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lilywastaken · 1 year

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FIVE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A letter in the mail changes everything.

WARNINGS: Mentions of canon typical violence, gore, blood, death; angst, fighting, slight NSFW, a really big rollercoaster of emotions, I'm sorry.

A/N: AFTER ALMOST THREE WEEKS!! I AM SO SORRY IT'S HERE IT'S HERE SOUND THE BELLS!!! Please don't froget to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, it helps so fucking much!!

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged in future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account - @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

“You know you can just go to bed, right?”

“Mmm...” You yawned, leaning your head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub’s edge as you watched Tommy try to grab at one of the toys you’d placed in the water for him, leaning over to push it towards him. “...’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept properly for a few days.” Simon tried again, arms crossed over his chest as he tried his best to not just grab you and shove you into bed and finish Tommy’s bath on his own.

“Noted…” You said, voice groggy and throat sore but still with enough energy to snap at him. “Just go…”

Go where? He wanted to snap back, but kept himself quiet, looking away from your body slumped on the floor to your bed, letting out a frustrated sigh.

It’d been a few days since he’d come back from the mission that had ended with him and the task force in your home, and despite the warm farewell you’d both shared, when he came back, you’d seemed to have grown colder towards him for no apparent reason, and God, did he hate how much it reminded him of the first few months of whatever this was, insisting to do everything by yourself and leaving no room for discussion, taking up almost all of Tommy’s time with yourself.

Which was fine, you were his mother, after all, but it just felt a bit like… You were pushing him away, keeping him from your son all over again.

He didn’t like it.

“I got some curry, go eat and let me finish him up.” He took a few steps towards you, leaning down and placing a hand on your back, immediately being taken aback as you jumped away from his touch, arm placed protectively over yourself as if he’d just tried to attack you.

“No!” You all but screamed, staring up at him in shock before seemingly realising what you’d just done. “No. I- I said it’s fine, Simon. Go eat, I’ll finish.”

He furrowed his eyebrows beneath the mask, clenching his fists at his sides as he watched you turn around again to call out softly at Tommy, who turned his head to you with a bright smile, unaware of the tension filling up the room between his parents.

“Fine.” He said gruffly, not missing the way your shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice.

He really didn’t fucking understand what had happened between you two, what could’ve occurred in the span of the few days he’d been gone to change the way you acted towards him completely…

It was worrying, the whole scenario that was playing out making him sick to his stomach as he took out the food he’d bought, making you a plate before his and pouring you a drink, simply staring at his own food while listening to you whisper to Tommy through the walls, suddenly having lost all his appetite.

You hadn’t even gotten to talk like he’d promised when he came back, you’d dismissed any and every attempt to start a conversation, keeping it to short words and sentences, seemingly not wanting anything to do with him apart from the things you were basically obligated to talk to him about.

And god, did he fucking hate it.

“Let me feed him.” He spoke as you walked out of your bedroom with Tommy in your arms, his hair damp and curly from the water, chubby hands clinging onto one of his toys.

“I can-”

“I’m going to feed him.” Simon snapped, walking over to you and reaching for his son, his towering figure and the fire in his eyes immediately shutting you up as you didn’t put on more of a fight, letting him take the small boy. “And you’re going to eat and then go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Tommy was placed in his chair, a plate of rice in front of him. “You need rest.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest.” You retorted, voice almost gone, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away from him, yet still keeping a watchful eye on him and Tommy, once again insinuating further that you didn’t trust him anymore anywhere near your son.

Keep it calm. Not around Tommy.

You saw it by the way he clenched his hand around the fork in his hand, he was trying his best to not snap with your son present, not wanting to subject the small boy to that kind of spectacle.

And yes, you didn’t either, but you couldn’t just act like everything was normal around him, you knew how you were acting now was just a trauma response to what had happened in the time he’d been gone, that it would all hopefully be better if you told him about it, but the mere thought of the files you’d received in the mail that were currently sitting in one of the cupboards’ drawers made you feel nauseated.

You just… couldn’t see him the same.

Yeah, you were once a kid with unlimited access to the internet, yes you accidentally saw some gore shit online, you’d heard some disgusting things thanks to your grandfather that had served in the military, you’d seen all the mess and blood after you’d given birth, you weren’t fully desensitised to gore or blood, but you’d seen it across the years.

But those pictures, fuck. It wasn’t any surprise that you’d immediately thrown up after opening them, having expected maybe some letters about rent or something, not- whatever that was.

What you’d been able to discern after flipping through them a few times was that they were not the original military’s file but copies, which by the way the ink was smudged on a few of them and the lettering was off, seemed to have been made under a lot of pressure and on a time limit.

You didn’t understand at first, why they had been sent to you, too in shock and terrified of the images amongst them to even connect it to Simon until you saw his callsign. And as you started to read through them more carefully, you realised that it was everywhere.

And fuck, you’d never been more terrified in your life.

Of course, you were aware of what a man in his position did, but you’d never explicitly asked him about it, never wanted to actually be exposed to whatever things he and the task force did to protect your country.

But seeing it written down, all the specifics along with the pictures, it was traumatising.

You hadn’t even realised how much time you’d spent staring at them until Tommy alerted you with a cry, snapping you out of it and forcing you to put the files down (although putting them down anywhere in your house made you feel sick), body shaking and bile rising into your throat once again.

Obviously, there was no name on the envelope and of course, no return address, so the person who sent the files to you remained a mystery, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce that it was someone who’d been close to everything that had been depicted in them, someone who’d figured out who you were and what relationship you had to the SAS Lieutenant, and either wanted to send some type of message that you were to shook up to decipher or to simply toy with your emotions, all you knew was that somehow, they’d figured out Ghost’s oh-so secretive double life out.

How, you had no idea. But you did know what that meant.

You and Tommy were in danger.

And you didn't know how you were supposed to react.

Seriously, how?

Everything was too much at once, the files, the pictures, the fear, Tommy, Ghost, you-

And then he came back.

Acting like he’d never done anything of what you’d seen, holding your face in those warm hands and being so sweet towards you and your son, conflicting you even more.

You didn't feel safe anymore, not just around Simon, but in general. And seeing him lean down to pick up Tommy with those hands, those hands that had caused what you’d seen, you just jumped into action, scooping Tommy up before he could reach him and insisting he would need to have a shower before touching him.

You just couldn’t fathom how a man like that could treat you both with such kindness, how his hands could go from doing that to someone and then holding you softly at night, it was confusing and sickening and all you wanted to do was get rid of everything, go back to before where you had no idea of what happened while he was gone and you could indulge yourself in his touch without that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

How were you supposed to bring up a topic like that to him? How were you supposed to look him in the eyes after that information, hand him the files and receive confirmation that they were in fact real and true? And what would you do? Force him to explain himself like a wife confronting her husband over an affair? This wasn’t anything like that, this was his job, something he’d been doing for ages and needed no explanation, especially to you. What, would you force him to apologise to all the people he’d hurt?

Of course not.

But still, you couldn’t just act normal.

Even if you felt slightly bad.

Even if he looked at you like that, the way he’d done at the beginning of your relationship.

You… Couldn’t…

You didn’t even process the tears running down your cheeks until he shot up from his spot and his warm hands came into contact with your cheeks, pulling your head up to look at you properly, making you stumble as the exhaustion and overwhelm finally caught up to you.

He called your name with such confusion and care, despite how mean you’d treated him these past few days, your hands coming up to grab at his arms for stability as he asked you what was wrong, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, listen t’me, come-”

“I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t-” You sobbed out, your breathing erratic as you tried your best to stop yourself from crying, but once the dam had been broken, there was no way of fixing it. “Simon-”

“Come ‘ere.” He let go of your face, arms falling to your body and wrapping around you, pulling you into a hug and letting you grab at his shirt, despite that repulsive feeling stirring deep within your chest once again at his touch. “Fuck, lovie…”

“Don’t…” You murmured into his shirt as soon as the pet name had slipped out of his lips, squeezing your eyes closed.

“What?”

“Don't” You repeated, pushing yourself away from him and taking a few unsure steps back. “I- I can’t I-” You shook your hands as if there were muck on them, confused and anxious as you tried to breathe, spiralling further and further into a panic attack.

You weren’t really there for what happened next, Simon could tell as he held you almost limp in his arms, trying his best to calm you down from whatever was happening. Panic attacks for the both of you weren’t unnormal, he knew that, you’d both been subject to anxiety for a long time, so this wasn’t completely new, but you fainting from the exhaustion and him having to bring you to bed was.

And because you were asleep, he had no way of figuring out what had happened, what the cause of this whole mess was and how he could help you through it.

He’d placed Tommy in the crib you'd brought into your room a few days ago, letting you both take a well-deserved nap while he cleaned up the abandoned food outside. And well, after that, he picked a beer out of the fridge, convinced that he was deserving of one too after everything. But of course, the bottle opener was nowhere to be found, so he was forced to look through all the different drawers in the kitchen and living room until he found it.

But… He didn’t. Instead, he was greeted with a file envelope messily shoved into one of the cupboards beneath a few pictures of Tommy you’d put up, blank and very much looking like some of the files that they kept back at base.

He pulled it out, looking down at the drawer that was filled with little trinkets, stones and incense, definitely not the drawer where you’d stick something like this.

Maybe he should have put it back, but he finally decided against it, pulling the contents out and spilling them across the wooden top of the small cupboard, fear immediately being stricken within him as he laid eyes upon the papers.

What the actual fuck.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, some of these he’d written him fucking self, all the reports for recent missions where he’d been the one to finish off most of the enemy’s team.

He recognised each and every picture that came along with the textual description, remembered the face and the voice of the person who had been unfortunate enough to meet him during a mission.

He knew them, he’d had them in his hands at one point, that didn’t fucking explain why you had them.

A thousand scenarios rushed through his brain as he stared down at them, hands gripping at the edges of the wooden piece of furniture in order to keep himself from breaking his hands from the force he was clenching his fists with, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as his mind went down the deepest rabbit holes to explain why you had this.

Had you been using him to get inf-

No.

Was this all a game to y-

No!

No, you weren’t… You weren’t a fucking enemy. You weren’t his enemy. You weren’t that type of person. You wouldn’t just fucking babytrap him to get information.

