-” Chancy stopped when the maid brought in Elvis’ water as if it was a perfectly normal situation to walk into. She even paused to ask Chancy if she wanted something to drink and to tell Elvis that Pauline the cook wanted to know whether he wanted something to eat, all while Chancy stood there holding a boot above her head.

After she left, closing the door behind her, Chancy and Elvis looked at one another and started laughing. Hers was more out of relief than anything else. She had been preparing herself during the car journey for a sleepless night of cooing and placating and soothing to the best of her abilities. This abrupt switch was not unprecedented, but the frequency with which he could swing from one extreme to the other had definitely increased lately.

With his hands raised, and a naughty smirk on his lips, he cautiously climbed back on the bed and she gestured wordlessly to the gun.

“I’ll move it if you ditch your weapon,” he countered, twitching an eyebrow, showing that he had definitely learnt his skills of negotiation from the Colonel Parker school of nonsense and befuddlement.

With a pout that telegraphed her misgivings, Chancy dropped the boot and Elvis grabbed the gun and shoved it onto his nightstand like it was a discarded book.

“There we go,” he said in a sing-song voice, reaching out and tugging her closer by the waist. “You know, baby, that I’m a lover not a fighter.” He folded her backwards onto the bed, cradling her as her legs tucked up beneath her.

His kiss was like a warm blanket, easing her tension and warming her from the inside out. Whatever he wanted to invoke in her, he knew exactly what to do to achieve it. Chancy didn’t even know if he understood the amount of power he had and the way that she had fought to make sure no man ever came close to attaining it over her again.

“That’s not what I saw with Red and all those guys last night.. Yesterday?” She ran her palms over his shoulders and down his chest, marveling at the way touching him had almost the same effect on her as kissing him.

“Well, honey, a man’s gotta be both sometimes, you know.” He moved the pendant aside and trailed his fingers across her chest, his nails sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin. “Gotta take care of my baby, keep her safe… and keep her happy.”

“I’m sure you do,” she murmured, gripping a handful of hair at the nape of his neck as he leant down to press his hot, breathy mouth against her tingling skin, but he abruptly pulled short as he registered her words.

“And what in the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Struck slightly dumb by having him pressed against her, Chancy blinked and scrambled to regain control of the strings that controlled her mind and body.

“You make me happy?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, he looked disgusted, his lip curling in disdain.

“Naw, that ain’t what you meant with that sneaky-ass, snide little comment. If you got something you wanna say, just fucking say it. Just say it..” He braced his arm by the side of her head, but didn’t pull away, pressing in on her, forcing her to yield both mentally and physically.

“I didn’t mean anything, Elvis, I’m tired and it came out wrong.” She made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from him.

“I’m tired, I’m tired,” he intoned in his high-pitched impersonation of her. “This ain’t about you being tired, honey. You keep trying to play it off like you’re some kind of modern woman who’s just in it for the kicks, that you don’t care, but I know you. I know you, Cha-Cha, all the way deep down.” He tapped at her breastbone. “You know what’s happening just as much as I do.”

“Oh really, and what is that?” She resisted the urge to reach up and rub the sting on her chest, panting slightly under the weight of him. His stormy expression broke into a slow smile at her defensive tone, her discomfort, her utter confirmation of everything he was saying.

Instead of words alone, which had never been his favorite way to communicate, he let his slow, careful hands give an answer as he reached over and drew the straps of her dress down from her shoulders.

Not even Elvis Presley could make clambering back onto his knees look cool and graceful, but she still let him take her hands and pull her up too so that he could draw down the zipper of her dress with infuriating slowness. She watched him blink, eyelashes fluttering as he focused intensely on getting the silk to slide down into a pool at her bent knees. She hadn’t been wearing a bra and her skin pebbled in the open air, nipples peaking and tingling. She reached up to touch… something, and opted for him, fingers grappling for purchase on the tiny buttons of his shirt, fingertips slipping inside and brushing against coarse hair.

He let her work, his face unreadable as he flicked his tongue against his pillowy lower lip, until finally she reached the bottom of the shirt and she tugged it off over his shoulders, nowhere close to as gently and sensually as he had removed her dress. His cheekbones brimmed as his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“Can I keep my arms, honey, I need ‘em.”

