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the-californicationist · 2 days

Note

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted.

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was.

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush.

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you.

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure.

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve.

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy.

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day.

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night.

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch.

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign.

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face.

You pitied him, winking cheekily,

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action.

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it.

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought.

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it.

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds.

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have.

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you.

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own.

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution.

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge,

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment.

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance,

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock.

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh.

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further.

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss.

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure.

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center.

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot.

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you.

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly.

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again.

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together.

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks,

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy.

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull.

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize.

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white.

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone,

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup.

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be.

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual.

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples,

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more.

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall.

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good.

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #john price smut #captain price mw2 #oh captain my captain

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kingkatsuki · 2 days

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My friend showed me this video from L&DS and now I’m quite insane, delirious, unwell imagining it with old man Bakugou😫

Thinking about retired Pro-Hero Dynamight, who just wants a quiet drink in his local old man pub. Sitting at the bar as he nurses his whiskey, neat.

Any and all chances of peace swiftly snatched from his clutches when a rowdy hen party enters, unable to get into one of the main bars and clubs along the high street. Groaning into his glass when the bride orders a round of shots, definitely readying himself to leave early.

Until you catch his eye— a bright pink “maid of honour” sash wrapped around your frame as you wear a hideous pink tiara on your head, a flushed glow to your cheeks from the liquor already flowing through your veins from long before you found this quaint pub. Giving him a small smile when you notice him staring, and following your friend group to your table.

Bakugou surprises himself when he orders himself another drink, staying in this loud chaos when he’d probably be better off drinking at home. Continuing to observe you from afar. You’re definitely too young for him, too cute and pretty, and definitely not interested in an old man like him— but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the view.

Until you pass him on your way back from the bathroom, sliding into the barstool beside him as you twist your body to face him. The same smile on your face as he leans back slightly to meet your gaze, “You lost, sweetheart?”

“Hi to you too,” You laugh, light and airy. It has Bakugou’s heart racing as it seems to flow directly into his bloodstream, “Drinking alone on a Saturday night isn’t fun.”

Bakugou motions to the barman to bring him another whiskey, turning to face you to ask what you want to drink. And it’s cute the way you seem genuinely thankful that he’s buying you a drink, not like most that’ll hit up every man in the bar.

“You can come and join us if you want,” You grin, picking up the drink to cheers against his whiskey glass (a glass that he doesn’t bother to cheers back— just leaves it sat on top of the bar) “No fun drinking alone.”

“Not sure I’ll fit in,” It’s the first smile you manage to get from him the entire night, “And I ain’t a stripper.”

“Well, you could be,” You laugh, “You’re hot.”

And Bakugou feels his cock buck at your admission, a rush of blood surging directly between his thighs as he adjusts himself on top of the stool.

“C‘mon,” You push, “You can’t sit alone all night, that’s so boring.”

“Ya don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, sipping at his drink as he tries to stop the saccharine scent of your perfume invading his senses and causing him to loose all sense of control.

“Okay, how about a game of pool?” You try, “I can’t remember the last time I went to a bar that had one!”

“Play with your friends.” You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a statement as you lean in closer to him, your breasts skimming the side of his arm as you pout your glossy lips.

“They don’t wanna play with me,” And Bakugou has to hide the groan that threatens to spill from his throat at the implication, “And you look like you know how to play.”

“Yeah,” He scoffs, standing up from the stool as you realise just how tall he is, “Do you?”

“I dunno,” You hum, “Maybe you need to remind me.”

There’s a certain way he picks the cue up, his scarred palms wrapping around the length of it as his forearms flex when he chalks the tip that has you rubbing your thighs together. Taking a sip of your drink to hide how you’re blatantly ogling him now, holding it out for you to take when he’s done as he grabs another for himself.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”

And of course your first shot would be awful— it’s been too long since you last played, you’re far too intoxicated to focus— and you’re not even sure it’s the alcohol.

His large form steps behind you as you feel the slightest hint of pudge in his round chest as his arms encircle you to hold the cue. Pressing your back against his chest as he moves your form on the table, keeping your arms apart and your legs spread until you feel it— unable to conceal the blatant moan that spills from your lips when you feel his semi press against the swell of your ass. And suddenly you don’t give a fuck about pool.

His stubble tickles the side of your face as he whispers “good girl” into your ear, his lips graze the shell of it before he pulls back as though nothing happened. The scent of his sweat mixed with whatever aftershave he’s wearing lingers around you as you use the length of the cue to keep yourself upright, shaking on wobbly heels as you lick your glossed lips.

And you’re certain you won’t survive as you watch him walk around the table to follow the white ball, leaning over the table as he takes aim and pots a red into the corner.

“So what do I get when I win?”

#bakugou thirst #thirst posts #Jo thirsts #idk where I was going with this honestly I’m just INSANE!!!!!

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pinkyqil · 22 hours

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salma p. x reader who's not a footballer

prompt: blind date

location: barcelona

Blind date // salma paralluelo

Salma had been getting restless teasing from her friends and fellow teammates. Especially about her lover life or when she came back from one of her horrid dates that went awful.

"So Salma how did your last date go". vicky asked her with a teasing voice.

"Ugh I don't even want to talk about it spare me please".

"Nope you don't get to butt out of telling us". Pina and patri told her along with esme and ona agreeing with there statements.

She told them how it went especially how the other girl had accidentally spill a drink on her after refusing to give her free tickets to there next game and how she basically got ditched mid date.

"So your telling me she threw her drink on you after you declined her request and left you for someone else". vicky said before bursting into laughter along with the other girl's.

"Very well figured out genius". salma throwing her head back before laughing with them.

"You basically got toyed with amiga I feel bad for you.patri told her

"Thanks for the reminder guys let's go before we have to do extra laps". She told the group of friends before jogging away.

"I feel bad now guys poor salma".vicky told the group of girls as they made there way down

"Yeah". they said in tune before making there way back.

"Salma salma". Ona called up the tall girl trying to reach her before she left.

Upon hearing her name begin called she turned around to a already tried ona.

"Yes".she said

"Are you free tonight?".ona asked her

"Yep got nothing to do but watch a film".

"How about a blind date-".before ona could finish she got a no

"No after what I told you expect me to go on another one especially a blind date?".

"Please think about it I'll send you the details I promise you she's a good one". Ona explained to a very bother salma.

Salma found herself staring at ona's messages for a ungodly amounts of time.her heart and mind kept telling her two different things. Go and just enjoy yourself or stay and avoid going on the blind date knowing whatever could happen.

She decided to go knowing she's dealt with worse slama was never the type to face her challenges but when she did, she definitely takes over.so here she was looking through her closet and looking for the perfect fit to wear knowing that she was definitely going to be late.

She dusted her outfit one last time before heading inside the mini cafe restaurant. the nervousness was gone the moment she felt the cafe peaceful atmosphere. spoting a darked haired woman at the table she mentally cursed herself out for being late.

"Hi sorry for coming in late something came up". she said before taking a sit the moment she looked at you she felt and insanely amount of butterflies in her stomach.

Forget gorgeous you we're breathtaking when her eyes meet yours.

"No worries I didn't have to wait that long".you told her.

The date went smoothly in fact amazing.you both got to know each other a lot more and surprisingly you both had a lot more in common than you thought.

finding out that night she loved going for runs midnight jogs just like you made your heart flutter especially with how flirty she got mid date making you blush hard that you we're probably different shade.

After a while you both took a walk in the beautiful city of Barcelona holding hands breeze in your face and a fresh moment for you both.

"Same time next week". she asked you

"Definitely I really enjoyed the date salma thanks for making it meaningful for me".you told her

"No thank you I was actually contemplating on coming after awful date encounters but I'm glad I did".

The next day salma woke up with butterflies her mind was just filled with thoughts about seeing you and your next date together.

but sadly those thought had been interrupted when she head for training.

First person she saw would be ona who looked over the moon to see her telling from the huge grin she had on her face.

"Soo by the smile on your face I can assume the date went well".

"It did come one let's head down and I'll tell you everything".has she grabbed ona's hand so that they could partner up for drills and she's spils the date tea.

A/n: hope you like it added a lil twit of my own I'm still taking in the 3 player prompt thing all you gotta do is send in a player prompt and location hope y'all like enjoy this fic and has always feedbacks are appreciated 💗

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heelust · 2 days

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hii i love the way you write 🥹

can I ask for what would it be like dating idol!bf sunoo, like how would he initiate dates hiding from paparazzi, would he let you go backstage after a concert etc :0

𖦹 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 as your 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !

warnings ୨୧ idol!au, mentions of food, nickname

pairings ୨୧ bf!sunoo x reader

dollie's note ୨୧ thank u anon! it made me so happy to see ur request cuz i normally dont get these ㅎㅎ i hope u like it! <3

idol!bf sunoo who would take you to dates even when you tell him it's kinda risky but he brushes it off by saying "i just wanna go out to eat with my baby"

idol!bf sunoo who will always buy you gifts from his work trips. like if he went to milano for prada fw he would definitely buy you a bag or perfume

idol!bf sunoo who is very cautious with your relationship bc still it's not public

idol!bf sunoo who really loves it when you buy matching jewelry bc he gets to wear them on cam but will never be a suspicion for fans.

idol!bf sunoo who before a concert will ask you to come backstage but if you're not able to be there, he would definitely call you and show you his stage fit and ask you to wish him luck and tells you how much he wish you were there

idol!bf sunoo who everytime he visits another country he's taking pictures around bc literally everything remind him of you. you're on his mind all day long

idol!bf sunoo who goes directly to your apartment once his practice/schedule of the day is done just to lay in bed and hug you until he fall asleep

idol!bf sunoo who on his days off will take you to his parents' house to have a good time

idol!bf sunoo who doesn't like the fact that he can't show you off on his social media and posting random pics of your dates (like a flower he saw, his drink or even your shadow when you're walking) he would post the food you make to him sometimes or maybe a photo of your birthday cake, it's not the same as posting you but doing this makes him feel better

idol!bf sunoo who 100% makes jokes about "what if our relationship gets exposed" and will laugh it off with you

idol!bf sunoo who is not the jealous type of boyfriend but still will get petty when you tell him some random guy tried to hit on you

idol!bf sunoo who if you ask him he will get you his signed album and will do unboxing with you and do the manifestation thing with you so you can get his photocards

idol!bf sunoo who doesn't enjoy having arguments with you don't matter if it is a small one, he will always try to make it up for you and he would expect you to do the same if you were the one who started the argument

in conclusion, idol! bf sunoo is a someone who loves discretion and reassurance, even though he would love it if the relationship was public he loves it even more that it is not.

2024 heelust on tumblr.

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noosayog · 2 days

Text

004 logical

✧ wc: 2.5k

✧ warnings/content: oikawa toru x reader, no gendered pronouns used but lease lmk if I missed any! sfw, angst to fluff, another breaking up making up fic, long distance relationship

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

“I don’t think this is working out.”

When Oikawa hears those words, marred by phone static, he drops the remote from his left hand and his fork from his right.

“Baby,” he says cautiously, disoriented. “It’s just a few more days.”

There’s a moment of silence. Oikawa picks up the phone and presses it to his ear.

“It’s not just that,” you say quietly. “How much longer are we going to do this – not seeing each other, missing calls, postponing flights? Even when we’re talking, we’re not fully focused on each other.”

“That’s not true,” he immediately protests.

“Yes, it is. Were you not just watching a game and eating right before this?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not fully focused on you.”

“Yes, Toru. It does.”