No one was sick enough for that.

…right?

“Fuck!” He roared, slamming his hands down onto the wood and staring deep into the picture of the soulless eyes of one of his victims, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

No. He wasn’t going to think of you like that. You loved Tommy too much for it all to be an act. He loved y-

Simon raised his hands up to his face to press them into his eyes until he saw flashing lights, trying to calm himself down.

He turned around as soon as he heard the squeak of the floorboards, furious eyes landing on your dishevelled figure as you clung to the doorframe, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight as you saw what he’d been looking at.

“Sim-”

“Why do you have this?” A shiver ran throughout your body at the sound of his voice, calm and calculated, like he hadn’t just woken you up with a shout loud enough to shake the building.

“Si-”

“Answer.” Ghost replied, eyes focused solely on you as you looked down at your feet, a pressure building in your chest as you tried to speak.

“They were sent to me.” You finally choked out, flinching back as Simon made a move to pick them up, unknowing of the connotations that answer could have.

Silence.

“Do you really think I’d go out of my way to find those? Do you think I wanted to see you like that- like Ghost?” You started, voice wavering. “Fuck, Simon, those- I couldn’t even look at them a second time, I feel sick just fucking thinking of them!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” He shouted, turning around in a flash and taking a few jarring steps towards you, files all bunched up in his shaking hands. “Why didn’t you think to mention that you were being sent shit like this!?”

“Because I was fucking scared, Simon! I was fucking terrified that this meant that they know who I was, who Tommy is, who he’s related to! That they know about us and therefore can use us as leverage against you! Unlike you, I’m not that fucking desensitised to pain, to whatever you do, to the fear of getting hurt so that they can get to you! I’m not part of the fucking military, I’m just a fucking civillian who is clearly very much in danger thanks to a fucking mistake she made with you!” You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks and blurring your vision as you shoved a finger into his chest. “So I’m sorry, okay!’ I’m fucking sorry that I was too afraid to bring this up! To bring up the fact I can’t see you the same, that I’m scared Tommy’s going to be hurt and I won’t be able to do anything about it, I’m fucking sorry!”

You let out another sob as you finished, your voice sore and throat dry from letting all of that out.

“‘M not like you, Simon.”

Fuck.

Everything came crashing down onto him, guilt the only thing weighing Simon down.

“I’m… scared.”

“Of me?” He finally breathed out, raising his free hand to cup your cheek, relief flooding his body as you didn’t move away but immediately being crushed as he saw the fearful look on your face.

“...I don’t know…”

A beat.

“...Should I be?”

Maybe.

“...I’d never hurt you. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. You and Tommy are my family, and I’m going to protect you both no matter what. I won't let anyone ever lay a hand on you. You need to know that. The man I’m out there isn’t the same as the one I’m here. But neither of us would hesitate to rip apart whatever bastard is making you feel like this.”

He let the files fall, cupping your face with both hands, shaking you slightly so you got the message to look up at him.

“I know I can’t undo this, what you’ve seen, what I’ve done, but I want to be here for you. You know I’ll always be here for you.” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You said, voice breaking. You couldn’t fully express what you were feeling right then, you… you didn’t hate him, it would be impossible to truly hate Simon, after everything he’d done for you; you just needed time and space. His view of you might’ve not changed in the whole time he’d been with you but yours definitely had, and that was normal, considering everything he did. You just couldn’t act like everything was normal after what you’d seen.

“...go back to bed. We’ll talk this out once you’re rested.” He let you go, watching you walk back into your room with a guilty look on your face before turning to his now still beer, the appetite he’d had for one having vanished.

“...Simon?” You whispered before closing the door, hand clinging onto the wood.

“Yeah?” He replied, a bit gruffly.

“...Tommy’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, giving you a reassuring look, one he hoped you caught despite the mask. “‘Course he is.”

He watched you hesitate at the door for a split second, almost like you were deciding whether or not to say anything to further the conversation, but seemingly decided against it, closing the door after a quick nod and leaving him in silence.

Silence.

Something he used to enjoy before, when he was alone at home or at base with only himself for company, letting him unwind and think about whatever he wanted to. Now, it was overwhelming.

It felt like every single thought rushing through his brain was out to catch him or hurt him, showing him the most horrific scenarios and ideas of what could happen thanks to whatever fucker had decided to play some sick joke on you.

Was it even a joke? It could be hundreds of things, a joke, a message, a threat…

Or just a form of psychological warfare, a way of messing with you and no doubt hoping to distance you from him, to leave him weak and defenceless like the enemy anticipated. That was the more credible reason, even if the mere thought of someone sending you shit like this in hopes of breaking you drove him insane to the point of wanting to catch and dispose of that abstard with his own two hands, ironic considering that those acts of anger and violence had been the whole reason for your dispute.

It pissed him off to no end.

But, even though a lot of people would’ve acted on the current emotions rushing through him if they were in his place, Simon knew that focusing solely on finding the bastard wasn’t the most important subject at hand. As much as he wanted this threat on your happiness and safety disposed of, he couldn’t just fuck off and leave you here to deal with the damage and Tommy all on your own.

He’d repeated it to himself countless times before going on a mission, he was a protector, he was your protector, even if in the future you decided you hated his guts or something happened between you two, you’d always be safe and secure with him, no matter what.

And so, he swallowed that horrible need for retaliation and picked up his phone, dialling in his captain’s number.

“What’d you do with them?”

“Burnt them.” Simon grunted, wiping away the mess Tommy had made around his mouth. “Best way of disposing shit like that.”

You hummed, clearly out of it, staring at the news playing out on the tv.

“I told Laswell about it. ‘Said she’d do her best to find out who was the one who made the copies.”

“Right…” You drummed your fingers against your mug with feigned disinterest, truly not knowing what to say back.

“And, until whoever it is is caught, I’m not going anywhere.”

That caught your attention. You turned to him with an inquisitive look, confused. “What?”

“Asked her to stop givin’ me missions until they’re sure you’re not in danger.” He clarified, picking Tommy up from his high chair and straddling him to his side. “So I’m here in case anything happens.”

Tommy was carefully handed to you, Simon’s body plopping down onto the sofa next to you a few seats away, his feet coming up to rest on the coffee table as he picked up his own tea.

“‘That okay? Figured you’d feel better if it was me and not some random guy sent by the SAS. Though Gaz was pretty up for it when asked…” He mumbled the last part, showing you did indeed have an option if you truly didn’t feel safe with him around anymore (his heart stung a bit at the thought of it, but it was what it was), but you soon shut it down with a simple shrug, pulling Tommy closer to you so he could rest his head on your chest, rubbing his back with your free hand.

“It’s… okay. I’m just going to need some time.”

You were a bit ashamed of how you’d reacted last night when he’d confronted you about the files, but you still stood by everything you said, even if you’d said it a bit too harshly, it didn’t matter. You weren’t like him, after all, you were still afraid of things happening to you and of course, your son, and just needed some time to process what you hadn’t in all the months of knowing Simon: that whether you liked it or not, you would always be tied back to him, even if the mere thought of being hurt just because of who you’d randomly decided to go back home with one night.

“You said something last night.” He began, outstretching a hand towards you both so Tommy could grab at one of his fingers.

“I said a lot of things last night.” You tried to humour, but stayed quiet as the expression in his eyes didn’t change.

“You said that you were in danger because of a mistake you made.”

You flinched at the words, biting down on your lower lip as you recalled back to the outburst you’d subjected Simon to last night, that particular part having slipped out in the heat of the moment.

“...did you really mean that?”

“Fuck! Of course not!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb Tommy any more than you both already had in the last few days, shaking your head to further your point. “No- Fuck, tat- that was so disgusting of me to say. It might’ve been a mistake back then when it first happened-” You saw his shoulders slump slightly, so you moved to grab at the arm he’d put out, catching his attention. “-but I’d never change it. Not for anything in the world. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have Tommy, and he- God, Simon, he’s my son, of course he isn’t a mistake, he’s my everything…”

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding along with your words as you both looked down at Tommy, curious big eyes switching between you two as if able to understand the conversation that had just transcurred, giving you a toothless smile.

Well, not really toothless, since he had been crying for almost a month now due to the pain of his teeth coming in, so there were a few flashes of white across the smile.

“Yeah, you’re my everything too.”

“Huh?”

You’d expected him to immediately backtrack on his answer and say he was talking to Tommy, but he simply shrugged again, eyes darting from you to Tommy with a fond look reflecting in them as he did everything but take back what he said. “Both of you. Might be corny, but it’s true. I told you.”

His everything.

Simon’s everything.

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did.

Everything was going to be okay.

Yeah, it would take some time for you to adjust like you’d told him, but he was okay with that. He’d wait for you.

"Come on, please, wake up."

Simon's hands were shaking, gripping at your lifeless body as if you were the only thing that mattered in the midst of this living nightmare, his mask growing wet as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, his breathing growing erratic as your body slumped in his grasp.

He called your name desperately, your body shaking in his hold from the way his own hands were trembling and in a feeble attempt at getting you to wake up, to open your eyes, to say his name in that fucking beautiful voice of yours, anything.

His gloved hands came up to cradle your paling face, running it over your features to rub off the dust and ashes that had stuck to the now drying blood, dropping your body in horror as instead of the grime he wanted to wipe off, he was left with nothing, his hand growing warm as the blood from your now horrifying carcass started to flow.

He was drowning, he was choking, he couldn't fucking breathe, he couldn't think, you were dead, you were gone, his fucking life didn't have meaning anym-

Simon jolted up as the pressure that had been building in his chest finally exploded, the dam that had been working so hard to keep his fears at bay breaking, letting the tears that Simon always tried his best to contain out.

Fuck, it felt like he'd really lived it, like he had held your dying body in his hands as you slowly slipped away from him, like his the recurring fears of him causing your end had come true.

He felt pathetic, like the broken man he really was, lying on the fucking sofa like always trembling like a little kid, the tears a constant stream down his cheeks, all the emotions and stress from the past few months finally catching up to him.

His breathing was raspy and uneven, reflecting the anxiety rushing through his veins at that very same moment.