Chancy responded with her mouth, gasping a moan as she pressed her lips into his, slipping and sliding her tongue against his; she was his. Her hands flexed against the warm skin of his chest, tickled by the hair as she followed it down over the soft curve of his stomach to the waistband of his pants tucked underneath.

Just as she managed to unhook them, he surged forward, sucking at her neck, and she half-laughed and half-squawked as she toppled backwards. She reached for him, but he just withdrew with a mischievous smile, grabbing her foot and yanking her leg straight as she tried to shake him off.

“Hey, quit,” he intoned sharply, like she was one of his horses getting restless. His stern look faded as he studied her foot, running his thumb along the arch meditatively and repetitively until she felt a strange warmth starting to pool in her lower belly, tendrils of excitement creeping down the inside of her thighs.

Slow enough that it was almost cruel, he lifted her foot and kissed the top and then the inside of her ankle, his kisses leaving warm, wet patches that felt icy cold in the conditioned air. It took all of her self-control to stay still as his lips and tongue took a long, scenic route up her calf and behind her knee. Every twitch that gave her away felt like a point lost in this battle of theirs, this parrying of wills, the dance around the truth.

When he gave out a sigh that almost sounded like a moan and pressed his hot cheek against the inside of her cool thigh, it felt like a victory, even though the depths of her ached and flooded with fierce, heated anticipation.

“What a way to go,” he murmured to himself in answer to whatever thoughts were swirling around behind that vulnerable and hungry expression he was wearing. She started as she felt him nip at the soft, thin skin at the top of her inner thigh and she curled upwards, her hands scooping around his face, to pull him away, to push him down, to claw and slap at him, or everything all at once.

Elvis’ face as he awkwardly obeyed and climbed up so that he was poised over her, was so needy that it almost looked pained. His mouth slightly open and his brow knitted, he gave her a wet, sloppy kiss even as he was shoving down his pants. Their mingled breaths were rasping and fast and she snatched the opportunity to wriggle down, kissing a path along his side, making him twitch and then still as she reached the crease at his hip. It was all she could not to rut against the mattress as she salivated and moved fast, ready for his firm hand to push her back. It never came, and the musky, salty sweetness of his cock filled her mouth and made her hum a moan of recognition and delight.

Who was winning this battle now? She wasn’t sure, she only knew that she was delirious to be playing. Elvis was arched above her, his face wreathed in shadow as he watched her mouth work, his breathing light and panting, interspersed by little whines from the back of his throat. As her lips tingled and grew numb and she struggled to get enough air through her nose, he began to twitch and jerk forward, just a little.

“My turn,” he muttered breathily, not even sounding like himself as he drew back and grappled with her arms, pulling her up towards him. He didn't even manage a kiss before he was ripping down her underwear and burying himself inside her. She couldn’t tell if he was trembling or it was her, or the both of them, as he paused, trying to adjust to the way she gripped him in her warm, wet embrace.

Showing, as ever, that rhythm came naturally to him, he thrust deeper and knocked the air from her as she clung to his shoulders, keeping a steady, unrelenting pace.

Chancy rested her forehead on his shoulder and squeezed her eyes closed. She could hear herself breathing, then moaning, the sounds refining into words:

“Please, please, Elvis, please.” She was signaling defeat, a joyful, emphatic and ecstatic defeat in this fight of theirs. She wasn’t indifferent, or cool, or realistic. No, stripped back like this, she was still that desperate, hungry, besotted seventeen year old, ready to offer herself up to any pain, any suffering, for the chance to feel this way.

With a guttural groan, he stuttered and spilled into her. She felt him pulsing within her and her nerve-endings exploded with a surge of pleasure that was almost painful. He relaxed down on her, burying his sweaty face in the crook of her neck and she felt herself sinking into the mattress, breathing in the heady scent of them together. Tonight, at least, she had what she had always wanted.

Chancy waited for him to say something, to make one of his silly little comments or tease her for her neediness, but he was still and quiet. She knew what he was waiting for her to say, the final act of submission.

“I know what’s happening,” she whispered, before clearing her throat and repeating herself.

With a grimace, he peeled himself away from her shoulder and lifted his head so that he could see her face. There was not even a hint of a smirk on his face, it made it easier.