He has so much to say, yet none of it seems to come out. Nothing seems appropriate.

You sigh again. “Just… stay, Toru. Stay there. You don’t have to fly back to Japan for me. I know volleyball’s important for you.”

When he says nothing, you go on. “But I hate the way this makes me feel. Like I’m asking you to give up what you love to fly across the globe just to see me for a few days.”

“You’re not. I want to-”

“Toru.”

His mouth clamps shut.

“Last time you came back to Japan, you missed a last-minute practice match with that coach you’ve been wanting to work with. Last time I came to you, I spent 2 of the 4 days I was there alone because you had another last minute volleyball thing. Even when we invest the time to see each other, we’re not really… there.”

Oikawa knows; he knows.

“So let’s just… not.”

He knows, but that doesn’t mean he wants to… not.

“Just hold on a couple more days, okay?” he asks, trying his hardest not to beg and whimper. “Just a couple of days, and I’ll be back in Japan and we can talk, figure something out.”

“Toru…”

“Please, wait for me.”

“I don’t know if I have that in me anymore.”

The coldness of your words seize his chest.

Hearing nothing more from him, you sign off with finality, “Good bye, Toru.”

And the line cuts off.

–

Today is Friday, the beginning of the 3-day long exchange scrimmages with the visiting Brazilian and Chilean pro teams. Duffle bag tossed on the floor by his feet, Oikawa flops on the couch, downing the remainder of his protein shake. The bright screen of his laptop stares back at him, email confirmation of his flight change there to reprimand him, remind him.

Your Flight AE344 to Haneda International Airport for Thursday, February 8th has been canceled.

You’re booked for Flight AE267 to Haneda International Airport for Monday, February 12th! See you soon!

After you had hung up, he gave you a call back. You didn’t answer. He tried again an hour later, then 2, then 12. He had listened to the line ring, for exactly 20 seconds, 8 rings, before banishing him to your unset-up voicemail.

Shutting the laptop screen, he picks up his duffle and is out the door. After all, if he didn’t show up to the scrimmage, what would this have all been for?

–

Friday night arrives, and despite how tired he is, physically from all the exercise and mentally from all the socialization with the visiting players, you wander through his mind. He supposes this is hardly surprising, given you’ve always been his place of rest, regardless of the physical distance, sheer kilometers between the two of you.

Almost afraid to look, he checks his phone and immense disappointment and an increasingly familiar emptiness fill his chest when he sees nothing from you.

He tries your phone again. It rings, rings, and rings and there’s no reward, your voice waiting at the other end.

He showers, eats a quick dinner, and meal preps for Saturday’s scrimmage. Busying himself works momentarily, but at 9PM, his phone alarm goes off, reminding him that it’s time to call you. For the past year, his routine has been talking on the phone with you every night at 9PM. No matter where he is, at a bar with teammates, at dinner with friends, or late night practice, he always takes at least 10 minutes to talk to you.

When the two of you first established this, the agreed upon time was 10PM for him, 10AM for you. The two of you used to compete to see who could call who first. The first night, you called the exact second the clock struck 10. So the next night, Oikawa called at 9:59. Then the following night, you called at 9:58. And it went on until the two of you begrudgingly came to a truce that you’d alternate nights.

And tonight is your night.

Five minutes after 9, Oikawa knows the call isn’t coming.

–

Late Friday night – or technically early Saturday morning – Oikawa lays awake in bed wondering how the hell it all went down the way it did. It hasn’t even been a full year since the two of you started to do long-distance. And he’s still confused. He’s confused because he thought the two of you were doing the best you could be. He’s confused because he’s never even thought about the possibility of not being with you.

He twists over to lay on his side, facing his phone screen, open at your contact. His thumbs hover over your name for the nth time that night, only for him to flop back on his back, turning now to the other side, your side. It hits him then that he can’t even remember the feeling of you in that bed, the last time you kissed. If he had known that would be the last time, he would've savored it all the more. He’d burn the memory into his nerves, just so he could remember the feeling. Volleyball was all muscle memory; he never thought he’d need to commit you as well.

Before he knows it, morning arrives. He starts to get ready.

He brushes his teeth, packs his gym bag, and starts to eat breakfast.

His legs shake, knees bouncing up and down in a nervous tick that hasn’t shown itself since high school. His laptop screen is up again, the flight ticket once again flashing bright.

It’s a reminder. Now he knows that when it’s not reciprocal, the distance between the two of you is so much more than 18,000 kilometers and 12 hours. There’s no phone line, no facetime to shorten that distance, even if just by perception.

Then, it’s a striking thought: a realization that postponing a plane ride those few days could cost him a lifetime.

He dials your number again.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

“... Hello?”

“You picked up,” he hears himself say.

“Sorry I missed yesterday, Toru.” He knows what you’re referring to without you saying it. “And I’m sorry I hung up… like that.”

There’s a lot to say, but he can’t do it like this. So he asks, “will you wait for me to come home?”

“Toru…” your voice breaks with the syllables of his name. He hears the reluctance in your tone.

“If you want to break up, if you truly want to stop being with me,” it takes monumental effort for Oikawa to even speak of such an event. “Then say it to me in person. I have to know.”

You’re silent in response. He’s glad you aren’t refusing, saying that the flight, the cost, the time isn’t worth itt. He’s glad that you agree it’s still a worthwhile conversation to have in person. He’s glad you haven’t given up.

“Wait for me, okay? Please.”

It takes a few simple clicks and a significant chunk of his savings to do what he does next.

–

For the entirety of the flight to Haneda International, Oikawa’s knees bounce, colliding uncomfortably with the seat in front of him. Even with what little affirmation you gave him by simply picking up his call, it brings him little comfort as there’s absolutely nothing he could do for the next 28 hours but sit tight.

When the plane lands safely in Tokyo, local time of 9PM Sunday, Oikawa charms his way into getting off the plane first. He flashes a weak smile at all the people still in their seats of the plane, before rushing off with only his carry-on in tow. There’s no time to wait for a bus, so he shoves his way to the front of the taxi line, reciting your address as if it hadn’t been over 4 months since he’s been there.

Every passing moment does little to ease his nerves, exacerbated even up until the moment he arrives at your door. The seconds pass in loud silence, the hollow sound of his knocking ringing in his ears.

All the white noise fades, though, when the door opens and reveals you. No matter that your eyes are red and swollen, no matter that you’re wearing one of his old ratty Seijoh sweaters, no matter that the two of you are supposed to be breaking up.

“Toru,” you breathe. Oikawa forgets you’re supposed to sound like this, not the distorted, muffled imitation of your voice he hears through the phone too often. Yet another addition to his growing list of realizations.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but a single heave of a laughter bursts from his chest. “I told you I wanted to see you, didn’t I?”

“But… your flight wasn’t supposed to arrive until Wednesday.” You’re cautious and he hates that. He wants you to be uncaring of the emotions you show around him, to jump into his arms and forgive him. He wants it back.

“I changed my flight.”

“But volleyball…”

“That’s the thing,” he starts. “I think that’s probably one of the things I never made clear to you.”

You look at him, confused.

“Can I come in?”

It stings when you instinctively fold your arms over your chest protectively, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the ground.

“Will you let me in?” he tries again.

You look back up at him, moving to the side to let him in.

When the door clicks shut behind him, the first thing Oikawa does is wrap you up in his embrace. His arms engulf you. He forces his hold to be gentle, on the chance that you push away. You don’t, so he holds on tighter and tighter, until you squeak from the pressure. He thinks he mumbles an apology, but he’s not really sure because all he registers is your arms coming up to grab his sweater.

It’s not enough.

You let him just hold you, for how long, he doesn’t know, until you finally squeak out his name. He reluctantly pulls away and starts talking, as if he wants to get the talking part over as fast as possible so he can pull you right back in again.

“The thing I wanted to tell you,” he continues from before. “There’s no comparison – between you and volleyball, I mean.”

“Toru, you know that’s not true.”

Yes, it is,” he insists. “I’ve never seen volleyball as something that takes away from time that belongs to you. Every time you come to see me, or I go to see you, or when I push a flight, I’ve always seen that as just a… postponement of our time together, never that it would take away from it.”

“Toru…” you push further away.

“But, I think I get it now. I get that phone calls, video calls, text messages can’t be a substitute. I know because I almost forgot how your voice sounds outside of a phone and because I can’t accept us breaking up through a screen. And even more so because I can’t live off of the memory of how you feel.”

When your gaze softens, he knows he got it right. It only took all this time for him to understand what you meant when you said things weren’t working; it was never about a postponed flight.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get it.”

Your palm comes up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes a wet spot on his cheek. “Oh, Toru. I would never make you compare, I thought you knew that.”

“I know,” he says. I know. And he does.

“Sometimes, I just need to know you miss me as much as I miss you. I know you love volleyball,”

“I love you,” he interrupts.

“I know you love volleyball,” you continue. “And I would never want you to feel like you had to give any of it up for me. I just need to know that you feel what I feel too.”

His hands at your waist squeeze, like he’s reassuring you that he does.

“I know that you won’t be playing in Argentina forever. I was prepared to deal with long-distance for as long as it takes for you to be ready to come home. But-”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t need you to say it.

“No, let me say this. But, sometimes it felt like you were settling for how we were. Then… when you postponed the flight, I guess I was just bummed because I was so excited to see you. But you acted like it wasn’t a big deal.”

Yeah, he did, didn’t he.

“It felt like you would be just fine substituting me for the sport.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

There’s so much to explain and he’s afraid it would take too long. He needs to tell you that’s not how he feels and that it’s not true at all. And perhaps he’s become self-aware of his ability to grow numb to things like homesickness and he tried to apply that to you too so that he wouldn’t be crippled by the sheer magnitude of how much he truly missed – misses – you. And how appalled he was when he realized he was associating you with memories and nostalgia, as if you were a had-been and not a still-is.

But you seem to understand because your hands are still gentle on his face and your gaze is affectionate.

“Stop crying, you baby.”

“I’m not crying!” he denies.

“If you don’t stop crying, I won’t kiss you,” you tease.

He clams up, biting on his lips to stop the hiccups. His eyes roll upwards to the ceiling, willing any tears to stop overflowing.

You laugh lightly at the sight, voice still clearly weak from your crying marathon.

He has a lot to apologize for, doesn’t he.

You lean upwards for a kiss. It catches him off guard to this day, how much you can express in your gentle affection. It’s another thing he can’t feel through a screen.

With each kiss you press on his lips, he counts the things he has to apologize for, but more importantly he counts the things he needs to tell you he misses and loves about you when he inevitably puts the 18,000 kilometers between the two of you again.

And he’ll do it. Every day. Until the day he finally comes home.