He felt awful, he was awful, an awful, destroyed, broken man who had been tipped over the edge by a stupid fucking dream.

Someone undeserving of everything you’d given to him.

He was sure his heart was going to break through his chest with how quickly it was beating against his ribcage, one of his hands coming up to clench at the material of his creased shirt.

He felt like he was about to pass out.

His eyesight was blurry, his limbs shaky and his mouth dry, clear indications of the oh-so familiar panic attacks he’d been prone to every since he was a young boy, hat he’d grown enough to know how to control, but he knew that right now, he did not have enough willpower to keep himself from spiralling down into his own thoughts.

He blindly got up, staggering around the living room as the blanket that had been draped over him pooling onto the floor. He pushed open your door, breaths staggering as his teary eyes made contact with your sleeping body, darting towards the crib right next to your bed where Tommy slept peacefully, making sure to stay quiet as he entered the bathroom.

He didn’t want to wake you up, to annoy you even more than you already were with him after everything that had happened, despite almost a month having gone by after it all, you deserved rest, you deserved fucking better than h-

His hands gripped the porcelain sink as he stumbled into the room, staring at his uncovered reflection in the mirror, his cheeks red and blotchy from having cried mere moments ago, a few stray tears continuing their pathway down his face.

He felt ridiculous.

He was supposed to be some hard willed strong Lieutenant, not the pathetic man who cried at a mere nightmare he really was.

"...Simon?"

The sound of shuffling sheets reached his ears, your muffled voice coming from beneath the covers as you stirred, his panicked footsteps and the light shining through the crack of the bathroom door enough to wake you from your slumber.

"'S that you?"

Who else would it be? He wanted to joke, but stayed quiet, hoping you would just go back to sleep.

But clearly, you weren't satisfied with no answer.

He watched the door open behind him from the mirror, freezing like a deer in headlights as you walked in sporting one of his dirty shirts he'd told you once you could wear, hiding the fact he wanted to see you in his clothes behind the pretence that it would be easier to do laundry, sweatpants (his, as well) tied at your waist so they wouldn't slip down your legs.

"Simon." You mumbled, eyes barely open and vision blurry as you held onto the door frame for stability, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you yawned. "What's wrong?"

You knew something was off as soon as you'd heard him creep into the bathroom, already knowing from experience that Simon never got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, fearing that he'd wake you up like he’d done just now-

“Nuffin’, lovie. Go back to bed.”

You frowned, squinting at him through swollen eyes, the bright lights from the bathroom and the sleep in them not helping your vision in the slightest, moving your head to rest against the cool wood of the doorframe. “It’s not, though, is it?”

A beat.

“Simon…” You said, mid-yawn, outstretching a hand to blindly grab at his sleep shirt, tugging at the material. “Tell me.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to not break down like he knew he wanted to, his grip on the sink slowly growing stronger as you stumbled towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing the side of your face to his warm back, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"I said it's fine." He whispered, hand coming up to yours and attempting to peel it from his body, giving up once it immediately snapped back.

Part of him wanted you to stay like that, but the other, more reasonable part knew that it would be best if he didn't burden you with his nightmares and if you just went to bed.

"You wouldn't be crying if it was." You murmured, unlinking your hands and running them over his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath his shirt.

"'Not crying, lovie."

"You have to stop lying to me, Simon. It isn't healthy." You mumbled angrily, pulling yourself away and looking up at him, feeling the blood leave your face as you realised you were staring at the back of his actual head instead of the black material of his balaclava like you'd gotten used to.

Simon had never explicitly told you that he was uncomfortable with you seeing his face, but you could only assume after all the time he spent with his face obstructed, even with Tommy.

So you looked down at your feet, making sure to not peek at the mirror like you knew you really wanted to, not wanting to upset him by breaking his trust.

"...I know." He sighed, turning on the tap and splashing his face with some of the water, finding it a bit humorous that he did it with you still clinging onto him, placing a damp hand over one of yours and giving it a squeeze.

"Come on…" you sighed, letting go of him reluctantly and turning your body towards the door, flipping the light switch off before blindly outstretching an arm out to him, letting out an amused huff as you immediately met his own hand, pulling him out of the small bathroom and back into the comfort of your room. "Stay?"

"...'course." He breathed out, following you mindlessly as you returned back into your spot in the bed, almost like routine now after all the times you'd brought him to bed with the same comforting hold on his hands, kneeling on the mattress and all but collapsing onto the soft covers, running his hands over them until they met your warm body, running his fingertips over the patch of skin that had been revealed by the rise of your shirt, letting out a shaky breath as your own hands came up to run over his arms.

He fluttered his eyes shut, closing the distance between you to and letting his body fold into your touch, snuggling his face into the valley of your breasts (he thanked whatever god was up there that his shirt was big enough to expose your cleavage, a very welcoming sight), and grasping at your thighs for stability.

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer into you until he'd grabbed at your legs to wrap around his waist, fingers running through his coarse hair, stopping at the top of his head every few seconds to scratch at his scalp, and if Simon was a cat, he knew damn well he'd be purring right then.

"It's okay to cry, you know that, right?" You whispered, voice muffled by his hair as you let out a breath, his short hair tickling your cheek from how you'd pressed your face against it. "Better out than in."

"You sound like my mom." He grumbled, pulling a snort out of you as you ran your nails down his nape. "'Always said shit like that."

You stayed quiet, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest that wanted you to continue on with the conversation, curious for learning more about his mysterious family.

"'Said'?" You whispered, almost nervous, scared you'd overstepped.

He stayed silent, only furthering your fear that you'd insulted him until he let out an elongated sigh, hands pulling you impossibly closer as his warm breath hit your skin, face flushing at the reminder that if was his actual face pressing against your cleavage, not the rough material of the painted balaclava.

"Don' see her as much. Not in the best condition to have a chat. Tommy takes care of her mostly."

"Tommy?" You said in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes darted over to your son's crib, the glow-in-the-dark stars you'd stuck to the sides of it illuminating it enough to reflect your sleeping son's cute little face.

He froze in your arms as if he'd said something wrong. "My… my brother."

"Your brother's called Tommy?!" You almost shouted, peeling yourself off of him to look down at him (ignoring the slight whine that formed in his throat at the feeling of your body being torn away from his), despite not even being able to see him.

"Yeah…" he grumbled, trying to pull you back into his arms, frowning as you slapped at his shoulders to catch his attention.

"That's - Why you reacted like that, right?" You mumbled, thinking back to the night he'd met Tommy for the first time, the way his eyes had gone blank like you'd just reminded him of some painful memory.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

You hadn't thought much about it at the time, since by then, you had more important things to worry about, but now that he'd revealed his brother's name, his shock made sense.

"Yeah…Was kind of… Tragically funny, lovie." He sighed, running your hands over your waist as you finally pulled him back into your hold.

"Yeah… I didn't know."

"How could've you? I left before I could even give you my last name." He huffed, rubbing the side of his cheek on your chest.

Silence filled the room once again, only being broken by the shuffling sounds of the sheets over you or Tommy's occasional whines, continuing your brushing of his hair with your fingers.

You didn't want to pry further into the topic that had been at hand before you'd interrupted, squeezing your eyes closed as you inhaled his shampoo, shivering beneath his touch as he ran his fingers around your belly button.

"She's in a home. Near where I grew up. Nice one. I only talk to her on the holidays." He started, running them up to the space below your breasts. "It's better that way. Tommy's the nicer one of us."

"Didn't he used to terrorise you?" You teased, trying to lighten the mood, letting out a cry as he licked a stripe up your clavicle, no doubt grinning into the darkness as you slapped his head.

"Going to stop telling you things from now on if you insist on using them against me in the future, lovie." He murmured, pressing a kiss to where he'd just licked as an apology, ignoring the way your skin grew warmer beneath his touch. "But… he's cleaned his act up. Not as much as a cunt. Probably afraid I could rip him in two, now."

You snorted, hesitantly pushing his bangs back to press a kiss to his forehead, almost giggling at the pleased hum that left his lips. "Si… you, uh… want to talk about why you were crying?"

Simon noticeably tensed beneath your touch as you brought up the whole reason as to why he was in your bed, another breath hitting your skin.

He thought about lying to you once again, but finally decided against it, throwing a glance at his son over his shoulder as if the boy would understand the next words that would come out of his mouth.

"Just… a stupid nightmare. You… I jus’ wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn't mean to wake you, really." He let out all in a string pulled together by one breath, hands coming down to grab at your thighs and rub at them through the material of your bottoms, letting out a shaky sigh as you moved them to wrap around his body. "Fuckin' stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not stupid if it affected you this much, Si…" You tried, not wanting to pry further into the contents of the nightmare, but still not wanting to drop the subject all together. “Even the strongest people need a shoulder to cry on.”

You cupped his face, bringing it off your chest, looking down at what you could only assume to be his face.

“Let me be yours.”

You didn’t move as he shuffled closer to you, running your thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned closer into you, feeling his warm breath hit your face.

“Mine?” He mumbled, your hair standing on edge as you felt his lips brush against yours ever so slightly.

“Mhm… Yours.” You breathed out, nodding as if he could see you.

Heat rushed to your face as soon as his lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan you let out as his hands moved beneath your shirt, tightening at your waist.

And God, did it feel right.

Nothing had ever felt as right as this did right then, the feeling of his lips slotted against yours and his hands seemingly everywhere on your body, causing you to go near dizzy and drunk on his touch.

“Fuck, love.” He said between kisses, moving you onto your back so he was hovering over you properly, leaning down to catch your lips back into a passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to breathe or let out your own moans, immediately swallowing up each and any sound you made.

His hands came down to your thighs, helping you wrap them around his waist before he moved away to press pecks along your jawline, moving further down until he was leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your upper chest, his stubble tickling your skin.

“S-Sim-”

He shushed you, sucking on the pressure point of your neck, pressing closer to you as you let out another breathless whine, his eyelashes brushing against your skin from the way he's snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was trying to have you impossibly close to him.

He stayed there for a few minutes, covering your neck in kisses and love bites, answering with a “markin’ my territory” and a chuckle when you asked why he was so adamant on kissing you everywhere but where you needed it the most, his hands doing wonders as they went over your shirt to cup one of your breasts, immediately surprising you both my the loud moan that left you.