“I’m in love with you.” It sounded so stupid, redundant and repetitive. The teenager in her rolled her eyes like it was obvious, like it was easy to say. The adult Chancy felt like she was tearing out parts of herself to admit it. Like she was handing him that gun and helping him aim.

“Aw, honey,” he said finally, when she had started to feel cold spidery legs of embarrassment in her stomach, “we’re in love with each other. Don’t you know little us is just crazy for each other? Ain’t no stopping it now.”

She nodded, watching a happy smile spread slowly across his face, transforming it into radiance the way it always did.

“I love you,” she said, wondering if it would feel less like the words were ripping out from her chest the more she said it. “I love you, uh…” She lifted the pendant she was still wearing and pretended to read the diamonds. “Oh yeah, Elvis, that’s it.”

Jutting his jaw and clenching his teeth in a playful show of rage, he placed his whole hand over her face and pushed her back down onto the pillows. His hot breath played against her ear as he murmured:

“I love you too, baby.”

Just hours later, bleary-eyed and barely awake, Chancy stumbled in the direction of her car, having left Elvis submerged deep within a sea of medicated slumber. She watched Mr Presley get out of his car, about to head into the kitchen for his usual pre-work cup of coffee, when he went round to the trunk and pulled out a small bundle of wires and a small, silver microphone.

“Elvis, you sneaky bastard,” she murmured to herself, chuckling a little against her will.

Taglist:

@richardslady121 , @dkayfixates , @fallinlovewithurlove , @notstefaniepresley , @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith , @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation , @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts , @joshuntildawn13 , @i-r-i-n-a-a , @from-memphis-with-love , @ellie-24 , @be-my-ally , @vintageshanny

#elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #70s elvis #baby elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis imagine #elvis presley fanfic #elvis smut #whositmcwhatsit #enjoyable slide to oblivion

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obsessedvibee · 8 months

Text

Glowing Embers

Pairing: Benny!austin & Kathy/reader in the bikeriders universe

Disclaimer: I know nothing about biker gangs. I read a wikepidia page about them to give me a bit of knowledge but that's literally it. I just wanted to write a story/smut involving Austin's character Benny. This fiction has nothing to do with the actual movie story line. I got this entire story idea from the Bikeriders trailer. But if you pay attention you'll notice some lines & short scenes I tied into here from it. (Obviously smut is not in the trailer, nor do I know if any will be in the movie involving him....but I sure wont complain if there is..!!)

Summary: Benny and Kathy find themselves caught off guard when members from a different biker gang show up at their home. And Benny keeping Kathy in the dark about what's truly going on leads her to accusing him of cheating. Smut ensues.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, overstimulation, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex, a little bit of orgasm denial, light roughness, smoking, drinking, guns...I think that's all of it?

The breeze of the humid night air filtered in through the open window next to me, making my skin clammy. The leaves rustled in the trees nearby, a few crickets singing in the distance. It’d be a relaxing night if only Benny were here.

The sun set hours ago. Benny only told me he had some business to take care of before he left in a rush, the roar of his harley fading off into the countryside. I lost interest in the television three sit-com episodes ago. Now a book sat in my lap as I reread the same page over and over again, trying to will my mind to let go of the worry that grew by the hour.

My ears perked when I heard a rumble in the distance.

Benny.

Relief flooded through me.

He’s safe.

I left the book on the couch, quickly padding over to the front door, peeking through the side window watching for the single headlight coming down the driveway; but my excitement was short lived. Through the trees there were two bikes already waiting at the end for him. I held my breath as I watched Benny stop his bike. The other two men proceeded to get off their bikes and began approaching him.

Something wasn’t right.

In a panic I tore open the front door, “hey!” I hollered, running down the steps of the front porch. The gravel tore at the soles of my feet with every step. I had absolutely no plan as to what I was going to do to stop them, but distracting them was the first thing that came to mind.

One of the men glanced over, noticing me, grabbing the attention of his friend. They paused their approach on Benny. “The young pup’s ol’ lady was waiting up for him,” the larger man spoke. “Ain’t that sweet of her?”

My skin crawled as his eyes followed me.

“She has nothing to do with this,” the warning was clear in Benny’s voice as the shorter man continued his prowl towards me. “Kathy, get back inside.”