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dreamandback · 2 days

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LET'S LISTEN TO THE STARS (na jaemin)

THE UNIVERSE IS OURS, BUT YOU'RE MY FAVORITE PART

synopsis: jaemin was an adorable drunk, forgetting the faces of those around him as he talked fondly of them. even in his inebriated state, he found familiarity in you. maybe that's why he followed you to the roof.

genre: fluff, established relationship, non idol!au, college!au

warnings: jaemin x gn!reader, jaemin is drunk, star gazing, jaem talks fondly of reader to reader, house party at chenle's, mentions alcohol obvi, talks of marriage and proposal, maybe typos idk

word count: 884

author's note: this is purely self-indulgent. enjoy! comments and reblogs are heavily appreciated and encouraged!

the party in chenle's house was reaching its peak as the bass of some random song thumped underneath the floor. jaemin was too far gone, barely recognizing the faces of his friends around him as he slammed back another shot. from the corner of his eye, jaemin saw you sneak upstairs. there was something alarmingly familiar about you, the pull of your eyes on the deepest parts of his mind.

he wasn't entirely sure if you had met his eyes, he wasn't completely certain he had seen you motion for him to follow you. his head felt like it was swimming, the buzz of whatever alcohol he downed throughout the night filling his veins. stumbling to his feet, jaemin clumsily made his way after you.

he caught the end of your shirt disappearing around a corner and found himself following you into the guest room. it was like second nature, following after you. it was like he never let you stray too far without him. he could see your beat-up sneakers through the open window as he approached it, the cool air nearly bringing him out of his drunken state. the sight of him poking his head out, hair as black as the night, was almost comedic. you watched him struggle to climb onto the roof with you, as he dazedly plopped beside you.

he turned to you once he was settled, eyes dreamy and distant like you were a faraway memory. he smiled at you, one that was blurred around the edges as his gaze darted from the softness of your own to the gentleness of your smile. “you look like someone i know.” jaemin mumbled, closing his eyes serenely when the night breeze brushed against his heated skin. “maybe that’s why i followed you up here.” he hummed in a thoughtless murmur. you chuckled then, barely an amused breath out your nose.

“and who do i remind you of?” you asked him, entertaining his musing. he opened his eyes to scan your face, taking in the depths of your eyes in the night, the way your smile seemed to bend the light around it, the way your hair fell in familiar curtains. “you look like the love of my life,” he spoke softly, the sincerity of his words felt like a punch to the chest. he said it so genuinely full of love, that it made your heart ache. steadying yourself with a breath, you asked, “the love of your life?” he nodded.

“tell me about them.” you said. and he did.

he started with how your eyes shone in the morning, opening for the first time only to land on his. the way you’d laugh at his bedhead, only to make it worse. the way you’d push his face away when he tried to kiss you, claiming he had wicked morning breath. he spoke about how pretty you looked, wearing one of his shirts, buried in his blankets, smelling like home. he told you about how content he felt when you rambled on about your hobbies and interests, his mind set on spending the rest of his life with you.

he told you about how cute you looked, dancing in the kitchen with him as he cooked late-night ramen for the both of you. he told you about how the dim lights above the stove somehow looked magical when you were there with him. he told you that he fell in love with you a little more every day. he told you how he couldn’t wait for the rest of forever, and that he was even planning on picking out a ring soon.

he spoke about all the little things that made you, well, you, about all the things you didn’t think anyone would ever notice. he spoke about the things about you that you never thought anyone would ever care about. he compared your smile to that of shining diamonds, your eyes to the stars twinkling above him every night. how he couldn’t hear that one song or see that one shade without thinking about you.

he told you how he couldn’t sleep at night anymore, not without the sound of your heartbeat and the rhythm of your breathing. he told you how every time you kissed him, he felt like he was breathed back to life. the whole time he talked, and it honestly felt like hours, you watched him. he looked like he was talking about the greatest thing in the world, and you were starting to believe that was what he thought of you.

he sang your praises to the sky above and the stars dwelling within it, the party long forgotten, and the drunken haze lifting. at the end of the night, when you were helping him into your car, he pressed a cheeky kiss to your cheek. when you stared at him surprised, he let out a boisterous laugh. “i knew it was you, eventually.” he giggled, hand cupping your face. once you rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat, jaemin turned to you, an impish smile pulling at his lips.

“what would you say if i proposed?” he questioned sweetly, cackling merrily when you punched his arm. that night, if you listened closely, you would’ve heard the stars laughing along with him.

dreamandback 2024. do not rewrite, repost, modify, or translate.

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ellie-24 · 1 day

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USS Randall Ramblers Part 6

This is a birthday present for one of the coolest people I know @whositmcwhatsit . She had a wonderful birthday present for me earlier this month and then cleverly reminded me that her birthday is coming up as well. Wink wink nudge nudge say no more.

I ain't much but it's honest work and I hope you enjoy it.

Also thanks to @thatbanditqueen for beta-ing and helping me transform this into proper English!!

And thanks to the wonderful writing support group @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @lookingforrainbows @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime

Word count: ~7.4 k

Warnings: smut so 18+. MDNI

Previous Part

Bad Nauheim, December 24th 1958

It all just felt like a dream. A surreal dream.

Mary was only supposed to come over and visit him in Bad Nauheim for his 'Welcome back' party after his maneuvers in Grafenwöhr.

She was supposed to be back in Frankfurt to celebrate Christmas with her family.

She was supposed to sleep in her own bed in her own room at Hotel Grunewald.

Now, after a very long, nerve-racking phone call involving her, her father, her mother, Vernon Presley and of course Elvis himself the previous day, she found herself staying until Boxing Day.

And even though she wanted to obey the rules her parents had laid down before she went, she somehow found herself sneaking into his bed after dark every night.

There was no denying that being the centre of his attention had to be one of the greatest feelings in the world. Who was she to say no to him when he'd give her those puppy eyes, which he knew made her knees weak every time, and ask her to spend Christmas with him? Or to spend the night in his room, in his bed?

But for now, she wouldn't want it any other way. And although it was wrong, something about the way he'd pull her close to him in his sleep just felt right. Consequences didn't matter when she could feel his pillowy lips press against her forehead while she was drifting off to sleep.

She could just live this dream forever.

With an irritated sigh Mary raised her arms to shield her eyes from the horribly bright light suddenly shining right into her face, disrupting her peaceful slumber.

When this didn't have the desired effect she began to blindly wave around, in an attempt to slap away the flashing sensation. Her hand promptly hit something cool and hard with a dull thud and she let out a small gasp at the stinging pain in her wrist.

"Careful, Cherry, you're gonna break it."

"Huh? Elvis, I was asleep." She mumbled with a frown while rubbing her aching wrist.

"You're awake now honey, that's perfect." He held out a flashlight to her. The very one he'd held right into her face before. "Do me the honor, please."

"What?" She muttered, pressing her hand against her forehead, trying to make sense of his words. Her eyes fluttered closed again.

He shuffled closer, making the mattress bounce up and down for a second. "I wanna show you something, come on." He insisted and started tugging at her wrist before handing her the flashlight.

"What?" Mary repeated while squinting her eyes at him, still feeling disoriented.

He snorted. "You're asking an awful lotta questions honey, just trust me."

Mary reached out and grasped his arm, slightly pulling him towards her again, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle up against his chest again.

"It can't wait till morning?" She asked with a hopeful tone and tried to stifle another yawn. Unsuccessfully. The thought of leaving his cozy and most importantly, warm bed already made her shiver.

As if on cue, damn his psychic abilities, he pulled the blanket off of her. "Come on, Cherry, don't be no party pooper." He insisted with a small grin.

"I don't see a party." Mary grumbled, goose bumps all over her body as she got up, the flashlight still in her hand. "Okay, you won." She offered, playfully swatting at his chest.

Swiftly dodging her attack he wrapped his arms around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "Thanks baby, now come, won't regret it."

It was one of those situations where she was asking herself how she ended up here. Sneaking through the dark corridors of the hotel at four in the morning for who knows what reason.

Well, actually she knew exactly how she ended up here. Being with Elvis always involved some kind of nocturnal activities. He didn't sleep much, that much she'd gathered in the time she's spent with him already. And he didn't like being alone.

He still had his arms around her as he guided her down the first flight of stairs. Suddenly, he let out a snort and stopped at a random guest's door. "Watch this." He raised his hand to knock, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Elvis, don't you dare!" Mary hissed and glared at him, once again remembering the talk she had with with had with Otto, the hotelier, regarding Elvis and his friends’ behaviour. Especially Red and Lamar who, in their free time while Elvis was at the base, had nothing better to do than test his patience with one childish prank after another. More than once Otto had considered kicking out the entire entourage. And to be honest she didn't blame him.

"What exactly did you want to show me?" She asked quickly to keep him from really knocking at that damn door.

He lowered his hand and nudged her forward with a smirk, down the next flight of stairs. "Otto has told me all about the ghosts haunting this place, honey, it's some scary stuff, I'll tell ya. There's the one about that young woman falling off the balcony a hundred years or so ago. Apparently her name was Mary and she also happened to be the prettiest girl in town, just like you, honey."

"Not funny!" She didn't want to sound scared, but those creaky old stairs and the flashlight in her hand, though very bright, being the only source of light made her feel like she was in a Hitchcock movie.

"Not to mention the Christmas spirits." He continued.

Mary stopped and raised an eyebrow, facing him. "You really think I'm gonna believe you? Sorry Elvis, I don't believe in ghost stories."

"Careful honey, starting to sound like ol' Scrooge."

"And you're sounding silly. Why are you ruining the holiday with ghosts? I've always loved Christmas. Look-" She gestured outside the large window next to the stair landing, looking at the snow covered street at the old light pole adorned with milky white Christmas lights. "It's so pretty."

It was peaceful, silent for a while as she simply watched the snow fall, it was hypnotising. Silent Night.

"Boo!" Elvis' hands wrapped around her waist from behind, scaring her.

Mary let out a soft shriek and felt the flashlight slipping from her grasp. Knowing what was about to happen but unable to do anything about it with her bad reflexes, a small curse just left her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, awaiting the inevitable bang. When the flashlight collided with the carpeted floor, a dull thud echoed through the hallway. It gave out, shrouding them in complete darkness.

For a few seconds neither one dared to move, both frozen and awaiting someone coming down the stairs and scolding them like they were two kids sneaking out of bed to steal some candy. After a few seconds of undisturbed silence they agreed with a mutual sigh of relief that the noise apparently didn't rouse anyone from sleep.

"Great, E!" She finally whispered with a small breathless laugh, a hand over her rapidly rising and falling chest, her eyes only slowly adjusting to the darkness. She stretched out her arms, not wanting to run into the wall on accident as he bent down next to her.

"Cherry, did ya have to throw the damn thing away?" He chuckled, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice while he was looking for the now broken flashlight.

"Did you have to scare me?" She shot back with a snort. "Can you find it?" She asked after a while of him crouching on the floor.

The only answer she got was a low hum.

"What is it?" She inquired when she suddenly felt his feather light touch on her exposed calfs, making her gasp. "Elvis?" She asked, an edge to her voice.

Elvis didn't respond - instead he slowly lifted the soft, white fabric of her knee-length nightdress and threw it over his head in a swift motion.

"Elvis!" She nearly squealed, scandalised, before looking around frantically and pressing herself against the wall behind her, kind of hoping to just melt into it.

"Hmm?" He hummed, his nose brushing almost carefully against her thigh.

"Oh god, what are you-" A quiet moan escaped her when his hands ran over the back of her thighs, inching higher and higher until they rested right beneath her butt.

"Someone's wearing no panties. Naughty."

"Well I didn't expect-" Mary let out a little cry when he pressed a small kiss to her inner thigh, her toes curling against the carpeted floor.

"Gotta be quiet, otherwise everyone will hear ya." He mumbled, his hot breath fanning over her bare skin.

"E, that tickles!" She whispered, trying her best to sound stern.

"Just want a little taste of my sweet Cherrypie." There was this pleading tone in his voice that would just transform her into a puddle. Mary actually thought her legs would give out as he lightly nibbled at her soft skin, his big hands now fully sprawled over her butt, pressing her closer to his face.

"But, you can't-" She breathed as her back arched against him. Treacherous body.

"Can't show my favourite girl how much I'm smitten with her? And her legs? And her-" Mary's hand shot up to muffle the shriek escaping her when his lips brushed over her mound.