“I-”

“Christ, lovie. That fuckin’ sensitive? Barely even touched you and you’re moaning like that?” He huffed out in amusement, leaning upwards in hopes of laying his eyes on the mess he’d left across your skin only to be met with darkness, grunting as he raised a hand to run over the marks, feeling the indents from his teeth around your neck.

“It’s- It’s been a while, Si-” You mumbled out of embarrassment, thankful for the darkness since it was the only thing keeping you from fully breaking down from the shame of being so sensitive after a single touch, but you couldn’t really be blamed.

It’d been almost a year and a half since you’d last indulged in any type of self-pleasure, the last time ironically being the night you’d spent with Simon before his mission, it was no wonder a simple brush of his warm hand to your breast had you writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat, you basically were.

“Hm…” He grunted, leaning down to press some kisses along your flushed cheeks, still purposefully avoiding your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought of what to do next. “...I want to see you.”

What?

“Properly.”

You felt his lips brush against yours slightly, knowing full well how titillating he was being.

“Wh-”

“Turn the light on.”

You froze.

You were staring up at the darkness of your ceiling, letting out soft breathless sounds as he leaned back down to continue kissing your neck, letting the words he’d just spoken sink in, letting out a chuckle against your ear after a minute or so passed.

“Go.”

You acted on instinct only, stretching your body over to the lamp on your bedside table with the little space he had given you, the man still insisting on having his hands all over your body, your mind and thoughts reeling.

It would’ve been different if he had his mask on, the small request would have been just for him to see the marks he’d left on you, to continue whatever you’d started in the light so you’d both be able to see your body’s reactions properly, but this was oh so much more than that.

He didn’t seem to want to make a move to go get his mask or to cover his face, he was actually telling you to turn on the light so you could see him, see his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, Simon

As soon as your shaking hand found the switch and had pressed it, your eyes closed in time for the room to be filled with light, a nervous sound leaving your lips as Simon pulled you back into place, his calloused fingers running over the length of your nose before poking at the middle of your furrowed brows.

“Y’can open them.” He whispered, his own voice sounding slightly terrified. “Please.”

“What if you’re ugly?” You blurted out as a joke, trying to lighten the mood, immediately slapping yourself mentally the moment he didn't laugh, opening your mouth to apologise only for him to poke you again.

“Jus’ open them.”

The first thing your eyes landed on was the smile pulling at his lips, leading them from the scar that adorned the left corner of his mouth past his crooked nose and up to those beautiful eyes of his, his blond eyelashes framing them perfectly like always.

And fuck… He was beautiful.

The stubble covering the lower part of his face, the scars littering his face telling stories and tales of all his time on duty, his cracked lips and scarred nose only complementing his beauty even more.

It was everything and nothing like you’d expected, it was just… him.

You didn't know what to say, what were you supposed to? But by the way his smile grew bigger at the sight of your dumbfounded face, you were sure that your expression told him everything he needed to know.

Now, Simon knew that he wasn’t the worst looking person, but the way you were staring at him like he was a god incarnates, like Aphrodite herself had given him a piece of her beauty, it didn’t fail to tint his cheek a soft pink, quickly leaning into you to meet you in another kiss in hopes of hiding how flustered he was from you.

“Mhf-” You tried speaking as soon as you had regained consciousness through his kisses, a giggle leaving your lips as he gave you no time to speak. “You’re- Mm- S- so pretty, Si-”

Pretty? He thought to himself as he continued his kissing assault, the adjective a very foreign concept, never having been referred to in that way in his life. But, it did feel nice when you said it, the way you were looking at him with that sultry gaze as the compliment oozed out of your mouth like honey, it had him grabbing at your thighs for stability, wrapping them around his waist and letting you make contact with the product of your make-out session and cute words.

“F-fuck!” You mewled, grabbing at the back of his head for stability, tugging at the roots of his dirty blond hair, shivering underneath him as he let out a breathy groan, the sound sending pleasurable shocks down to where you both were connected, despite the amount of clothes that separated you both. “W-Wait- Hng!”

He stopped as soon as the word left your mouth, pulling back and moving his hands to hold your waist, giving you some time to regain your breath before asking.

“‘vrything okay?” He said breathlessly, looking down at your equally dishevelled state, your lips red and sore from all his kissing and body littered with all the marks he’d left, taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork and how truly fucking perfect you looked covered in his claims before going back to waiting on you.

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, breathing and heart pulse erratic, coming down from the sudden pleasure. “I- I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I want to continue- Sor-”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you, grabbing your thighs and pulling them away from their spot around his waist, pushing them together and placing them away from him, placing a comforting hand on the one that was still pressed next to his. “We don’t have to. Whatever y’want, love. ‘S been a long time, I get it.”

You nodded, sending him a small smile that he returned in an instant, leaning up to press a final kiss to his lips, thankful that he’d understood your fears so quickly.

“You’ll stay, right?” You mumbled against his lips after pulling away slightly, looking at his through half-closed eyes, his deep beautiful pools staring back at you.

“Always.”

His arms wrapped around you from behind once you situated yourself back in the bed, arms pressed tight and securely against our stomach as his thumb rubbed over the skin, a constant reminder that he was there and that you were safe like he’d promised, soft kisses being pressed against your nape from behind, a sweet contrast to the bites that now littered your front.

“‘You going to wear the mask again?” You spoke drowsily, turning your head slightly so his lips pressed against your cheek, his breath tickling your ear.

“Not unless you want me to.” He mumbled back, half-asleep.

“Rather you did… Can’t focus with that ugly mug of yours…” You teased, letting out a high pitched yell as he bit down onto the space between your neck and shoulder, immediately soothing the pain with a kiss and a chuckle.

“Only mug you’ll se ‘round here, lovie, better get used to it.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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jhkfan123 · 3 months

Text

because i liked a boy | tom blyth

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

in which: tom rushes to your house after you get threats and insults online due to speculations of a relationship between the two of you

warnings: mentions and readings of death threats, mentions of slut shaming

wc: 1.1k (sorry it's a little short!)

a/n: IT'S MY POOKIE WOOKIE DOOKIE COOKIE SHMOOPIE TOM'S BIRTHDAY! no but seriously happy birthday tom! bros birthday is approximately ONE week from mine. bro's a little aquarius like me. thank you so much for being the best tom! the age gap grows more everyday 🥰...anyway here is a little cute fic for you guys just for his bday!

in less than 24 hours they were everywhere. in your dm's, in tagged posts, on every platform.

it was only yesterday that you and tom decided to go out in public together. for the first time. and now you realized maybe it should be your last, for a while anyway.

the two of you kept a quiet relationship for about a month, up until yesterday, when you decided going out for coffee might be nice. and sure enough, there were cameras.

first fan accounts found it. then smaller celebrity news accounts found it. then e! news found it. soon variety found it. this had all happened while you were asleep. and when you woke up, it wasn't just the posts that you found. you had dm's. lots of them. each one a little worse than the one before it.

you weren't sure what to do. so you picked up your phone and dialed tom.

the phone rung for what felt like ages. then you finally heard the comforting voice you had been longing for.

"hello?" you heard. you felt a little lighter already.

"hi tom. look, i know you're not really on social media but, i just really need you to come over because i need to talk to you." you breathed heavily getting the sentence out as you now began to panic.

"i'll be there in ten minutes. love you." you heard. he hung up the phone. you sat down on the couch in your apartment. you had an urge to go on your phone, but you knew what awaited you. so you resisted.

about ten minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. right on time.

he only knocked out of politeness, he had a key to your unit. "oh, good you're here." you said. he looked at you with a warm smile.

"i came as fast as possible." he came over to the couch and pressed a kiss to your forehead. he sat down next to you and you embraced his warmth. "now, what's wrong." he said. you leaned into his lap.

"so, remember how we went out for coffee yesterday?" you asked. he nodded quickly. "so obviously there were photos which is fine and we expected that but, once people really started noticing, i started getting...threats." you handed him your phone which was now open to your instagram dm's.

"oh, no." he sighed with sadness. "i'm so sorry. do you mind if i look?" he asked. you nodded again. he took your phone from your hand and began to scroll. you saw the screen and began to read along.

user: who tf are you back tf off you slut

_user_: didn't you just break up with your other boyfriend you whore chill share him with us

user123: if you don't back off i'm going to jump you. mwah

tomblythlover: if you hurt him you die

each one got progressively worse. you saw tom's face shift with each one. he pulled you closer to him as he handed your phone back to you. you felt a single tear stream down your face, which tom immediately noticed.

"hey, hey hey." he wiped your tear with his thumb. "you didn't do anything wrong, ok? ignore every single one. you are not a slut, not a whore, not anything they claim you are. and, there is nothing you can do to stop these people. you just have to ignore it." he pulled you closer and tighter to him. "turn your dm's off. or limit them at least." he suggested. "get off social media. take a walk." he kept listing out ideas.

"you're right. i didn't even think of that, turning my dm's off." you said. you went into your settings and turned it off.

"what would you do without me." he joked, sarcastically. you hit him in his leg, the only place you could reach. you smiled up at him.

"i can't believe people would do this." you spoke. it was unbelievable. how could you say something like that to someone you don't even know?

"i can. people are crazy online. they stay stuff that they wouldn't ever say to your face. that's why i stay off of it." he responded.

"should i like, put a statement out?" you questioned. you often looked up to tom for advice about these things. he was only a year older than you, well, almost two, but he seemed much wiser. you loved the way you could look to him for anything.

"only if you want to, love." he assured you. "but if you think it will help you, then do it. do it for yourself, not for others." he continued.

"maybe i should. i will." you opened your story camera and began to type. you thought about what you wanted to say. then your mind drew a blank. "what should i say?" you asked, staring blankly at your screen.

"just say that no one is allowed to insult you just because we're dating, and that you need time to figure out what you are going to do next." he said. he thought of solutions with such ease, taking no time to think. ideas flowed like water out of his mouth. when you finished, you showed it to him, and with his approval, you added it to your story.

even though your dm's were turned off, you still hoped that people would stop attacking you in tagged posts, something that you couldn't stop no matter what.