“And that's where you're wrong,” the larger man corrected. “You got hitched, so she’s a part of you now, boy.” He took the cigarette that was hanging from between his lips, and tossed it into the gavel. “You play around on our territory, we play around with yours.”

“That was never yours to begin with!” Benny snarled.

My arm was suddenly grabbed from behind, the shorter man's fingers digging into my flesh, making a pained sound escape my throat.

Benny lunged forward, “get the fuck off of her!”

In the blink of an eye, there was a slight nod from the bigger guy and immediately I was released. I quickly put space between him and myself. Benny shot past me going right for the other guy, a sickening crack was heard as his fist came in contact with his jaw. He stumbled back falling to the ground as Benny continued to swing time and time again.

“Benny,” I cautioned, stepping back, trying to snap him out of his rage.

The screeching of metal on metal caught both of our attentions. The other man had a knife lodged into the side of the gas tank on Benny’s bike. With a turn of his wrist gasoline began to trickle out onto the ground below.

Benny shoved the beaten man aside, quickly putting his body between them and I. “Get inside, Kathy.”

I stood frozen in shock.

“Now!” he growled.

I flinched, snapping out of my frozen state, making my way back to the house. I climbed the steps, and as I reached for the knob of the front door a gunshot split through the night air. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun around, my blood running cold.

Benny was holding a pistol to the sky, a cloud of smoke still coming out of the barrel.

I put my hand to my chest, relieved he was the one making the shot. The two men got a pep in their step, hurriedly getting on their bikes and roaring off into the night.

He reached behind him shoving his pistol back into the waistband of his jeans before making his way to his bike to survey the damage. Shaking his head to himself, he pushed his bike up the drive, putting down the kickstand to let it rest for the night beside the house.

He walked back to meet me, the porch light finally illuminating his face. He had a small nick on his forehead just above his eyebrow, a trail of blood slowly running down his face. His hands reached out to cradle my arm tilting it this way and that. Seeing I was injury free, he let go to cradle my face between his strong hands. He gently brushed the few stray hairs that were caught on my lips. His eyes were clouded with what almost felt like sadness. Disappointment maybe?

“Benny, I’m fine.”

The brooding look on his face only darkened further, “those mother fuckers are lucky they didn’t leave a mark on you, or I’d have ‘em surrounded right now.” He let go of my face, turning away clenching his fists, as the rage inside of him grew. “They come here to my house,” he walked over to the side of his truck, “and come terrorize my wife!?”

I flinched as his fist collided with the side mirror, bits of glass falling into the gravel. That alone hardly made a dent in calming his frustrations. He continued pummeling the driver's side window.

My patience thinned with every hit.

When he finally got the window to crack, I decided I had seen enough.

“Benny, that’s enough.” I had seen a copious amount of violence for one night.

His wild eyes met mine, anger still boiling under the surface.

I sat on the stoop, holding my hand out to him, “c’mere.”

He closed his eyes with his head tilted back, taking a few breaths before allowing himself to come over. He slowly placed himself next to me, his fingers fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. With a few swipes of his thumb a flame appeared casting an orange glow onto his face as he cupped his hand around it to light the stick between his lips.

I stayed quiet watching him as he took each drag, the end glowing as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs before exhaling. With each breath I could visibly see him relaxing, as if he were exhaling more than just smoke. Like every breath released a stressor into the air.

I leaned back against the railing, my eyes looking out down the driveway, where the one single street light shined, casting everything into a yellow haze. The events kept replaying in my head, their words circling over and over again. What could he have possibly done to instigate them coming to our property and adding me to the equation?

He tossed the small remaining end of his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “I’m sorry.”

I looked over at him, watching his eyes staring off into the distance only glancing down as I placed my hand over his. I waited patiently for him to continue, but he remained silent. I sighed trying to keep my own frustration in check as he chose to keep me in the dark. I stood up, pulling him with me up the stairs, through the living room and into the bathroom. I closed the toilet lid motioning for him to sit as I pulled a few things out of the closet to patch him up. I put myself to work cleaning his forehead and hands as best as I could letting the silence linger. I knew the destructive rage was sedated in him for now, but I could still feel something was off with him. His boot squeaked against the tiled floor as his knee bounced, and his eyes kept flitting around the room, looking everywhere but at me.