"Oh god! Not here!" She argued weakly, her voice as shaky as her legs.

Mary's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she saw his head appeared from under her nightgown. He grinned up at her. "I won't tell if you won't, honey." He drawled nonchalantly.

A huff escaped her - frustrated and excited at the same time. She was at such a disadvantage with him and they both knew it. But she couldn't say she didn't enjoy the power he had over her. A word, a touch and she was at his mercy, but she trusted him. So she decided to just let herself fall into his touch.

He sensed her silent agreement and tightly gripped the back of her knee before lifting it over his shoulder, supporting her weight - and giving him easier access. Then he used both hands to slowly, agonisingly slow, push the soft cotton up her legs, only to pause and consider, his full lips pursed. She made her impatience known by pressing her calf against his strong back, urging him closer.

He clicked his tongue with another smile and shook his head before swiftly gathering the fabric and bunching it up at the center of her stomach. He looked up at her, his eyes twinkling. "Mind holding that for me, Cherry?"

She nodded mutely, then shook her head, not sure about the correct way to answer his question. Everything seemed a bit hazy as she closed her fist around the fabric.

He tapped the side of her thigh and winked at her. "Just have to look at ya, honey." His voice was just above a murmur as he took in her body for a moment, illuminated just the tiniest bit by the dim streetlight and the reflecting white snow. That concentrated look was back on his face as he rested his cheek against the side of her thigh. He did that quite often when they were close like this, like he was trying to take a mental picture.

The thought did nothing to diminish her arousal and she couldn't resist running her hand through his soft hair until it rested on the back of his head. With a wanton sigh she tried to push his head towards her, needing to feel his touch, his lips.

He obliged and leaned forward. Eyes closed in anticipation, she shuddered when his nose bumped against the soft flesh right beneath her belly button. He placed a few kisses right where the waistband of her panties would be had she worn any till his eyes found hers again. "I'm real glad you're here, Cherry. Don't know what I'd do without ya."

She nodded, his words only increasing the building pressure in her lower belly, her hips rolling in an effort to get some friction. He chuckled as he got her message. "Gotcha, no more heartfelt talk. I'm a man of action after all.” He started teasingly running his tongue over her slick folds.

"Don't stop, god, please don't stop, E." She chanted, holding onto the wall behind her, fingers dragging over some weathered paint that had begun to peel off.

"You're so wet for me." He groaned, his lips closing over her little nub. His hand roamed over her hips, over her stomach as his searing touch making her body convulse. Nerves and excitement mixed together, each little sensation and fluttery touch intensified by the notion that someone could walk in on them any second. Somewhere deep inside she was still rather scandalised, both by his sudden advances and her own lack of ability to care about it.

But all coherent thoughts were abandoned when he cupped her breast, squeezing lightly. A flick over her nipple with his thumb made her buck against him once more, her mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He suckled on her, increasing his speed, churned on by the way she was letting herself fall more and more; Literally - judging by the pressure on his shoulder where her thigh rested he had to use his hand to hold onto her hips or she'd collapse under his touch. It just took a few more strokes from his hot tongue and his strong hands squeezing her soft flesh until she came undone, stifling a loud moan that would surely give them away.

She finally sank down on the floor next to him, her chest heaving. "Elvis, please I want you." She breathed, not really recognising her own voice.

He caught her by her waist as she attempted to straddle him and carefully set her down again before shaking his head and kissing her forehead. "No, Cherrypie, not like this, not now."

"When?" She urged, her hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Soon. For now I just want you to stay as you are." Upon seeing her frown he grinned and tapped her nose. "Now, don't give me that look."

She shook her head and leaned in to press her lips against his. With a dreamy sigh she opened her mouth when she felt his tongue urgently gliding over her bottom lip. Again, he didn't allow her to take control as he explored her mouth. She could taste herself on him and couldn't help herself but smile into the kiss. Eventually he pulled away from her. "Easy, not trying to win a race here."

Mary wrapped her arms around him. "So, was that what you wanted to show me?" She whispered, still breathless, cradling his head to keep him as close as possible.

"When I was down there, I just couldn't help myself honey."

A bashful laugh escaped her at this admittedly charming way of dodging her question.

"And look what I found." He proudly held up the broken flashlight.

She threw her head back. Silly man. "So much for your supposed 'ghosts'."

He licked his lips with a grin. "Don't know 'bout you, but I sure as hell heard some moaning."

"You're impossible!" She gasped, then let out a small laugh. "But I do love you, E."

"Love you too, Cherrypie. Come on now." He got up and held out his hand. Instead of leading her back to his room he made his way down another flight of stairs until they arrived in the hotel lobby.

The large christmas tree in the corner and it's decorations cast a warm glow over the room. She tapped one of the wooden nutcrackers hanging off the tree, reminding her of her favourite ballet, while Elvis made a beeline towards the connected dining room and peered out of the window. He craned his head as if looking for something specific, his hand perched up against the glass.

It slowly dawned her that whatever he was doing right now was probably the actual reason for their little nightly excursion.

"I knew it. Of course that tramp is still here." He muttered after a while.

Mary came up to him and tried to follow his gaze. "Who?"

"It's her damn car." He gestured outside.

Oh. Dee Dee.

"Daddy's probably gonna make her leave before everyone's getting up, thinking he's real smart about it." He started pacing around while Mary just helplessly stood in the corner watching, not knowing what to do or say to him.

Elvis continued, his face contorted in anger. "First he invites her to my party the other day, now they're doing, hell, I don't wanna know what they're doing." He threw up his hands and plopped himself down on the couch with a sigh. "Next thing you know, he's gonna move her in here and I gotta pretend to be all happy about it. As if I got no other fucking problems to deal with."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you somehow."

"Man, I just don't have the time for this kinda bullshit." He ran a hand over his face. "Colonel's been going on and on about damn publicity photos in uniform, that Christmas in Berlin picture he's already planning with Hal Wallis, trying to save what's left of my career-" His breath hitched for a moment in a humorless chuckle. "-Then I gotta worry about us getting kicked outta here-" He slaps the sofa at that. "And I somehow gotta serve my country at the same time."

She sat down next to him and exhaled heavily through her mouth. Again and again she was confronted with problems that seemed way too big for her. She could understand that he felt overwhelmed and alone. But she didn't have the slightest clue what to say to him to make him feel better. Maybe it was time to make peace with the fact that the best she could probably do was just listen to him and be there for him as best as she could.

"I'm here for you, anytime you wanna talk, I'm here to listen." She reassured him and placed a hand on his chest.

"I know honey. I appreciate it." He grabbed her calves and promptly placed her feet in his lap. "Damn, like little icicles." He let out a little laugh and started rubbing them absentmindedly.

She smiled at him and wiggled her toes. "Well, I was rushed out of bed as if the world was ending."

"Sweet Cherrypie, always makin' a big fuss outta nothing." He playfully pulled on her big toe and she had to resist the reflex to kick him.

"You're-" She huffed out a laugh but remained silent with a shake of her head. It was quiet for a while until she decided to open her mouth again, her face apologetic. "Sorry about your flashlight though."

"Honey, don't worry, already made up for it." He winked and ran his hand from her ankle up her leg. "It's nice just being here with you. I wish you could be here with me all the time."

"I know." She agreed.

"You should move here."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Think about it, I hate you being so far away from me."

"Frankfurt's only an hour away, E."

"Pretty much the other side of the damn planet, honey. You're not here when I need you."

"Elvis. You know I'd love to be with you. All the time. But it's not that easy."

"Of course it is."

"I got a job, my family. My life is... in Frankfurt right now. I can't even afford my own place on a secretary's salary. A learning secretary. And who says I could find a job here?"

"You'll work for my father. He'll take you under his wing, he needs a secretary. And you can move in here, live with us."

She blinked, not entirely sure how she felt about the idea of working for him.

"Elvis, I don't know-"

"You'll move in here. And then we can always be together." He repeated, reinforced his point as if that'll just change her mind. To her own confusion she actually found herself considering it. "It'll work out, honey, you'll see." Upon seeing her hesitation he comfortingly brushed over her hair. "I just want ya close to me. I wanna take care of ya."

Mary leaned into his touch and sighed, overwhelmed at his proposal. It was madness. And working for him might effect their relationship. The one they hadn't even officially defined yet. Her understanding was that they were still dating and now he wants her to move in. Under the premise of working for his father.

Now it was her turn to run a hand over her face - in confusion. She knew she wanted to say yes. At least that's what her heart wanted. It didn't take much to convince her to leave everything behind and stay with him. Still, she tried to be rational about it. "Elvis, I'm really not sure-"

He placed his finger against her lips and shook his head while shushing her. Her eyes drifted down towards his beautifully puckered lips. "Nah, stop it, baby. At least think about it. Don't say no right away, that ain't fair."

She opened her mouth only to close it again, not sure how to put her thoughts into words. It might mess up everything now if she asked questions, but she willed herself to go through with it. "What would this mean for us?"

He leaned in closer and she nearly had trouble holding eye contact with him. "What are you talking about, honey?"

Mary raised her eyebrows and gathered her courage before trying once again. "I mean for our relationship."

He smiled, albeit looking a bit bewildered. Either he really didn't understand or he just straight up refused to. "We'd be together way more often honey, don't know what you're getting at." He shrugged with a frown. As if she started talking Chinese all of the sudden.

Mary inclined her head. "It wouldn't be weird?" A pause. "We haven't been dating for too long." She added, her voice small, almost not wanting him to hear it.

He sat up straight, setting her feet onto the ground. "Honey, I just don't understand where this talk is coming from now."

She guiltily eyed his fingers, how he was fiddling with the ring on his pinky finger. He seemed tense and agitated, his posture reminding her of a soldier standing at attention. That's the last thing she wanted right now. In an attempt to appease him she carefully explained. "I'm only saying we should think and properly talk about it before rushing to a decision that we might regret."

Suddenly he shot up from the couch and turned away from her. So much for defusing the situation. "Damn, I can't talk to you right now. Not making any goddamn sense, woman! No one's making any goddamn sense."

Mary panicked at his sudden outburst, not wanting to upset him. "Elvis, I'm sorry-"

"Nuh-uh!" He pointed his finger at her and she froze. "Need to clear my damn head." He muttered and turned, making his way back upstairs.

She slowly got up as well, successfully blinking away the tears that were burning behind her eyelids. The silence as she followed him was nearly unbearable, but she didn't dare saying another word. As he opened the door to his room, she turned the opposite direction, towards her own room.

"Now where do you think you're going?"

Mary released the door handle as if she had burnt herself and faced him, feeling caught for whatever reason. She thought it was obvious that she wasn't gonna join him now. "Uh, I thought-"

He sighed. "Cherry, just come over here damnit."

"...Okay." She whispered, utterly perplexed and at a loss for words.

However, his behaviour made sense to her when she awkwardly laid down on her back, careful to keep a safe distance and he scooted closer to her - not so close as to fully press his body against hers, but so that he could rest his hand on her stomach. As much as he apparently didn't want to deal with the confusion and worry he felt, there was something else that he undeniably hated more. Being alone with those thoughts.

Mary spent the next morning like every morning; helping Mrs. Presley in the kitchen, who insisted on cooking and cleaning despite the hotel having staff for that. She was a tough one and Mary looked up to her, talking to Minnie Mae was a source of comfort to her, their talks often trivial and relaxed. Maybe that's what she liked most about their time spent together.

This morning however there was a certain edge, a tension in the air. At first she thought she imagined it, still a bit shaken by Elvis' and her last interaction. That was until she realised it was Christmas Eve and everyone was, indeed, rushing around and being busy preparing tonight's dinner party.