"thank you, tom, for being here. i'd probably be lying in bed crying right now if it wasn't for you." he smiled down at you.

"i'll always put you first. i don't care what i'm doing. never be afraid to call me, even if i'm busy ok? i promise i'll help, any way i can. and please don't take anything they said to heart. you aren't any of those things, the only thing they got right is that you are my girlfriend." that made you laugh. "now, let's go do something to lift your mood." he pulled himself off the couch and soon helped you up as well. "where do you want to go?" he asked. you thought for a moment. you wanted to be somewhere quiet. with tom.

"i think just a walk around the neighborhood would be nice. no photos, no phones, just us?" you suggested.

"that's the best idea i've ever heard." he hugged you close. then he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. he grabbed his keys from the entryway table, grabbed your hand, and walked out the door.

#jhkfan123 #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tomblyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE #29 AND STILL FINE #coriolanus snow #because i liked a boy #hungergames #snow lands on top #tbosas #hunger games

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multifandomslxt · 10 months

Text

Nct 127 as fratboys Pt.1

I enjoyed this wayyyyyy too much lmaoo

Taeil

first off

baby he don't wanna be here lmaoooo

He don't even know how he got in a frat in the first place

he majors in one of three things

comp sci

finance

or accounting (Yes finance and accounting are different)

Taeil wouldn't be your typical frat boy

he's definitely turning his assignments in on time

and he is never

and I mean NEVER up for a party

but allows it to happen anyway

however, if its finals season...

He is the one who shuts the party down when the clock touches 12

"Everyone get the fuck out! You have exams in a few hours"

The father of the frat honestly

He's pretty laid back and doesn't bother anyone

Some would think that he doesn't get laid either but c'mon now

he fucks around ALOT!

Don't let him fool you

Has had a threesome multiple times

but don't tell anyone I told you that

He hates the parties but always gets 4-5 BJs at each

and guess what y'all

if you fuck him

NO ONE WILL KNOW!

he won't brag about it and he won't tell a soulllll

If his friends are eyeing someone he's been with b4

and they ask him about her

trust and believe this man won't say a word

he'll shrug and be like "Ion know"

ughhh and he pulls easily too

Usually he beats around the bush

but always makes it clear he doesn't want anything serious

all in all he's a sneaky and quiet fratboy

lol

Johnny

Yeah...

everybody knows about this bitch right here

He is a business major.

Period

do not question the facts

doesn't give too much fucks about his grades though

as long as he gets a degree after this shit

he's good.

He would be known as the irresistible heartbreaker

cuz he WILL pull you in

and then drop you after he fucks.

I'm just being honest here y'all lmaoo

He is THE life of the party

like if a party is happening and he ain't there...

it's gonna be lame asf

He and Jaehyun are notorious for making their coma-inducing

jungle juice

Surprisingly he has a good fashion sense for a frat boy

oh and he definitely comes from a rich family

so yk he's driving his car around blasting

Drake and Tyga

Smokes hella w33d btw

like I'm not even joking

his circle clean as hell though

vibes are always through the roof

He fucks every other day

and everybody knows he does

why?

because he posts about it on social media

yup.

i said it.

He would definitely tag your ass too

so if yk you don't like the inanet knowing

that your- in his words- "pum pum wetter than the ocean"

then leave this man alone

lmaoooo

overall a menace and a jerk- typical fratboy (I'm sorry I wanted him to be sweet too lol)

Taeyong

He's a nerd.

I'm sorry but Taeyong does not belong in a frat 😭 jk k

but

He 100% has his legos displayed in his room

like don't even say it's not true

His idea of a fun time is spending hours building a lego set

He's definitely a communications major

maintains a relatively good gpa

so he's ight.

And a ladies man

Oh yupp

Everyone who has his twitter sees his posts about pussy eating.

And lemme tell you something

Bitches have lined up in front of the frat to get eaten out by this man

ya hear me???

And he brags about it on the dl

would be notorious for attending 2-3 parties for the semester tho

why?

his legos.

he NEVER has a shirt on

I swearrrrrr

he also smokes w33d with Johnny sometimes

but doesn't do it often bcz it tends to fuck him up a bit too much

can't roll one to save his life lmao

in terms of fucking he only does it when he's stressed

Did a threesome with Taeil once

He's the type to stare you down from some creepy ass dark corner at a party if he finds you hot.

He's definitely not the type to just tell anyone that he ate you out or fucked you randomly

but if one of his friends were to ask him

he's telling it all and giving you a rating outta 10.

for your sake

you betta hope he don't give you anything below 6.

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scourgeofgotham · 11 months

Text

Canary and Jaybird

chapter three

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Graphic Sexual Content, Crying, Unresolved Trauma, Spitting, Degradation, Dom/Sub, Slapping, Praise! Kink, Begging, DD/LG, Breeding, Stockholm Syndrome, Reader has PTSD, Mentions of Rape

A/N: okay in AK when Jason reveals himself to Bruce, he's like “I'm hurt.” AHHHHH I'm drooling, I'm crying, I'm wet. his tone and how he talks makes me sopping wet.

It was Jason’s 16th birthday, 7 months since he was missing. It hurt her every day knowing that her Jaybird wasn't coming home. Why did he have to go after Joker alone? She was suited up as Batgirl standing on top of the Trigate bridge starting at the Asylum. This was the fifth time now.

She pondered, wondering if Jason could be locked up in Arkham. This was the night she decided to follow through and listen to her heart. She went around each wing silently, trying not to make noise. There was a wing being guarded by an Arkham officer, just as she was walking away she heard the doors open, walking out was the Joker.

Her heart started to ache, wanting her to go and check it out. There's probably nothing in there. It took her a solid 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get in there without alerting the officer. She found a vent in the very top and climbed up there and used her grapple hook to pull it off, once it was off she climbed down silently and dropped it on one of the exposed air vents. She climbed in and found an air vent opening. She looked around wondering what was in there and saw a figure tied to a chair. She surveillance the room to see if anyone else was in there and the only other person was Harley Quinn

Easy.

She dropped down behind Quinn trying to be quiet and crouched right behind her and knocked her out.

“It-It can't be you.” the voice called out.

It can't be.

She looked up at the body and saw a body wrapped in barbwire. She saw on the suit the Robin symbol. She stepped closer and saw her beloved. He was bruised, covered in blood with a horrendous ‘J’ on his cheek below his eye. “Jason.” she ran towards him wanting to kiss him. “Get. Away. From. Me.” Jason growled. “It's been months since I was captured and now you wanna rescue me?” he sounded so broken and afraid.

“Jay, I've been looking for you. I've been trying so hard to find you. Lemme get you out of here and I can help you.” she softly spoke. “Where is Bruce?” he hissed. “Does he even care?” She wanted to cry. “He's been looking too, I just thought maybe in Arkham and tonight I finally got past all the guards baby. Let me take you home.” She was the broken one, crying trying to stay calm. “I gotta get you out. The Joker is gonna come back soon and I gotta get you out.”

She tried to get the barbwire off of him but Harley started waking up, and she could hear the Joker coming back. “I'll be up in the air vent baby. I love you, I'm gonna get you out.” She kissed him, one last time. She got up to the air vent before the doors opened. The Joker walked up to Jason moving the barbwire off of him. “We’re gonna make a little video for Batman. Harley?” “I don't know what happened Mr. J! I was watching Birdbrain over there and I fell unconscious,” Harley confessed. “Do better Harley or I'm gonna replace you with Batsys pet.” The Joker hissed.

“Alright, Jason look into the camera for Daddy.”

“State your name.”

“My name is Jason Todd.”

“Who do you hate?”

“Batman”

“You know I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big bad bat?”

“His name. Tell me.”

“Of course sir, it's-”

She got a sign that he was still alive not too long ago. She saw millions of dollars being drained out of one of Bruce’s many bank accounts. One day after school she saw a Tenderheart bear, brand new with tags on it sitting on her bed. Alongside a copy of her favourite book Wuthering Heights. Inside a quote, “She burned too bright for this world.”

She immediately knew that only Jason would buy that for her.

“What do you say, Princess? You wanna thank Daddy for rescuing you from Bruce? So you can be Daddy’s little slave forever and never have to go outside again? I can bring you everything you want and need.”

Bruce?

“How do y-” “Jason was never good at keeping secrets princess.” he interrupted her. “Don’t stray away from what I asked. You wanna be Daddy’s Princess forever?”

She contemplated, knowing that Jason was probably killed. She saw him get shot and after, she still hoped he survived.

“What happened to Jason?” she asked, still wanting to know. “Okay, Nancy Drew, if you wanna ruin the moment, I'll tell you.” He spat. “Deathstroke killed him. There I said it. He's been dead for so long now that you need to stop hanging on and get over it.”

It felt like a knife was digging into her heart and twisting. “No...” her whole world shattered.

“I got a sign from him, He left me presents. I saw money being drained out of Bruce's accounts.” “Wrong. I got out every single piece of information from him before we tossed his body into the water. I got you your favourite book sweetheart. All of those love notes and flowers were from me. The money, however, Jason paid to not be killed. However, we got everything we wanted out of him.” He confessed. “Now, I've been waiting, and you don't have anyone to save you.” He hissed. He grabbed her face and let go grabbing her neck instead. “Be my rapeslut, there's nothing you can do to make me stop.” The distorted voice made it hard to hear how upset he was.

He's gone forever...

He positioned himself at her opening, “Daddy?” she said softly, causing him to stop and look at her. “Yes, Peanut?”

“Thank you for rescuing me, Daddy.” she sounded broken. “Can you kiss me?” she asked, putting her hands up to his helmet. “Let me blindfold you, Princess.” he got off of her finding something to blindfold her with. “Alright lift your head up.”

She lifted her head and saw he was wrapping a piece of cloth around her head. “Can you see me?” “No Daddy.” She lied she could see just a little bit but not clearly enough.