“Benny, what happened?”

He bit his bottom lip shaking his head, getting up to slip past me.

I sighed in frustration at his silence. I put away the items scattered on the counter, and followed his footsteps into the bedroom. He was in the middle of shucking his jacket off, pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Quietly, I padded over to him pressing my front to his back. He was hot to the touch, the tension still rolling off of him. I reached for the handle of his gun, pulling it from his jeans.

He turned to me, his eyes flicking from the gun in my hands to my face and back again. I knew he trusted me, but I’ve never touched any of his weapons before. I never had a reason to. I rotated the gun in my hands, the light from above glinting off the metal barrel.

“Is this what this club is turning to now?” I looked up at him, my brows furrowed.

He ran a hand over his face taking a deep breath, “no.”

I dropped my hands to my sides, “we’re not going to get anywhere if you’re going to lie.” I reached over, placing the gun gently on the dresser.

“Wha-? I’m not lying, Kathy. This thing keeps getting bigger by the day! It’s bigger than me or Johnny ever expected it to become. Some of these guys just think they own the whole goddamn world, and they need to be put back in their place!”

“So it’s your job to start waving a gun around?”

He chucked his boot down to the floor with more force than necessary, “it got the job done didn’t it?” he stalked over to his dresser opening a drawer. “I needed to protect my territory.” He reached in pulling out some clean underwear. He shoved it shut, looking back to me before he walked back into the bathroom. “I needed it to protect you.”

I rolled my eyes following him to the doorframe, “oh don’t go making this my fault!”

He reached into the shower turning the water on before popping the button open on his jeans pushing them down and stepping out of them, “I know you wanna say it.” His blue eyes burned into me across the small room.

I crossed my arms.

“Since you have the answer to everything else, you have to have the answer to this too, right?” he sneered.

“I want you to quit riding!”

“Don’t ask that,” he snapped, throwing his finger towards me before discarding the last of his clothing and stepping into the shower.

I felt like I’d just been scolded, and quite frankly I didn’t appreciate it. I slammed the door announcing my departure before making my way to the kitchen and pouring myself a small glass of whiskey. I walked the house making sure each and every door had been locked and turned the tv off in the living room. I downed the rest of the glass, welcoming the heated burn down my throat. Leaving it in the sink for the following morning, I made my way back to the bedroom.

He was already out of the shower, his hair wet, standing in just his briefs. “I failed you tonight,” he said quietly, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper.

I knew my mind jumped too far and too fast, but I couldn’t control it. Confusion suddenly filled my brain when the words from earlier resurfaced in my head. You play around on our territory, we play around with yours. They couldn’t possibly be talking about catching Benny with one of their women, could they? It almost started to make too much sense.

He turned to face me, and upon seeing the look on my face he quickly defended himself, “not like that! Fucking hell woman why the hell would you even think that of me?”

“Well you’re not exactly giving me a whole lot to work with, now are you?” It was low of me to go there. Deep down I knew he wouldn’t, but the added shock and stress from earlier and quietness from him shortened my fuse.

He stepped forward towering over me, “you are the only girl for me.”

“I know- I know, I’m sorry, I- I- don’t know-,” My heart thudded beneath my chest as I stuttered at the close proximity, his damp skin and aftershave was starting to get to me.

“I promise baby, it has nothing to do with another woman.” He held my face with both hands, tilting me to meet his gaze, “you own my cock.”

Heat flushed through my body.

“You need me to remind you?”

It took all I had to resist him, but I was determined to at least get one answer out of him.

“How did you fail me?”

He sighed, getting agitated as I ignored his advances, “I need to protect you, and I failed to do that tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They got their hands on you, and I swear to god, I could have shot that fucker that touched you.”

His masculine ego was bruised, being completely blindsided by being approached at our own home. Watching another man rough house me.

He needed something to make him feel back in control again. He still had all that tension coiled up in him. I finally took the bait.

“There's no other woman?”

A sly smile crept across his mouth and his eyes darkened, sparkling from the bedside lamp. “Get over here, you little brat.” He snaked his fingers in the hair at the back of my head giving it a tug forcing me to look up at him. “One more smart comment out of you and I’ll give you something to fill your mouth with.”