The presence of Red and Lamar didn't necessarily help the uneasiness she felt. Most of the time she tried to avoid them as best as she could, trying not to let on that the two men always kind of intimidated her and she'd just rather stay off their radar. They were currently lounging at the kitchen table, the topic of discussion was, unsurprisingly, Elvis, she didn't really hear them talk about anything else. She'd listen but hardly contribute. Right now they were wondering about his dismissive attitude during breakfast this morning.

Mary dried her hands on her apron and paused for a second. She didn't even hear Elvis getting up and leaving for the base that morning. He couldn't have gotten any sleep, after all it was nearly morning when they went back to bed. Why did she feel bad? He was the one that woke her at four in the morning, god knows if he's gotten any sleep before that.

Loud shrieking and laughter on the street outside suddenly caught her attention. Thankful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts she turned her head towards the noise.

"He's back." Red announced without even looking up, pulling a thread from the tablecloth in front of him.

Indeed, he was. Outfitted in his full army uniform, Elvis got out of his white BMW and raised his hand to greet his devoted fans who were waiting - in the cold- in front of the hotel. Mary watched the scene, taking in the wonder and adoration on everyone's face as they gathered around him. The unbridled love they had for him and the enjoyment he got out of did warm her heart momentarily. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

He was like a magnet, putting everyone under a spell he didn't quite understand himself. It seemed like all the people in his life wanted him, claimed him for themselves. And she saw that he did his best to accommodate everyone, striving to fulfill everyone's needs without really considering his own. There were so many people expecting something from him, wanting something from him and she wasn't sure how he navigated all that pressure.

His outburst earlier made a lot more sense now that she saw him trying to please as many people as possible at the same time. He was taking his time, trying go give everyone his attention, shaking hands, giving hugs, signing whatever they asked him to.

When he linked arms with two pretty girls and walked them up to the front porch she told herself that she wouldn't let it bother her. He must doing something like this all the time. It was just part of who he was. She had to get used to it, whether she liked it or not.

"Oh he never takes the girls inside." Mrs. Presley exclaimed, putting down the silver spoon she was busy polishing.

"Must be feeling that Christmas spirit." Red offered.

"He's a giver ain't he." Lamar added, turning the page of his newspaper that he was pretending to read for nearly an hour now.

Mary felt her face grow hot and pursed her lips. He led the giggling girls inside, settling right in between them on the couch, where they'd sat last night. She refused to get upset about the fact that he hadn't even come over to greet her. He'd definitely seen her as he walked past her.

From the corner of her eye she saw him leaning towards the girl on his right, his fingers buried in her hair, playing with her fancy updo, while she was exitedly saying something to her friend in German.

Mary dried another plate and put it away before fully glancing at him. He shot her a pointed look before leaning in and kissing that brunette's cheek, who was now giggling uncontrollably.

She felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. And again, her thoughts went back to last night's argument. Or whatever it was. She herself wasn't a hundred percent sure what it was. All she knew now is that suddenly, in that very moment, she felt more far away from him than ever. Did he do that on purpose?

It felt similar to that day where her friend Helga showed her an article in the Bravo magazine about his supposed girlfriend, Anita Wood, he left behind in the States. Her initial reaction was shock before she told herself to get it together. He would've told her something like this, she was sure of it. She wouldn't put the tabloid's drama over his word. On the other hand he didn't tell her that Elisabeth was supposed to be at his 'Welcome back' party. But she was just a friend, right?

Again and again she was reminded that he could never truly only belong to her. He was a superstar after all. When she was alone with him she tended to forget that very important detail. She knew she had to be tolerant in that regard if she didn't want to lose him.

After a deep breath she turned back to Mrs. Presley, asking if she could help her with polishing the cutlery for tonight. It was hours later after the two girls left with signed photographs and him retreating back to his room without even looking her way that she couldn't take it anymore.

Making her way upstairs and knocking at his door strangely felt like admitting a mistake, but his silent treatment felt decidedly worse. "Elvis?"

He had changed into a white knitted cardigan and black dress pants and she stood up a bit straighter when he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking down on her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Mary eyed him carefully before clearing her throat putting on the most nonchalant tone. "How was your day?"

"Spent the day at the base decorating the company Christmas tree and singing Silent Night until eventually the last poor fella in that building got tired of it"

Apparently he had no interest discussing last night's incident, preferring to just act like it never happened.

For now she'd accept it. For now she'd come to the conclusion that she's overwhelmed him as much as he'd overwhelmed her. She figured giving it all some time would be the best course of action.

"I could never get tired of hearing you sing." She answered truthfully, looking at him through her lashes.

He gave her a quick once over before breaking into a smile. "Aw, little one, always knows what to say. Come here, missed you." He opened his arms, inviting her into his room. After giving her a quick peck on the lips he held her close to his chest.

Both relief and confusion flooded her at his unexpected response.

"You missed me?" She asked in a muffled voice, her face still buried in his sweater.

He hummed, the vibrations of his chest against her cheek. "Very much."

"You were in good company from what I saw." She stated, taking a step back.

He followed her and put his hands on her cheeks. "Aw, honey, those girls, they mean nothing. You're my bestest, favourite little girl, you know that."

Mary shrugged with a frown. "They're your fans, I guess I understand."

"You don't have to be jealous, Cherry."

"I know." She quickly answered, her tone firm.

He grinned. "The look on your sweet face says otherwise, you know that?"

"I'm not pulling a face!"

"You are! Right here-" He pecked her forehead. "And here!" Another peck to her lips.

"Okay, okay-" She chuckled, playfully pushing him away. "I got it! Jesus."

He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Keep that happy face for tonight, wanna show you off."

"You do?"

"And I want you to look extra pretty tonight." For some reason his tone made the question feel like an assignment.

Mary blinked and looked at herself in the mirror before mindlessly playing with a few strands of hair, twisting it between her fingers before gathering it at the back of her head, feeling reminded of the times she had to present something at school with hardly anything prepared. "Oh, you know, I thought I could try this updo-"

He pressed a quick kiss to her exposed neck, making her giggle. "Honey, I'm sure you got that all figured out. What are you gonna do with your face?" His fingers softly grazed over her cheekbone.

She blinked at his statement before frowning the slightest bit and dropping her hair back down. "What's wrong with my face?"

"Aw, absolutely nothing, honey, it's perfect. My little baby's pretty as a picture, yes she is." He assured her while squeezing her cheeks and making kissing sounds as his face inched closer to hers.

"Silly." She giggled before quickly glancing back at the mirror, a questioning look on her face.

"No need to pout, Cherry. We left that behind us, remember? It's just, uh, your eyes are so expressive, I just want everyone to notice them. And I happen to know how to make em' look real good." He explained with a shrug.

Mary pondered his words for a second, still feeling a bit uneasy from his sudden mood shift.

"Come on, let me do this. Gonna look so pretty."

Upon seeing his pleading face she broke into a small smile and with a nod she leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his full lips. "Alright... but please don't make me look like a clown, okay?" She joked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, before breaking into a grin. "Tempting, gotta admit that, Cherry."

As he gathered all the supplies from a small leather bag he'd retrieved from his drawer, Mary sat down on the chair, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"Okay just look ahead baby, look at me." He instructed. Before he started he lowered his head and gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, hold still now, would ya?"

Mary shakily exhaled, feeling nervous all of the sudden and nodded when he cupped her chin, his thumb softly caressing her skin. He leaned in closer, his scent completely surrounding her, making her heartbeat picked up in a second. She had to look down, feeling bashful under his intense gaze.

"Eyes on me, honey, look at me."

"Sorry." She quickly cleared her throat before focusing back on his eyes. However it didn't take very long until her gaze drifted to his full lips and she was utterly cativated by the way they hung open the slightest bit in concentration. It didn't take long for him to let out an impatient sigh. He lowered the brush and tapped her nose to get her attention. "Cherry, I need ya to look ahead for this to work."

"Okay, okay, alright, I'll do my best now." She mumbled, failing miserably at sounding determined. The fact that her face felt like it was on fire didn't really help. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the snow covered park across the hotel, yet she was convinced there were beads of sweat running down her back.

He cooed and lowered the brush. "Aw, I love it when you're all shy like this, honey. But ya got no reason to. It's just me, you know that."

"I know." Just you. Just Elvis Presley, she thought.

"Now close your eyes." He whispered softly.

Her eyes fluttered shut at his words and she nearly jumped when he carefully started applying the eyeliner on her upper lid.

"Cherryyyy, stop moving around." He gently chided her.

"I'm trying." She answered, suppressing a laugh. "It tickles."

Even though she couldn't see it, she could almost feel him smirking at her statement. Those were the same words she'd uttered the night before in a very different context, a shaking mess under his touch.

"You want me to help you keep still again?" He put a hand on her thigh and gave her a squeeze, making her gasp.

"I think I'll manage." She nearly squeaked in response.

After a few minutes that felt like hours he leaned back, finally finished, his eyes roaming over her face. "Oh, look at you, looking all pretty." He cooed and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes.

Mary blushed and inspected herself in the mirror, touching her face and blinking a few times. She raised her eyebrows and saw the finely drawn black wing. Her eyelashes fluttered, the mascara making them look impossibly long. "You're really good at this."

"Lips, honey."

She laughed when he retrieved a red lipstick from the bag. "I understand the mascara and eyeshadow but why on earth do you have this lipstick?"

"Might have sent Lamar to get it, should've seen his face."

"Oh god."

He cupped her chin again, his eyes narrowed, assessing his own work before moving closer again, making his chair creak slightly. She blushed as he reached out to apply the lipstick and had to fight yet another smile.

"Don't ya move now. I mean it, Cherry." He warned as he noticed the corners of her mouth twitching. A muffled sound escaped the back of her throat in a weak attempt to defend herself, but he quickly shushed her. "No talking either, I know that's hard for you, but I'm not done here."

Mary narrowed her eyes at his comment, but took a deep steadying breath, willing herself to do as he said while fighting a grin. It never ceased to amaze her how he could say something like this, yet remain utterly charming. It was almost scary how much he'd wrapped her around his finger.

Her expression became blank however as he actually started working on her bottom lip. It suddenly hit her how intimate the whole situation was and the tension was nearly too much for her to handle.

Mary's sudden compliance pleased him, she could tell by the way his gaze suddenly drifted from her lips towards her eyes with an almost unnoticeable quirk of his brow.

"There, cherry red lips for my sweet Cherrypie." He gently patted her cheek as he finished.

She let out a deep sigh of relief at finally being able to relax her face and breathe normally again and leaned closer to the mirror. With a tilt of her head from one side to the other she examined his work, still in disbelief that the woman in the mirror was actually her. A small smile spread across her face. "Oh wow"

He looked down at her with a satisfied smirk and promptly licked his lips when their eyes met. "Quit looking at me like that honey, or I'll make a mess of your lipstick."

With a blush she looked back at her reflection once again, appreciating how her blue eyes did look more expressive and how the bold red colour on her lips made her feel like a famous singer or actress. Someone with confidence.

"Aw, you look so beautiful. I could just eat you up." Elvis leaned in to playfully nibble at her neck.

"Thank you." She breathed, feeling her cheeks and neck get hot, as she squeezed his arm that was sprawled over her chest. They looked nice together, she thought, before he carefully tapped against her hips, urging her to get up.

"Now, baby, get changed, yeah? Put on your prettiest little dress, okay?"

When she returned to his room, still grateful that she had shamelessly over-packed her suitcase, she saw him sitting in front of the mirror, busy fixing his own hair.