She heard the Knight push the button on his helmet and saw the shadow of it coming up. She giggled, “Please kiss me, Daddy.” “Of course Belle.” His voice, it was so smooth and silky. It sounded so raspy but sweet. She swear she heard his voice before. She felt his soft lips kiss hers, and she melted. She grabbed his head pulling him in by his helmet, and wouldn't him go, she kept kissing him. The two made out for what seemed like years. She was in heaven, his soft buttery lips against hers. She felt a tongue brush up against hers and moaned. She wanted him to never wear that stupid helmet around her again.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in. “Daddy.” she moaned. She pulled away “Can I please take off your mask? I wanna grab your hair. I promise I'll be good.” she begged. “I promise Daddy.”

“You want it off? Beg,” he commanded. “Please Daddy, I won't ever try to escape again. There's nothing out there for me, I don't wanna think anymore. I don't want to have to fight criminals anymore, I wanna be all yours and have you take care of me. I'll let you breed me, I'll be yours. I wanna stand alongside you and sleep in the same bed as you, I love you, Daddy. I don't even know what you look like, but you know me. You know how I wanna be touched, you know what I want to hear. Please, Daddy.” she begged, tears collecting in the blindfold.

He took off his mask, pleased at what she confessed. He tossed it on the bed next to them. He started kissing her neck leaving hickies scattered across her skin. She moaned and ran her hands up his neck feeling that he took it off. She tugged on his hair lightly, making him bite her shoulder. When she felt his teeth sink in, she gasped “More.” He took this as an invitation and moved her on her stomach, taking turns in between biting her, kissing her, and giving her hickeys. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled.

He decided he couldn't wait any longer and put his throbbing tip in her tight hole. He started sinking in, splitting her puffy swollen lips open. “Fuck” He gasped. “Daddy, it hurts.” she mumbled, “You can’t fit,” she whispered. “I'm gonna fit sweetheart, I'm gonna split you in two.” He thrusted, making her gasp. “Told you,” he mumbled. He was so big, and she hasn't had sex in years. “Fuck” she moaned, he grabbed her by her hair and lifted her against his body, and slapped her across her face. His voice was so smooth and commanding, she was drunk on his voice.

He held her against him with his arm across her throat, his other hand toying with her throbbing clit. “Look so good Belle, stuffed full,” he mumbled. She was mewling with enjoyment, he was so big, so dominant. “Love you, Daddy” she coos, her voice all of a sudden high-pitched. Her right hand holding his arm, and her left is holding his hand that's making circles with her puffy and swollen clit. She kept getting more aroused and started leaking out of her stuffed cunt. “Princess, you're making a mess.” he teased. She started whining. “I love those little sounds of yours” he gasped. She started giggling, “Daddy, feel so good.” she took her right arm and placed it behind her trying to touch him, she leaned back into him. “Kiss?” she coos. “Course,” he mumbled. Leaning into her to give her a kiss. “Change?” she said softly. “Mhmmm?” he hummed. “Want you differently” she whispered.

He left her weeping abused cunt, taking his arm off her neck and moving his arm away from her swollen clit. He shoves her on the bed making her gasp. He flips her over and lifts her legs on his shoulders shoving his throbbing member into her abused cunt. He placed his hands on her legs holding her legs up, she had her hands on his legs.

She gasped. “Daddy” Whining loudly. He pulled out, then slammed himself back in, over and over. He leaned over to her face, “Open” he commanded. She opened up her mouth and he spat in it. “Swallow baby.” She did as she was told giving a toothy, fucked out smile.

He found her secret spot making her dig her fingers into him, making him grin. “Feel good? Right here?” he teased, pushing his head against the exact spot, making her whine and squirm. He kept doing it over and over again making her pull her hand off of his leg and shoving it in her mouth to bite on to hold back her moans. She started screaming from the pleasure, thank god the blindfold is on or he would see her eyes barely being able to keep open.

He pulled her hand out and slapped her again, “Lemme hear those moans” he spat. “Don’t you dare keep those from me” he growled. He took his hand and started rubbing her swollen clit. She bit her lip wanting to keep them in. She couldn't contain it anymore once she felt like she was nearing her second orgasm. “Daddy?” she asked.

“Mhmm?”

“Cum?” she couldn't think of full sentences anymore.

“Almost Princess,” he could feel himself getting close.

“Fucked out of your mind?” he teased.

“Mhmm, thank you.” she coos.

Almost at her limit, her eyes rolling around in her head, drool coming out of her mouth a little bit. Just barely letting go of the Knight’s legs. He is almost at his limit as well, panting and groaning from her tight walls spasming. “Cum together?” She mumbled.

“Yeah, Belle.”

A minute later he reached his climax, “Okay Princess you can cum.” He said letting her tip him over the edge. He filled her walls with his cum, making sure her cunt gets every drop. “Thank you.” she coos. He pulled out of her watching as some of their fluids pour out, taking his fingers and pushing their cum back in. “Filled you up,” he said. “Have baby soon?” she whined, still cockdrunk. He chuckled. “So fucked out.” He laughed, moving up to kiss his little girl once more before the helmet went back on.

“Love you, Daddy. Thank you for taking care of me.” her soft high pitched voice confessed.

“Love you too, Belle.”

She finally accepted her fate.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #arkham knight #arkhamverse #batman arkham series #arkham knight x reader

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i23kazu · 11 months

Text

05 : I DON'T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE

MADE TO BE MINE : A SCARA X READER SMAU 🎥

there is a swirling pit of nauseating, vomit-inducing self control that settles in your stomach as you piece together the least fake smile you can muster — at least, after what ei had announced with such quiet, barely-contained excitement and a soft smile on her face.

you wanted to throw up.

scaramouche, your mentor? kuni, your mentor?

you’d rather die.

you suspected that ei had no idea the history the two of you brought, that contributed to the tension of the table, and any of the reasons why you were so skittish around her son. kun- scaramouche, you caught yourself, was probably also not the reason for this pairing. he looked just as disgruntled as you.

yae clinked her glass against ei’s, and you looked up from your text with heizou. everybody else was laughing, cheering; there felt like a thinly veiled mask of sympathy from the men, however.

i mean, who in their right mind would place their ex with themselves — willingly, too?

i don’t think this is going to go well, i’m just setting myself up for failure.

come on. you had to at least try.

if i continue with this, will it destroy any career that i have? will my face of disappointment, of hurt over our relationship, be too obvious? will i fail miss ei and miss yae? will i disappoint scara?

but why, why did his opinion matter so much to you? you hated him, you despised him; after the sourness that your relationship ended with. you wanted nothing to do with him.

“(y/n), are you alright?” heizou whispered, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand in an attempt to console you. you swallowed back the contempt.

“i’m fine.” you couldn’t look heizou in the eye. the streamer had a knack for discerning whether you were being truthful or not, and you couldn’t handle the embarrassment of yae and ei knowing that you hated their decision.

“no you’re not.”

“heizou, i’m fine.” the last word came out bitingly harsh, and you bit back a hiss. heizou recoiled, bringing his hand back onto his lap and crossing his legs. a flash of hurt briefly appeared on his face, disappearing as quickly as it came. i’m sorry, zou.

you smoothed your hair back and tried to focus on what yae was saying.. but the thought of spending time with scaramouche clouded your mind.

maybe i should quit before this gets worse for both of us.

synopsis !

with all the drama that happened ( that he caused ) and all the things you lost ( that he lost ), you promised yourself that you'd leave everything in the past... so why is the famous youtuber with two million subscribers, music major and ex lover kuni, suddenly back in your life? why is he now back, intruding into your long-anticipated campaign with RAIDENTERTAINMENT? and why is yae telling you that he’ll be doing it with you?

notes & facts !

timestamps don't matter here

yes, yn is genuinely considering leaving

scara's priv account name provides a tiny bit of context

cameos !

@naraven

taglist !

@zuyoo @soleillunne @xiaosonlybeloved @achlysis @gekkow @lxkeeeee @ilyuu @miko1ly @mondaymelon @snobwaffles @juulica @raingoesboomboom @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @coquettemaiden @sakiimeo @kyouzki @supernova25 @ynverse @thenightsflower @darthvada @danhenglovebot @nnasv @sammybeefangirls @reikofruitloops

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reblogs appreciated, especially those with tags and comments! if you liked this, feel free to leave a follow ✨

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nekoannie-chan · 6 months

Text

We can learn to love again

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 684 words.

Summary: After separating for a few years to flee the Accords, you and Steve see each other again.

Warnings: Angst, but happy ending.

A/N: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes’ Cappy’s Decade Challenge with the song ‘10s:

“Just give me a reason – P!nk”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

youtube

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

You left the glass on the table when you heard the doorbell ring. No one used to visit you apart from the neighbor, who was an old lady. Your eyes widened very wide at the sight of who was outside.

"Steve?!" You exclaimed in surprise.

It's been a long time. I'm sorry. "I need to get in," he said, as he quickly passed inside.

"How do you find me?" You asked, you couldn't believe it. You hoped it wasn't a dream.

"It was simple. Do you know what happened? "

"No, I haven't been here all day." You replied by shaking your head at the same time.

Does anyone know? He didn't dare finish the question. If there was anyone else in your life, he would just leave. He wasn't going to stop you from being happy.

If you mean, if I'm in a relationship, I'm not. What do you mean by "what happened ?" You answered quickly. However, you were more interested in knowing what happened; you didn't even hear the news.

"Thanos eliminated half of the living things."

"What? Is that possible? By the way who is Thanos?" you asked. Since you separated, you had not done a single mission. You spent the first few weeks escaping until you found that place.

"The only good thing is that somehow you exempted us from... well, you know, what happened."

"Are we free? Do we no longer have to hide? "

"We are free. We can go home. "

"To our house?"

"Yes, well, if you want..."

"I have to pack my bags and you will carry them. And I will also let my neighbor know; she is very kind to me and I don't want her to worry. "

The entire journey back was deafeningly quiet. It had been two years since the last time you saw each other. You had to separate because of what happened in the Civil War. You knew it was very dangerous to be together, especially as fugitives. In addition to discovering that your neighbor had been one of the victims of the Snap, you chose to also take your pets. You would never allow anything to happen to them. You would take care of them as she had taken care of you.

However, what you did not know is that Steve was always taking care of you, even if it was from afar. He was not going to allow anything bad to happen to you, coupled with the fact that he was aware of the danger you were in if someone came to see them together, and he was not willing to take you to the raft because of him.