With that, he slotted his mouth over my own, his tongue entering my mouth quickly dominating. He pulled away with a little smirk bringing his thumb up to my lips pressing it inside. I swirled my tongue around his digit giving it a gentle suck before popping off of him. A growl resounded in his chest as he watched me. His hands reached down to the hem of my shirt and began tugging it up, exposing my bare abdomen to him. I helped him pull my shirt over my head, and my shorts hit the floor soon after.

He quickly pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my hips to the edge. He pulled my panties aside and dove in head first. I closed my eyes, letting him go to town. His mouth continued to work at my soft flesh, his tongue lapping hungrily.

Far too soon, he pulled away, and I whimpered at the loss. He yanked my panties off and discarded them to the floor. I anticipated the return of his warm mouth on me, but it never came. I propped myself up on my elbows looking down, only to see him with a little smirk, knowing and waiting. His arm flexed as he palmed himself over his jeans.

“Benny,” I whined, as I attempted to use my legs to pull him closer.

He hummed deviously, “I don’t think you deserve to cum just yet.”

Oh. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. It was one of those kinda nights.

“Scoot back,” he instructed.

As I shuffled back, he stripped down, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. He made his way to me, placing my head between his thighs. “Open up baby girl.”

I opened my mouth as he lowered his hips down slipping his cock into my waiting mouth. His salty precum flooded my tongue as I swiped at the head. I tongued at every inch wanting to work him up the way he did me. His own mouth found its way back to my area focusing on my clit, flicking over and over quickly bringing me back to the brink. I lifted my hips searching for something more, trying to tell him I wanted something more, something faster, but he backed off again instead.

I groaned in frustration around his shaft, the vibration earning a blurt of precum from him.

He started to piston his hips, his cock nudging the back of my throat. I gagged a bit, pulling a grunt from him.

I reached down, unable to resist the urge and began rubbing myself, craving a good release.

His hips faltered, never having seen me touch myself in front of him before. “Fuck.” I felt his breath on my hand. “Look at you, so desperate for me.”

He quickly became jealous of my own hand and pushed mine aside and his fingers went to work. He rubbed vigorously, and it was only a moment later I finally reached my peak.

Feeling a bit of compassion towards me he pulled himself out of my mouth letting me voice my pleasure. I cried out as I rode the peak, my body convulsing with the waves of rapture.

I eventually came back down to earth when I felt his hands at my hips flipping me over and lifting my ass up. “Time to fuck some sense into you baby,” he ran his hands up my waist and toyed with my bra strap, snapping it against my skin. “I hope you’re ready for a long night.”

I could only moan in response as he pushed into me. My wetness eased his entry and the tightness from my still-fizzling orgasm held his cock snuggly.

He cursed under his breath and stilled for his own sake. “You were made for me,” he murmured, before pulling his hips back and pushing himself back in.

He made work with his hands pinching the clasp of my bra, pulling the straps down my arms. It fell to the bed, but I too blissed out to even care to pull my arms out.

Draping his body over mine he reached around and cupped my breasts as they shook with every thrust of his hips.

I arched my back pushing into his hips to meet each of his thrusts, encouraging him to go harder. He quickly took the cue, his pace increasing. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, and his breaths became heavier. He mouthed at the shell of my ear, “you like it a little rough, don’t you?”

I already felt another coil tightening in my stomach. Goosebumps covered every inch of me as I felt his teeth gently graze my shoulder. One of his hands reached under me and started toying with my clit, making me gasp. “Gimme another one baby, I know you cum harder when you're sensitive.”

In the midst of dominance, he still managed to pay attention to the details.

I fell into the throngs of passion again.

He growled, as he felt my body squeeze around him. His hand suddenly came in contact with my ass, a quick bite to my flesh as the slap resounded in the room.

I shrieked, the bed sheets clenched tightly in my fists. I shook with every tremor, while he continued his assault on my pussy as I rode out the euphoria, my core clenching down on him like a vice.

“Atta girl,” he praised, running his hand soothingly over the newly reddened skin on my cheek, moving to my back when I finally tipped the peak and started to come back down. His hand left my clit alone and pulled himself out of me making me groan from the sensitivity.