Mary stepped closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, right behind him. For a while she just looked at him, admiring the way his nimble fingers gently held onto the comb in a practised grip. The way he just ran it through his shorter-than-usual hair with ease looked almost graceful and Mary couldn't resist scooting a bit closer to him until she could wrap her arms around his middle. She hoped she didn't bother him too much when she laid her chin on his shoulder. It seemed like their argument never happened.

"Anything you want, honey?" He asked eventually, a small gleam in his eyes.

"Why are your eyelashes longer than mine? It's not fair." She sighed, her fingers lightly dancing over his arms.

"They come in real handy, I'll tell ya. Making aaaall the pretty girls swoon." He drawled before reaching behind to lightly pinch her waist with a wink.

Mary giggled and leaned forward to press her her burning cheek against his cooler one. "They are swoonworthy." She agreed and continued studying his face in silent awe, once again marvelling at how utterly perfect he was. It was infuriating.

He smirked at her through the mirror when he felt her breasts pressing into his back. She felt him shift slightly. "Trying to start something, little one?"

His sultry voice sent delicious tingles through her entire body and she smiled briefly before shaking her head. "I love you." Her tone was gentle as she rubbed her hands over his dress shirt, slowly caressing his belly.

Her whisper made him coo and he slightly turned his body to face her. "I love you too, sweetheart. So much. See? We're made for each other, Cherry." He softly nuzzled her nose with his. "That's why ya should stay here. With me. It's easy like that."

Her mind involuntarily drifted to Elisabeth. And Anita. "It's not as easy as that." She answered, withdrawing just the tiniest bit, trying not to look remorseful.

He quickly shook his head. "No, no, no, just a second ago ya were being so sweet and now this again. Don't ruin it now."

"I'm just being honest." She shrugged.

"Me too." He insisted, pulling her close to him again.

A mean 'Are you?' nearly escaped her but she quickly swallowed before actually saying it out loud.

"I love you. That ain't enough for you?" He asked and furrowed his brows, his hand softly caressing her.

Mary bit her lip and lowered her head. After clearing her throat she looked up into his eyes again. "Of course... And it means so much to me that you want me here with you. Believe me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than just move here and spend every minute with you.” She smiled carefully and leaned in to hug him tightly. “You just surprised me, and leaving my family is a big deal. I’m sorry.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

“Aw, Cherry, it’s alright, don’t worry.” He held her close to him, gently rocking her back and forth with him. “And I-I know it’s a lot. Just want the best for you, gotta get that in your stubborn little head.”

She opened her mouth but he shushed her. “Just trust me on this. Let’s not talk about now, though, Cherrypie. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Mary nodded in agreement, but she knew they’d have to come to a decision soon. After all, as much as it felt like one; it wasn’t just a dream.

.................................................................................

Taglist: @karel-in-wonderland @kingdomforapony @richardslady121 @18lkpeters @godlypresley @everythingelvispresley

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #army elvis #1958 elvis

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andreawritesit · 2 days

Text

shattered vows

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Aizen x wife! reader

Format: Multi-chapter fic

Warnings: none for this chapter

PROLOGUE

Squad 5 was in shambles. Their captain had abandoned them and their lieutenant was currently fighting for her life in the medical room. The Shinigami were looking at each other, searching for answers that no one had. The entire Soul Society was suffering from the betrayal of the three captains. The Head Captain hadn’t spoken to anyone about the situation and that was adding to the panic. Captain Shunsui and Captain Ukitake were trying their best to keep the situation under control but it wasn’t enough. No one could understand how or why their captains would abandon them out of nowhere. But perhaps the one most affected by this betrayal was now sitting in the room of previous Squad 5 captain Sosuke Aizen.

You were sitting at his desk, looking through the letter that apparently Aizen had written to Hinamori. How easily that poor girl had believed it and how easily he had made her distrust her childhood friend…

Aizen was always so convincing, charming, and charismatic. You knew better than anyone. In the 60 years of your marriage, you hadn’t once suspected him of harboring such evil inside his seemingly kind soul. To think that he had fooled you so easily made your blood boil. You picked up his pen and flung it at the wall. It shattered instantly and you wished you could shatter his heart just like that. The walls of this room reminded you of all the honey-laced words that venomous serpent had whispered to you, all the promises he had made with his false silver tongue, all the times you had poured your heart out to him, and all the times he had possibly fooled you using his Zanpakuto. You still couldn’t comprehend how he had managed to fool everyone for hundreds of years. Even Head Captain Yamamoto hadn’t suspected a thing. Your mind went back to the moment you had found his dead body pinned to the tower with his own Zanpakuto and the horror that you had felt in that moment; how easily you had believed that Ichimaru had killed your beloved and how stupid you felt when he was revealed to be in cahoots with your sweet liar of a husband. A knock on the door broke your train of thought.

“Uh, is it a bad time?” A voice came from the other side and you immediately recognized it to be the Squad 13 captain. You closed the papers and got up to open the door for him. Letting him in, you looked outside – the sky was dark and silent. It seemed lifeless. Ukitake sat down near the desk and his eyes immediately went to the shattered pen and the spilled ink.

“Whatever did the poor pen do? Its master is the culprit” he tried to joke but it only reminded you of Aizen which ruined your mood further. “My apologies, it’s not the right time to joke about that.” He followed up quickly, reading the expression on your face.

“Oh no, it’s alright. I’m just…upset.”

“That’s understandable. You have all the right to feel that way.”

“I still can’t comprehend how he could do such things… Tell me Ukitake, are they not suspecting me to be an accomplice? I am his wife after all.”

“No. Don’t worry. He made it pretty clear, didn’t he? He took his accomplices with him. You have nothing to worry about. No one will suspect you.”

You nodded your head and sat opposite him. He smiled warmly and put his hand forward.

“I want you to promise something to me.” You raised an eyebrow at his words. “What?”

“That if Aizen ever reaches out to you, you’ll come straight to me. No one else. To me only.”

“I don’t think he will. If he wanted me by his side, he’d have asked me or straight up taken me with him. But if he ever does, I promise I’ll come straight to you.” You gave him your hand and sealed the promise. Ukitake looked around the room sadly, occasionally glancing at you.

“Do you want to shift to another room by any chance? I understand that this room might hold memories related to Aizen and perhaps you don’t want to be around them?”

“Thank you for your kind offer but I’d rather stay here so I can always remember what he did. I have loved him more than anything and yet he deceived me. I’m sure in a moment of weakness, I might sway to his words. So I’ll remain here. I’ll look at these walls and remind myself of what he has done to me, to all of us.”

He nodded and got up. You followed suit and walked him to the door. Ukitake bowed to you and left you alone with the ghost of your relationship with Aizen.

------------- at Hueco Mundo --------------

Aizen was sitting on his throne, looking over the Vasto Lordes that Gin and Tosen had brought to him. Everything was going according to his plan. He had the Hogyoku and was now only a few steps away from his goal. Gin walked forward and pointed to the assembled hollows and vasto lordes.

“Captain Aizen, when shall we begin the process?”

“Soon.” Gin nodded and went to stand next to Tosen who had been silent all this while. The doors to the main hall opened and in walked two persons. One of them, with dark hair and green eyes, walked forward and bowed to Aizen.

“Lord Aizen, we welcome you back to your castle. I and the others await your orders eagerly.”

“You’ll have your orders soon Ulquiorra. In the meantime, gather as many Gillian as you can.”

“As you command, Lord Aizen.” Ulquiorra bowed and left the room. The other one scoffed and turned to leave with him. However, Aizen stopped him.

“Do you wish to say something Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow turned back around and bowed slightly. “Not really. I just thought that we’d get to fight the soul reapers soon.”

“Your wish will be granted soon. But I strongly suggest you remain patient.” Aizen’s voice was laced with finality. Grimmjow’s face tensed up at Aizen’s tone and he decided to comply. For now.

“Leave, everyone” Aizen’s voice rang through the vast hall once more. Gin and Tosen nodded and left, followed by the vasto lordes and other hollows.

Left to his own thoughts, Aizen’s mind went straight to the one person he had left back in the Soul Society. His wife. He sighed and leaned back in the big chair. She probably hated him now. Why wouldn’t she? He had abandoned her and everything they had. Aizen’s goals had always been way above any other thing in his life. But the woman had managed to take her place in his life and his heart. He had grown to genuinely care for her. Initially, he had married her to further solidify himself as a kind, reliable captain. Over time, he had found himself getting truly attached to her. Aizen hated when things didn’t go according to his plans and falling in love was not in his plans at all. And yet he did. He knew he couldn’t give up his plans but he also knew her. She would never take part in his schemes, being as kind as she was. So he had to make a choice, a choice he wasn’t particularly happy about. Leaving her there meant she would face him as his enemy in the inevitable battle with the Soul Society. As naïve as it was, he once again found himself wishing she would join him, stand by his side through it all. A vain wish after all…

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#finally writing a fic about my man Aizen #aizen #aizen sosuke #sosuke aizen #aizen x reader #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach x reader #andreawritesit

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sheepispink · 17 hours

Text

A Pearl Necklace

HAPPY ENDING VER of A Pearl Series

Ch1 Ch2

Where leon doesnt mess up and also leons pov because THATS SO FUN!!!

Continued from end of chapter 1 👍 this is a BONUS chapter. It makes more sense if you read chapter 2 first then this one. This can also be read as a continuation from chapter 2 as in the time line is the same except that it is ends with a good way and its his pov and like a few lines r diff

“That’s good enough. I fucking hate being woken to push her away from me..” A surge of anger swims in his chest as he shuffles to the edge of his bed, fuelled by a fear he doesn’t dare to pay mind to. It’s true, he hadnt wanted to deal with your tears or the feeling of you so close to him; nowadays

it created a feeling that was like a gnawing at his gut. His body eventually settles as his head sinks into the pillows, fluffed by your hands. Even when he’s tucked underneath the covers and beside the love of his life, he just feels so, so.. vulnerable. He rolls onto his side, one hand under his head as he tries to settle a racing pump somewhere in his chest, his eyes squeezing close. His throat chokes and his muscles clench and although he hasn’t made a sound, the reminder of the past few weeks screams in his ears like bells. Every single day is starting to feel more and more like autopilot, blanking his head out in hopes he can do his job without being reminded of horrors of years ago. He was worked up tonight, having fought another B.O.W and hiding a nasty gash beneath his shirt. You’d definitely ask about it later; the mere possibility bringing a flame of anger and forcing him take a sharp intake of breath. He turns over, seeing your back face him now and his lips pull at a small frown, wondering if you woke up for a moment. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep, ever. But he leaves you this time, still revolting the thought of your touch and your skin if he dared to come closer.

When he wakes the next morning, he cant take it anymore. How is there another round of tears upon her face? He finally pushes away the nausea that creeps in his throat, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Hey, love, what happened? Who did this to you?” Forcing such honeyed words feels like a crime to himself, almost making him frustrated with himself for being untruthful. He also hates the way he’s grateful when you just wipe them away and force a smile, mumbling something about watching a sad movie. Not even for a moment does he dare challenge that, satisfied with a lie as he gets up for another gruelling day.