Your farewell had not been the most romantic; you had implicitly made a promise that you would be back together when you could when conditions were favourable.

You didn't know how to ask him if he had decided to go on and rebuild his life. You didn't even know what happened to the others.

When you arrived, you stood on the sidewalk. You didn't dare enter. You didn't know what you were going to find in there... maybe Steve... maybe there was someone else.

"Are you okay?" "Steve asked you with concern."

"I don't know. Should I come in? Is there anything else you should tell me? " You inquired cautiously. Steve watched you and then understood what you meant.

Let's go in. "There's nothing else, other than to tell you that I love you and I want us to make up for all the time we've lost, all that time we couldn't be together," he replied, holding your hand to guide you to the entrance of what had been his house.

Everything was the same as you had left it when you had to flee. I didn't even know how it had been preserved in that way during all that time. Several times, you wondered what your lives would be like if the Accords had never existed. You sighed. Maybe Steve was right, and you could get back everything you lost.

"Steve, I missed you."

#cappysdecadeschallenge #Steve rogers x reader #Youtube

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Yoongi: 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 (1) 🔞

In which everything he always wanted has already been there from the start. He just needs to make that final step.

Tags/Warnings: Vampire!Yoongi, Human!Reader, mentions of 'being high' (drug usage in a way), friends to lovers, blood (duh), red haired Yoongi, Listen I am Jungkook focused but I will put Vampire Yoongi on the menu and you'll better finish your plate

Additional Chapter Warnings: blood high= a rush vampires get after consuming blood, nothing graphic though, wet dream, reader is kinda innocent ngl, sexual tension, fluff

Length: short/mid

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♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He doesn't know how he got into this situation, memories fizzy and unclear. But what he does know is that he's desperate.

You're squirming underneath his hands, skin a blur, but he somehow still feels it warm and soft. Maybe you're simply so beautiful his mind can't comprehend it- Brain short-circuiting at the sight of your bare body beneath his own. He's hard, dripping with precum already, embarrassingly so- desperate.

But he can't seem to push himself inside.

He's rather opting to rub his painfully hard length over your soft stomach, needy for friction as he gasps out your name under his breath. You're begging for him to do something, anything, and he wants to comply, hell, he wants to ram himself so deep into your cunt until the only thought left in your head is him, him, him.

But he can't.

"Yoongi.." you call out to him, and he wants to answer, what's to move, but nothing is helping. He's caught in the moment as if hands are holding him hostage. He wants to make love to you, fuck you stupid, something in between or both at once- but there's no control over his body present. "Yoongi.!" You say again, more urgently, and he almost sobs to himself because what is happening?

"Yoongi!"

His eyes open, and the first thing he notices is how sweaty he is, heart pounding in his chest. "Thank God you woke up, I was worried." You tell him, sitting on the floor in front of the couch he's been napping on, hands on his shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?" You wonder, and at that he swallows, eagerly getting into a sitting position with the blanket thankfully covering his still throbbing length.

"Yeah, something like that."

You're currently living with him while your apartment is being renovated- a broken gas pipe having almost hospitalized you a week prior. It had freaked him out to the core, a new fear unlocked it seems as he feels uneasy even considering you moving back into your place.

What if they don't fix it properly? What if you go to sleep and never wake up? What if it breaks again?

"I just wanted to tell you I'll be grocery shopping now." You say, getting up to walk towards the front door, slipping into your boots. "Do you need anything?"

"No." He shakes his head. "You can take my card- it's in my wallet." He tells you, running a hand through his hair.

"No, it's fine!" You smile, zipping up your jacket. "Take it as a thank you for your hospitality." You grin, before you open the door. "I'll be back soon!" You call out, before the door closes.

And he waits.

He watches the small clockwork of his wristwatch count the seconds, one round, then another, then another.

"Fuck it." He scoffs to himself, getting up to walk into the bathroom. A cold shower won't help him, granted, he doesn't want one either. He thought living with you would be easy- you're low-maintenance, never complain, you eat almost everything, you're quiet and you work most of the day anyway.

But fuck. He did not take into account how oblivious you are.

From your shorts to wearing sports bras as acceptable tops around the house, you're seriously making his life hell on earth. It's been a week, and he's already almost ran into you half naked- bare back and glimpse of the side of your chest still clear as day in his memories. He's found your panties shamelessly thrown into the hamper with his own clothes, one pair clearly stained with clear and still glistening arousal yesterday- and he blames today's dream on that.

He wonders what had gotten you to the point of ruining your underwear like that.

As he steps into the shower, he likes to believe that it was him, yesterday when you were cooking together. He'd stood behind you, had helped you cut some vegetables with his hands over yours, looking over your shoulder. Maybe you liked how domestic it was? Maybe you were having thoughts about being bent over the kitchen counter, just like the idea is spreading into his mind right now?

Or maybe it was when you were sitting on the couch together, watching some random movie because the wifi had died, leaving you with nothing but cable TV. Thinking about it, he really could've just slipped his hands underneath your shirt. He'd seen your nipples through the soft fabric, all perked up, proving your lack of underwear.

Maybe if he had made his move yesterday he wouldn't be standing in the shower right now, one arm against the wall while the other desperately strokes his cock.

He shouldn't be doing this.

It feels awfully wrong to think about you during such a thing, and yet, he can't get himself to really stop it until he actually finishes, cum getting washed down the drain together with all of the emotions clouding his better judgement. He knows this isn't right. He needs to do something about it.

But you're so sweet- how can he know that you won't say yes to him just because you don't want to hurt his feelings?

When you return back from getting groceries, you're painfully oblivious to anything being out of the ordinary. You don't question why he showered, you don't ask if anything is wrong- you simply start cooking, before you sing quietly to yourself, swaying on the spot. "Ah, Yoongi!" You suddenly say turning around towards him. "I know what I want for my birthday now!" You say, and he raises his eyebrow.

"Your birthday was four weeks ago." He comments, and you nod.

"And you said I can have whatever I want once I figured it out!" You remind him, his exact words being exactly those. You'd struggled to tell him what he could give you as a present- and so he'd given you nothing but a promise.

"What is it then?" He wonders, hoping it might be something silly like a kiss.

"I wanna go on a trip with you!" You chirp, and he's confused. "A camping trip! You say you like those too, so I wanna go on one with you." You explain, turning around to stir what's in the pot. "Doesn't have to be now, or tomorrow- I just wanna. You know. Spend time with you.." you mumble the last past, not sparing him a glance.

And maybe that's his sign.

The only way to be sure is to wait if you reach out to him first. It's the only solution to this problem there is. And maybe, just maybe, you're holding out your hand right now for him to potentially grab onto.

"Alright, let's do it then." He nods, and you turn with bright eyes and an excited smile.

"Oh, thank you! When do you think we could go?" You ask him innocently enough, tilting your head to the side. He's seen that look on your face so many times by now, and it's still dangerous.

So Yoongi smiles a little mischievously.

"When's the earliest you can get time off of work?"

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #vampire yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi imagine

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!

For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

Graceland, Christmas 1960

The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.

You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.

You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.

The thought brings you to tears again.

You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.

So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.

And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.

The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.

Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.

Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.

Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.

God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.

You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.

Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.

Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.

You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.

Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.

He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.

You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.

And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.

Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.

But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.

Yes, that’s all it is.

You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.

His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.

Oh, god.

Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.

Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.

Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.

As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.

You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.

These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.

And that makes you gasp and pull away.

That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.

Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.

Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.

You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.

Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.

Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.

And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.

Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.

Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.

You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.

Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.

The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.

Easier said than done.

And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.

You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.

But I have to.

You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.

Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.

The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.

But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.

Shut up.

By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.

The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.

Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.

The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.

Sandy.

Goddammit.

As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.

You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.

He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.

As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.

You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.

“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.

The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.

“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.

You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.

“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.

“Excuse me?” you huff.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.

“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.

“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.

Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.

“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.

You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.

“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.

“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.

Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.

You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.

Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.

“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.

“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.

“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.

“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.

His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.

Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.

“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.

“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.

Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.

It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.

Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.

“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.

His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.

“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.

The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”

Oh, sweet lord…

“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.

The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.

But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.

Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.

You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.

“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.

His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.

“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

Holy shit.

A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.

“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.

Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.

All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.

Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.

Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.

When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.

Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.

True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.

You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.

“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.

His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”

You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.

“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”

Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.

“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.

The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.

You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.

You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.

“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.

You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.

You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.

You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.

He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.

He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.

Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.

The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.

Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.

And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.

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airbendertendou · 8 months

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tsukasa is sick of you n bodyguard!fujio

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

after a week of fujio walking you home, you began to feel bad. you felt like you were taking his time ; making him do something unnecessary and out of the way just because you were a little scared.

"i can hear your thoughts." tsukasa speaks as he reads a magazine. he glances up at you, a smirk on his lips at your frustrated frown. "thinking of how to confess to your prince charming?"

you stop what you're doing, turning to completely face the boy. "just what are you talking about?"

"you and fujio." he says it so simply, so easily. you stay quiet, raising your eyebrows in question. "the two of you circle around each other all the time." he folds the magazine, laying it on the desk beside him as his eyes meet yours. "there's a bet going on."

straightening up in your seat, your frown deepens. "what kind of bet?"

"the kind where—"

"[name]!" fujio bursts into the room with bloody knuckles and a grin. he holds out a tattered, sopping wet book to you. "got your book back! is that my lesson plan?"

"oh—" you grimace, holding the book between your pointer finger and thumb. you can't hurt his feelings, though, so you grit your teeth and smile. "i'm sure some time in the sun will make this all better. thank you, fujio."

he bounces where he stands, shrugging his shoulders before sitting in front of you. tsukasa hides his laughter with a snort. fujio takes the papers you were writing on previously, scanning them a little before nodding with an impressed face. "not bad, i can actually understand this."

it was a deal you made — as long as fujio was walking you to and from school, you'd help him study. tsukasa stands from his own desk, crossing his arms and leaning down to speak closer to your ear. "what do i get for walking with you, [name]?"

you look at him from the corner of your eye, "well, what do you want?"

"hey," fujio is glaring at tsukasa, "don't make me anemone."