I collapsed rolling onto my back as I caught my breath, my whole body tingling. Cracking my eyes open, I saw him sitting back lightly stroking his cock as he watched me. His cock was an angry red; his fingers lightly grazing his tip and coming back down again. “You haven’t cum yet?” I breathed.

He chuckled, letting himself go, laying himself over me. I instinctively spread my legs open for him. He nudged at my folds as he spoke, “I’m saving the best for last.”

My toes curled as he pushed into me again. He quickly began an unforgiving pace, his thrusts getting harder as his animalistic side began to surface. He began to grunt as the force of his thrusts grew. “Only you, baby,” he assured between his groans.

Moments later he rolled us over placing me above him. “Think you can finish us off?”

I bit my lip, trying to stop my smile. I sat myself up and began to rock my hips, shifting his cock deliciously inside of me. All my cares were thrown out the window as I moaned out into the room not giving a single damn of how much I voiced my pleasure. I could feel a new sense of euphoria building in me, and I was desperate to get us both there.

I pulled out every trick I knew. I reached back and fondled his sac for a bit, I leaned forward and let him mouth at my tits for a while. I could feel the sweat beading at my brow and my legs were starting to burn as both of us started getting desperate but neither of us wanted to be the one to let go first. I leaned back placing my hands on his thighs letting him watch my pussy grip his cock. I shifted my legs, getting a better position to bounce on him.

“God, you are too fucking good to me,” he whispered stroking my waist.

Pride swirled in my chest. I leaned my body over him pressing my mouth to his as I rocked my hips. Every tilt forward pressed his pubic bone into my clit making me moan. I suddenly felt something different begin to build. I sat up with a small gasp.

“What is it baby?”

I reached for his hand, “just touch me.”

I placed his fingers on my clit and he began to gently rub but it wasn’t doing it. I touched his hand, “harder and faster,” I breathed. He obliged willingly.

“Something's different this time.”

A smirk began to play on his lips, “a good different?”

I was almost heaving for breath as my peak continued to grow, “yea.”

He bit his lip shifting his legs to get some more leverage to help thrust at a better angle. “Just tell me what you need.”

A different kind of pressure was beginning to grow in my pelvis as I continued to ride him, his cock nudging a sweet spot deep inside me.

“Just don’t stop.”

He kept rubbing and kept pushing his hips up into me when the overwhelming sudden urge to push came about.

I let my body do what felt right.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my jaw dropped as liquid suddenly spread between us and my head felt like it was higher than the clouds. A strangled cry clawed its way out my throat and I felt Bennys hands grip my thighs as he was catapulted into his own release.

My hand rushed to replace his hand on my now neglected clit as we both gripped each other for dear life. The pleasure tore through us simultaneously, both of us grinding our hips into each other prolonging the bliss.

I slowly came back to earth when I felt Benny’s fingers digging painfully into my thighs.

“Kathy- baby, baby- you gotta- hold on,” he moaned.

I stopped moving and he fell back laying flat on the bed, his abdomen heaving with his breaths. “Fucking shit,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to cut you short but-” he swallowed thickly, “just give me a minute.” He laid there for a moment with his eyes shut letting his body come back down. “Also, did I miss something, or did you just squirt?”

I half laughed, a little embarrassed by the wetness between us, “I honestly didn’t really know I could do that, I’ve never done that before.”

A groan escaped his throat as I gently pulled myself off of him, his release quickly running back out of me. “Benny,” I whined.

“Yep,” he replied, slipping out from under me, to grab a towel from the bathroom, “on it.”

Soon after we were both cleaned up, sheets changed, and we were both snuggled underneath.

He had me pulled into his chest, our legs intertwined, his fingers gently carding themselves through my hair.

“I’m sorry I accused you of being with another woman,” I murmured softly.

He let the silence beat for a few moments before replying, “I’m sorry I even gave you a reason to think that.”

The fan in the corner blew a cool breeze over us, and the sound of his steady breaths soothed me.

“It’s just so hard when I have nothing but time to think when you're gone, and then when you’re here, you hardly tell me anything that's going on.” He stayed quiet, listening to me. “You know how my mind works,” I added more quietly.

“I promise I’m working on getting things back under control, baby. Once Johnny hears of this, you won't have to worry anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to my hair. “Ain’t nothing going to happen to either of us, I’ll make sure of it.”

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