Over the next month, he feels a swell of pride for how much he has healed. For one, he’s managing his thoughts and emotions much better, no longer hanging on a loose thread whenever someone just speaks. He feels better, having finally gotten to the hang of closing his mind off whenever the thoughts arose. He was sleeping better, you barely even touched him in his sleep anymore— it was perfect. The one thing that slightly irked him is when you would leave the house. Why are you leaving? He hates that he’s curious and he knows he should just let you go; it’s another fuel for the temper that seems to take him easily these days. You’ve also been asking a lot of questions about him recently: how he finds the clothes you ironed for him, the food you cooked and, worst of all, his day. He’s already doing enough to push it away and you’re just bringing it right back to him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He smells the familiar scent of blueberry pancakes as he steps into the kitchen that morning. You’ve been making them again recently but he wont dwell on the why and how. He doesn’t really like to think too much anymore. He picks up the newspaper as he sits at the small kitchen island, hair tousled and muscles aching from the long rest he received after a particularly tough mission. He had woken up on the other side of the bed today, kind of confused how he didn’t squash you in his sleep but as always, he doesn’t question anything. You slide a plate over to him, stacked high with those tasty pancakes and a dollop of whipped cream atop. He always had a bit of a sweet tooth and it’s been a long time since he’d been in the mood for sugar. Regardless, he’s not in the mood to smile or thank you, just eating his food as per normal.

“So..? Did I finally get it right?” He doesnt need to look up to see the small laugh and the way your lips curve into a teasing smile, one he had grown to despise. You always do this, every time you ask about his damn day.

He just- he cant take this anymore. You’re always prying, digging deep into his head and ripping bandages he left on because the wounds wont heal, they never will. He keeps them patched up for a reason, he doesn’t want to see it again. Nor does he want to talk about it.

“Can you stop interrogating me every day about whatever you do? It’s fine, okay? It’s never been any damn different; I don't see the big deal.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth as he holds back from practically shouting at you. His eyebrows furrow in exasperation, one hand rubbing his temple; he cant bear the headaches your words bring.

“I.. Leon- I was just trying to get some feedback.. They dont ever taste as good as the ones you would make.” Now you’re reduced to a stammering mess, trying to stir guilt within his gut, but he wont give in today.

“Well, can you stop? It’s really fucking annoying having to answer your stupid questions every day over menial things. Are you that insecure?” He doesn’t know why he said that but he knows it’s left his lips before he can stop it and one pang in the back of his head tells him that maybe he really is just being honest. You are insecure, thats why you’ve been doing so damn much and annoying him all the time. He takes another bite of the pancakes, his body screaming for relief even now with each rumble of his stomach.

“Leon- I understand work has been stressing you, but I'm just trying-“ There it is, that stupid expression again as you speak the one thing he never wanted you to say. “Work? That's what you think this is about? Maybe you are just idiotic or too narcissistic to realise maybe you are the problem.” He drops the fork in his hand, the metal hitting the porcelain plate as he stands. Of course you just had to mention work, you could never let him get a break could you? You just always had to ruin it for him.

“I am trying to actually be understanding, I'm sorry if I annoyed you but Leon- there is no need to put me down like that.” Again. Work. Don’t you know how to stop? He can feel that anger fuel again, rising and burning with each an every word. Until it snaps.

“You think you’re being understanding.” He laughs at your pitiful expression, thick with a mocking tone, as he says the words. “I can’t believe it. You actually think that. If you can get one thing through your mind, know that you don’t understand anything about me. You never have. Hah.. ever since that night where I almost fucking choked you.” He sneers at you, pushing the chair back as he stands, walking over to the sink with footsteps that echo with uncontrolled emotions.

“I’ve been trying to ask you—to help you. I want to be there for you..“

“Yeah, as if. You know, on that night, I really thought that you might just understand, unlike anyone else has. I was stupid enough to even think that. You just told me your same stupid reassurances; I should’ve kept my hands on your throat a little longer that day. I wish it scared you off and out of my life.” He snaps, leaving a thick tension in the air, like a wall between the pair of you. It’s cruel and unforgiving and an ache in his heart tears the muscle. Bloodthirst, it’s all he can remember from that virus thrumming in his veins. He can’t just quench that bloodthirst, not to you, so his mouth does the work, wearing you down bit by bit. The consuming memory of devouring the very life out of a human, it’s almost like it’s returning to him now.

“You’re not what I wanted.” Words are just spilling out his lips and he cant even control them; he cant even hear each calculated insult.

“I shouldn’t have expected things you could never reach.” He speaks, the plate dropping into the sink with a horrible clatter. All your words are blurring into one, meeting, intersecting all at that one statement ‘work has been stressing you’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stands before the sink, having splashed his face with water at least seven times for the past forty minutes. Only now does he finally feel more like himself—or well the version of himself he prefers to exist as—and his head is free from that invasive fog. Slowly his chest falls, letting out a long breath as his finger pushes the tap off. He hasn’t dealt with that in a while and it only served to remind him that he never wanted to again. That feeling of an aching chest, ribs feeling like they’d crack from the pound of a terrified heart, desperate for relief. Although he always manages to calm every time, the edge of the cut always remains unsealed. Theres no real relief other than the fact it’s all over, no peace in his mind ever. It frustrates him all the more, he’s tried anything and everything and yet theres still that pinprick of a hole which has cracked his mind and heart.

After that, he barely stopped interacting with you altogether. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. Maybe it was because you really were pissing him off about everything or that he had started to fall out of love with you. Or maybe, though he never liked to let it linger, he was terrified of the memories only you could resurface. He watched your every frown, the light in your eyes slowly dim out as you start to shift and change. It’s been two months since he last considered you his wife, let alone someone he even cared for. He barely feels the guilt of leaving you like this anymore nor does he feel anything anymore. It just feels blank. Like everyday, every hour, every minute of these days. He can’t remember when he last washed his hair; he just knows he did it. He cant remember filling out the reports, but there they sit on the desk. He cant remember what life was like before the missions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months. It’s been six months since he almost killed you, since his hands were on your throat and your terrified expression flashed through his eyes with your shaking pupils and beating chest.

Six months since he hurt you. He thought you had moved on, he thought he moved on. He thought he was doing okay.

Only having just stepped through the doorway, his eyes already found your trembling form on the couch. Your eyes were red and wet, salty streaks down your cheeks as you sob. The worst of all is that when you heard him enter, your eyes widened in a way that was far worse than just regular shock. Like you’d be scolded or mocked, shouted at or reprimanded; you looked like you were scared you would be hurt. He couldn’t shake that sight this time, every time he looked at you even when you scramble to reassure him that it was just hormonal. He knew it was bullshit; he had always known and he wanted to ignore it but he just couldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you were scared of him.

He sits at the breakfast table again the next morning, the air quiet from the lack of humming when you make your food, not even music playing in the kitchen or a pep in your step as you dance around the kitchen. You dont spend 5 minutes fluffing the pillows before bed, nor do you use those stupid face masks with the silly patterns. Hell, you dont even put makeup on anymore. The fridge is stocked and yet theres not even a trace of you to mark it as yours. Everything seems to have changed more than he expected. He cant fathom that he missed all these little differences and the fact there were so many. You’re not the same anymore.

There you go again, leaving randomly during the day after scrambling some excuse about needing spring onions. You barely ever use spring onions and he’s positive he saw some in the freezer yesterday. Whilst he usually would’ve ignored it, he finds himself edging closer and closer until he finds himself following you down the road. He saw the fresh tearstains this morning and you gave him no explanation again, this time he will find out.

You walk and walk and walk, and yet you never go to the grocery store like you said. So why do you even leave the house? It’s not like you were avoiding him, you still hung around him plenty and it’s not like you just needed fresh air, otherwise you would’ve just said so. He keeps his distance as he follows you, your depressed expression obvious, until eventually you pass by a friend. It doesn’t look planned but eventually the pair of you sit at a bench and as bad as it seems, he just cant turn around now. What if you tell her the reason you’re always upset? He needs to know.

“Hey, you know i always see you outside these days. I mean damn, do you really love nature that much?” Your friend teases, although a small pitiful look swirls in their eyes. Leon had been wondering the same thing as her.

“I uh.. well..” You give a sheepish smile as you lean into the bench. “I figured Leon would want some alone time.”

“Again? You come like everyday.”

You just shrug, sinking into the bench and quickly shifting the topic with a shake of your head.

A lot of things are starting to become clearer to him now. Every single action of yours held genuine love and yet he couldnt even bear to think about it. He wouldn’t dare to, he couldnt give in no matter how tempting it seemed. This is the life he chose; the life that would kill him slowly but it had it’s perks. He heads home after that, thinks about what happened for a bit before deciding ultimately to leave you alone again. Even so, you still plague his mind every night, every minute and second. It still makes his chest burn all the more, his irritation on an all high. He should not care, he cannot care. So why does it feel like he’s going to eventually break?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His body is covered in bruises when he returns home that night, a bandage around one of his hands and his eyes sunken. He had never felt worse in his life, feeling like he was tipping on the edge of fainting or just losing everything altogether. His heavy feet dragged him, feeling like weights were pulling him back as he reached the doorstep. After a few mishaps, he finally finds the keys and unlocks the door. His boots echo on the hardwood floor and though he’d usually collapse into bed, he needs some painkillers desperately tonight. The door for the kitchen is right there but he feels compelled to head to the living room and check if you’re awake. He hates that he’s actually glad he did.

This feels like the memories that resurface, only a new kind. You’re crying, again. You’re sobbing your eyes out and he’s had enough; he’d exhausted, bruised and battered and he’s not letting guilt consume him tonight. How dare you disturb the life he forced himself to follow? Anger swells at the sound and sight of you crying today, not because it hurt his hears but because it hurts his heart. The footsteps grow louder as he nears the couch and he hates the way you look up at him in a trembling fear, hands gripping the fabric of your pajama trousers. “L-leon, i didnt mean- it was a sad movie-“

“Stop giving me those fucking excuses.”

He’s pissed, his body feels broken, and he’s not letting you get by anymore. He’s letting that anger reign free. He nears the couch until he’s standing before you, no words spilling out your lips as you freeze up in fear. He could do anything to you but would he actually harm you? He knows he looks like he would, and he sees that realisation flash before your eyes. He leans down, closer and time seems to slow as his hand reaches out. His eyes focus on how you squeeze your eyes shut, the mere sight grasping his heart tight, brace for the impact and the sting of pain that should follow if he were anyone else.

But he’s not anyone else and he’s disgusted with himself that you would think so. His hand meets the small of your back as his arm wraps around you. He places your hands around his shoulders, knowing you seem far too frazzled to do so and takes you into his lap as he settles in your seat. In silence, he strains his bruised arm to grab the blanket you keep at the end of the couch. You always said it was for ‘cold nights’ but it always translated to cuddling sessions until you were caught by slumber and he carried you to bed. The warm fluff of the blanket is pulled over the pair of you, his hand keeping you firmly in place against his chest as he makes sure to settle you. He doesn’t dare say a word, the nausea in his throat creeping higher with each brush against your bare arms. But he’ll bear it for you, just this once. He knows your still unsure: he can see the way you sneak small uncertain glances as your hands twitch at his shoulders, begging to wrap around his form. So he doesn’t make you lift a finger, taking your hands in his and helps them to settle around his body before he returns to his embrace on you again. It’s utterly silent in the room yet the need to speak is desperate; the both of you know this isn’t normal and yet neither of you are complaining. With his chin resting gently on the top of your head, he rubs your back slowly until you relax into him and somehow grasp him even tighter. Even though his body feels like a block of ice, some part of him inside melts aswell; a small sign of that vulnerability he despised returns. Yet still he stays here until you begin to mumble small apologies which are only met by a small shake of his head and a motion to stay silent. You immediately fall quiet and he sees your eyes glimmer for the first time in months; he’s not sure if the crying caused it or true hope, but he prays you’re feeling just a smidge better. You end up resting your head against his chest comfortably, glistening tears staining your cheeks as you eventually fall asleep.