"...an enemy?"

fujio blinks, "that's what i said."

you sigh, silencing the fight that was going to break out. grabbing your school bag, you stand. "it's getting late. ready to go home?"

——♡——

"you're hopeless."

no sooner than the door to your home closed, tsukasa was speaking. fujio ran a hand through his hair, sticking his hand in his pocket soon after. he shrugs, "no idea what you mean."

"i take it back," tsukasa crosses his arms. he peaks at his friend, "you're both hopeless."

fujio whips his head around, eyes wide. "did [name] say something?!"

tsuaksa sighs, speeding up. fujio lets out a loud hey! before quickening his pace. "tsukasa! you're being anemone again!"

——♡—— anon requested : hoho what about both u and fujio having huge crushes on each other, bugging tsukasa just to rant/gush bout how each other is (separately, of course, and w/o the other knowing), and he's just so done having to be secret keeper for two idiots 👀 how would that go, u think? (Also does the rest of oya know hehehe)

anon said : A Fujio fic please 😭 it’s so dry there are barely any

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @straysugzhpe ♥︎ @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 H&L TAGLIST : @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @strxwberrychocolate @simpforchuchu @thatpoindexterpixy @cheshirecatuniverse

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name. if youd like to b tagged / untagged, let me know! ♡

#bodyguard!fujio #HiGH&LOW #high&low x reader #high&low imagines #high & low x reader #high&low the worst #fujio au #hanaoka fujio #fujio x reader

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whumpsday · 9 months

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Annie's Prisoners

Writing Masterlist | G/t writing tag

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: g/t, whump, tiny whump, fairy whumpee, begging, rescue, captivity, wing whump, magical exhaustion, bullying

Whumpmas in July Day 21: "Please" GT July Day 21: Secret

here's the last of the GT July "crossovers" i'm doing during WIJ! it was fun to write more tiny whump :)

"Okay, but you don't tell anyone."

Annie got down on the floor, pulling a pink plastic hamster cage out from under her bed.

Parisa could hardly believe what she was seeing. Inside the cage was what looked like a fairy, no more than four inches tall, cowering in the corner. He had wings, but they stopped abruptly about halfway through, leaving him with uneven little trapezoids.

The fairy didn't look pleased to see either of them, hiding himself as well as he could inside the plastic tube running up one wall of the cage- which wasn't very well at all, considering the tube was transparent.

Parisa knelt down on the carpet to see closer, star-struck. "What is this?"

"My fairy!" Annie boasted. "I caught him myself, he was drinking from the birdbath in the backyard! I just shot him with Calvin's Nerf gun and grabbed him while he was all dazed and stuff. Don't act surprised, it's not like you haven't insisted fairies were real since preschool."

Annie was right, Parisa had always been obsessed with fairies. Her notebooks were covered with fairy stickers, she'd spent her whole childhood playing Pixie Hollow, and she'd read book after book on faery mythology. A part of her had always believed that with so many different stories and accounts of them, fairies had to exist in some form, somewhere. Even as she got older and felt more and more that she was being silly, a small part of her always knew.

And she was right.

She would normally be jumping for joy, but... the fairy was obviously not as enamored with Annie's recollection of his capture. He teared up a little, hugging himself as he cringed as far away from them as possible, his severed wings tucked behind him.

Parisa frowned. "He looks kind of sad."

Annie waved away her concern. "He's always pouting. But I haven't even shown you the cool part. He can do magic and stuff!"

The fairy's head snapped up at that, a look of horror dawning on his face.

"But I already did a spell for you today!" Though it seemed like he was attempting to shout, his voice came out tinny and quiet, just as small as he was.

"You can do another for Rissie," Annie said firmly. "But yeah, seriously, you can't tell anyone. Can you imagine? Some government prick would totally take him away from me to experiment on him or whatever, like in the movies."

"Do your parents know?" Parisa asked.

"Oh god no. But I'm taking him to college with me in September, so I won't have to worry about that anymore." Annie sat cross-legged, picking the cage up and moving it into her lap to rest her arms on. The fairy grimaced as she began drumming her fingers absentmindedly on the lid.

"I've had him for almost two months now. I would've shown you sooner, but I wanted to wait until after graduation so you couldn't tell anyone at school. It's not like you talk to anyone besides me anyway, but can't be too careful. But Ciel can change that!"

She held the cage up triumphantly. "I knew you'd be totally helpless without me since we're going to different schools, so I wanted to make sure you were aaaaall set. He can't do like, big things, he's not a genie. But he can do little things. Like make you a little luckier for a while, stuff like that. I use it for studying, too. But I figured he could do a charisma spell on you or something, and it'd help you make new friends at your little state school!"

"I can't do another spell yet, please, I already did one! I don't have enough magic left," Ciel pleaded, looking up at Annie as his tears started to fall. "You said college isn't something that starts until autumn, there's time! It'll hurt too much if I do another now, please no more!"

Parisa's shock slowly gave way to horror as the fairy's deplorable conditions became more and more apparent. She wanted to say something, but she knew Annie would just get defensive and guilt her if she did.

"Yeah, it'd probably be more effective closer to September anyway," Parisa agreed quickly, unable to push down a feeling of hope that Ciel would like her for agreeing with him.

"Fine, whatever," Annie sighed, roughly shoving the cage back under the bed. Parisa got the feeling she was more interested in showing off than actually helping. "Then you can see him more then. He's my fairy, after all. Let's go back downstairs."

Parisa followed Annie, but didn't take her eyes off the dark space under the bed until the door was firmly shut behind them.

It was hard to go back to hanging out normally, and she couldn't keep herself from asking question after question about Ciel. Parisa really wanted to just see him again, but she knew he would hate that, so she didn't ask to.

But as Annie told story after story, it only solidified the fact that what was happening here was wrong. She was practically torturing the delicate little creature, draining him of magic to his absolute limit.

Parisa dreaded the answer, but she couldn't not ask. "What happened to his wings?"

"Don't be a baby about it, but I had to trim them after he tried to fly away one time," Annie said, like it was nothing.

"Wouldn't that hurt?" She tried to do what Annie said, to not be a baby about it, but it was getting ridiculously hard. She wanted to cry, hearing her best friend had done something like that.

"No, it was like getting a haircut, I think. Except permanent. He didn't like, scream or anything." Annie shoved her lightly on the arm. "I said don't be a baby."

"Right. Right." This was all wrong. This wasn't how discovering fairies were real was supposed to be. She had to get out of Annie's face. "I feel like I'm gonna be sick," she lied.

"Ew, go." Annie pointed upstairs. "God, you're so sensitive."

Parisa darted up to the bathroom, where she felt like she could breathe a little better. How was she supposed to live the rest of her life knowing Annie was torturing a fairy? They weren't even going to schools in the same state. She wouldn't be able to do anything to help. She might not ever get to see him again after whatever spell Annie wanted him to do.

Unless she took a peek right now.

Parisa snuck into Annie's room, hoping she wouldn't come to check on her, and carefully pulled the cage out from under the bed.

Ciel clung to the metal spout of the water bottle, like she'd interrupted him while he was drinking. He looked around wildly, relaxing a little bit when he realized Annie wasn't here. "Is she coming?" he asked, his voice so quiet Parisa could just barely hear him.

"No. I'm not supposed to be in here," she admitted. "I just wanted to see you again. And, um, check if you're alright."

"I'm not," he answered without hesitation, eyes still shining with tears. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Please, I desperately need help, Miss." He tentatively stepped forward, though his little hands shook. "Rissie, she said your name was?"

"Parisa. You're Ciel?" she asked.

"I am. Please, I can- I'll come back and do a spell for you, once I've had a chance to rest. If you would just..."

He pointed toward the window with a trembling finger. "Please?"

Oh, Parisa wanted so badly to help. "But your wings? How will you get down?"

Ciel sobbed. "I don't know. I need to be away from here, she plans to keep me imprisoned for life. She's careless, she's going to kill me and I won't even get to die outdoors!"

Parisa had to do something, even if it meant she would lose her only friend. She was probably going to lose her either way anyway, once they left in September.

She unlatched the cage, holding a hand bigger than Ciel's whole body out to him. "I'll help. You just have to trust me."

It was obvious from his face that Ciel had a strong distaste for being grasped in human hands. But with no other options, he climbed readily into Parisa's palm. "Please be gentle," he begged.

She was holding a real fairy. It was like a dream, but Parisa couldn't get caught up in that now, she had to focus on protecting him. She brought Ciel to the front pocket of her hoodie, carefully placing him inside. "Try not to make any noise or move around too much. I'll keep you safe, I promise."

Parisa could feel the fairy's little heartbeat thrumming away against her as she headed back downstairs.

"Yeah, I'm really not feeling good," she told Annie. "I think I'm just gonna go home."

"'Kay, whatever." Annie shrugged. "If you get over yourself by tomorrow, you can come watch him do a spell for me."

Annie would figure out it was her, Parisa knew. But what could she do? It wasn't like she could tell anyone she stole her fairy. And now that they'd graduated high school, she could just... never see Annie again, if she felt like it.

"Goodbye, Annie." Parisa walked out the door without another word.

She waited until she'd walked far enough away from Annie's house and she couldn't see anyone else around to stick her hand in her pocket, offering it to Ciel. "Coast is clear."

He crawled into her hand, and Parisa lifted him out. His eyes instantly went up toward the stars, and she saw him smile for the first time.

"Thank you," he breathed. "It's really over?"

"It's over. I won't let her take you back," Parisa assured him. "What do you want to do?"

"What I want...? I can't just fly off," Ciel lamented. "I'm not sure yet. I- I sort of just want to rest now. She keeps me so tired all the time."

"You can rest. Do you wanna go back in my pocket?" Parisa asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I think I do."

Parisa softly set him back down inside, both of them feeling freer than they'd ever been as she walked them home.

tune in monday for some alien whump! 👽 and the following thursday for some kane & jim

this is ciel's cage btw. never put a living creature in this monstrosity

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

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one-shots taglist:

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@whuarri

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g/t whump taglist:

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

@reborrowing

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #whump #g/t #whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day21 #my writing #tiny whump #fae whumpee #fairy whumpee #rescue #captivity #begging #wing whump #magical exhaustion #whump writing

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