He takes you upstairs soon after, settling you on the armchair as he notices the dirty sheets from his lack of care. Despite his previous exhaustion, he couldn’t care less about his bruises as he takes out fresh sheets from the cupboard and changes them quickly. Once the bed smells brand new again, he scoops your drowsy body again, hushing you when you begin to wake, and tucks you beneath the covers. He cant lay beside you in such a state so he begins to head to the bathroom, considering a quick shower just to scrub off any grime. Much to his dismay, he’s quickly stopped, your weary eyes blinking as you sit up in bed and your fingers lightly tugs at his hand.

“I.. uh.. um..”

“Yes?” His voice comes out gruffer than he’d like, fingers twitching at the feeling of your skin against his.

“You- you’re going to come back, right? You’re not going to leave, will you?” The mere sound of your hopeless tone is enough to make him grit his teeth. The question sounds hopeful and yet it’s obvious you think you don’t trust him to say the truth.

“No, i’m not leaving, I’m just taking a a shower.” He states, voice just as cold as the one that would cut you through with insults. Still, his hands are gentle as they push your shoulders back into the bed.

“Go back to sleep..” He sighs, pulling the covers over you again. “I’ll be quick. I promise.” He watches as you reluctantly nod, eyes watching him with distrust before he turns around and disappears into the bathroom.

He stands infront of the mirror again, waiting for his mind to crack and fall as it usually does on these hallowed nights. He had done everything wrong tonight; he touched you, spoke to you, even promised you. He went near you when he shouldn’t have. But no onslaught of fears come today, or that sharp ache in his chest which reminds him on horrors in a foreign place. Instead, he just looks at his confused expression in the mirror, because for the first time in seven months he’s not acting mindlessly. He’s actually thinking, breathing and talking; he’s living. After everything he’s done to survive and live better, the one thing he needed was you. He understands now, after all this time, why his mind was so insistent on staying away from you, why he did everything. It was because he was scared.

Everytime he gets a nightmare, it ends with the fear on your face after that horrible night. The more he pushes it away, the more he tries to forget is the more he ended up harming you. He refused to touch you because of the fear he could do it again. Every single thing shut off in his brain because he was terrified of those traumatic experiences and he couldn’t ever admit it. He even refused to come near you because he was scared you’d try console him and he knew he would break within seconds. Vulnerability had never been his strong suit and the mere fear of it had ended up being the cancer that consumed every single part of him until he became a living shell. He never wanted to hurt you, or snap at you, or make you feel like nothing. He always figured it was better that way because it meant you wouldn’t have to deal with him and he wouldn’t have to open up. He was a coward and he had paid the price for it; the cost would’ve been your sanity if he hadn’t cracked tonight. He doesn’t want to think of what could’ve happened if he didnt, but he has to. Avoiding everything led to this and it will again. His hands plant against the shower wall as he starts to wash, and slowly begins to think about everything he did wrong even if it hurts more than those night terrors.

He watches your drowsy eyes widen upon seeing him when he re-enters the room, his heart aching at the tear stains that shimmer on your cheeks from earlier. “I told you to sleep..” He mumbles out, standing awkwardly in the doorway, wishing he could avert his gaze but that would be too cruel to you. “I..i… you..” Your lips fumble for words, eyes gazing up and down his unclothed body. Just in his boxers, he stands before you with his adams apple bobbing as he swallows sharply. “Yeah..”

From head to toe his once pristine skin was covered in scars and bruises of all kinds. He hadn’t let you seen him since his trip to Spain and the sight had been much more horrible back then. Scratches, bite marks, dark scars that show deep gashes and even fresh purple bruises from today’s mission. He knew he couldn’t bear to speak to you about anything just yet, but he mustered up his courage to at least show you. He was also aware this wouldnt make you magically forgive him and he wouldn’t accept it if you did. He fucked up, everything, but he’s not about to let it die when he can at least help you bounce back. He’d destroy himself if it meant seeing you as happy as you used to be.

“Leon.. i..”

“I know you’re going to feel bad, so don’t. I didn’t want you know, thats not your fault.”

He watches you nod meekly, quiet eyes still scanning all over his scarred form, before he begins to walk hesitantly over to the bed. Clenching his fists, he drives down the burn of pain that comes with each step and the guilt that blazes through his gut. Your hands reach out, tentatively before grabbing onto his own. “..Fine, i wont say that.. but can i say one thing at least?”He lets out a small sigh and nods in agreement, squeezing your hand as he sits in bed next to you. Your eyes flutter meekly as you swallow, his hands carefully lifting you to bring your head to rest on his lap with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I’m pissed at you. I- i really am and-“ Your eyes are persistent as they look right up at him, chest rising quickly as you spill everything out. “You made me feel like i was going insane and-“ He’s concerned at how your nails imprint into your palms before he gently moves your fingers to focus on something else—anything else, even himself. So he pulls you into him as you crumble, your fingers digging into his back as to express your desperation.  “I wanted to help you so bad- i didn’t want us to fall apart and we were, fuck- we couldn’t even be near each other. You looked so miserable every damn day Leon- I couldn’t even do anything about it-“ You let out a choked sob against his neck, his hand pulling you firm against him as he squeezes you protectively.

“It was never your fault, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. I was too much of a fucking coward to face life and i ruined us.” He confesses, the palms of his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. “Dont you dare forgive me, not now. I dont want you forgiving me until you’re absolutely sure.”

You quieten down almost instantly by his words, reaching your hands up to rest behind his neck until eventually you nod and he knows he’s made the right choice. His lips turn up just slightly and then you sit up a little better, trying to look firm even though you had been so vulnerable a moment earlier. That’s why he loves you, you’re just so perfect. Not once have you ever cared about what others think of you, nor do you let yourself be trampled over so easily. Even if you’re lips are wobbly as you narrow your eyes at him right now, coming off more adorable rather than angry. Despite everything he’s ever fought and the praises he receives for his work, you’re the strongest person in this very world and the reason he’s still here. You once told him that if he was a mountain, you’d be like those little flowers that grow at the top even when the conditions are beyond habitable. He’s never believed anything more until now.

“Fine.. if you really want that then i wont forgive you until you tell me everything. I refuse to forgive you until you tell me every little thing in your head.” His lips quirk into a slight smile, a first in too many blank days to count. His thumb rubs the curve of your cheek, so rosy and pink. “I promise, the day you forgive me will come.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before shuffling until he’s laying back in bed with you atop of him. “But for now, i want those dark circles under your eyes gone immediately.”

“You should sleep on the couch for all the days i did.” You feign annoyance, small huff leaving your lips and without a second thought he rises out of bed. It’s like it’s hitting him all over again, like a teenage boy trying to hide his crush, he misses the warmth of your body desperately. Even so, he knows he deserves far worse than sleeping on the couch, so he’ll bear it for now.

“I’ll make you breakfast everyday day going forward too. Blueberry pancakes, just the way you like it.”

Right now, it sounds like the bare minimum, but you had no idea how much he’d love you from now on. He’d tell you more but he’d prefer to see the glimmer in your eyes when you’re surprised. Though you tug at his hand before he can go.

“I think we can leave your punishment for next week. You owe me 6 months worth of love.”

That makes him finally grin and he’s under the covers again, arms enveloping you before you press your lips against his.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fluff #resident evil angst #leon x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #re4 #re4 leon

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k0kichiimagines · 1 year

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i hate writing cvs and teachers r useless at help i love them and i appreciate it but "i have no skills to put on my cv what should i put" - "aww no everyone has skills just think of something"

#SAME WITH REFERENCES #like i dont know people #it reminds me of when i tried to ask for another way to do a piece of homework because you needed to ask multiple people things #and my teacher refused to believe that i truly did not have a single friend to ask #and then finally went ok but said to ask other kids in my class #ma'am i had a panic attack after texting someone a simple message i truly cannot physically do that without passing out #i did not do the homework i couldnt be bothered to make up answers #so much of psychology was that though lol i just had to make up friends and answers #thats so humiliating to admit actually #see i used to be so sad that i didnt have friends but im not rlly anymore / srs #i havent had friends in years let alone close friends #i decided to stop trying it only ever results in stress for me lol #i dont even knkw what to talk about #like people dont rlly care about ur goals or interests or sharing theres or hobbies like what do we even do #its more lonely to have friends then not i think #and it does suck being alone but you get used to it even if ur extroverted and drained like me LMAO #its not like im anti social i just dont put myself out there #i want to live in a city apartment and fill it with pretty things #and learn an instrument #and get a pet #it's 2am im rambling im tired LMAO

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years

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Loved the essay, and it had a lot of thought provoking truths. Mine was an amazing character and I miss him dearly everyday 🥺 I still need to check out the story with Hamazaki and him.

But geez, Hamazaki was suspiciously fixated on Majima's relationship with Kiryu and the "Heeeeey what if Kiryu-san became the new chairman, Mine? Would that be fucked up or what 😳" just leaves me feeling ???? Like, what did he know, why them specifically, h u h.

mine IS such an amazing character, if not at least an incredibly interesting one to examine and think about. i love him dearly and while i miss him everyday, i can’t even imagine what the yakuza series would look like if he did survive Y3 and became a reoccurring cast member...

as for hamazaki’s fixation on kiryu, while i know the rggo stories were written after the mainline games, after reading the one i linked beforehand hamazaki at least has a personal reason to target kiryu so much and try to goad others into pouncing on him. but removing rggo’s existence, the most i can wager is that it’s nothing particularly personal, it’s just that hamazaki’s aware of kiryu’s popularity and strength and wants to try to turn people against him so hamazaki has a better shot at becoming chairman

#snap chats #hamazaki saying as much to mine especially tells us he wants kiryu out of the picture #i cant remember when the rggo story takes place but either way im willing to bet eveyrone's aware of mine's devotion to daigo #so by hamazaki reminding mine that daigo's position could be threatened by the likes of kiryu #it's more likely than not that mine would do what he could against kiryu to preserve daigo's status #of course at this point during that flashback daigo's status isn't exactly perfect but it's not totally fatal #so on hamazaki's end it was a bit of a gamble: get kiryu out of the picture and hopefully daigo would follow suit and not recover #of course things dont exactly turn out well for hamazaki either huh #it is a wonder why hamazaki tries to have majima go against kiryu though #i feel like just as everyone's aware of mine's devotion to daigo everyone should be aware of majima's faithfulness to kiryu #a weird move to be sure BUT oh well #ngl i really liked hamazaki- if not cause Y4 somehow made me like him lmao #i guess it was nice to see a character be able to redeem themselves for once- yk before like. immediately dying afterwards #but im getting off topic lmao thank you for the ask im glad you liked my essay :) i'll happily write another one if prompted or whatever lol #me answering this ask is such funny timing though in regards to the first half #i was JUST talking to my brother and theorizing what the yakuza series woulda been like had mine lived #thats definitely something i wanna try writing or at least looking into at some point #but... Say It With Me Now.... i gotta replay Y4 first LMAOOO #I DONT REMEMBER ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN Y4 #ughhh i keep saying ill replay it but i never do #i wanna draw something quick so lets see...#no i dont think i can play it tonight i told my sister i'd pack her lunch tomorrow #i guess after that i can.... we'll see i'll end this post now tho im rambling lmao

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rinhaler · 6 months

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Not me being an absolute slut for step dad Gojo and Uncle Nanami!?!? 😩 sharing is caring!

-Very Much Embarrassed Anon🫂

PERHAPS i got carried away but i hope u enjoy this !! luxe write something under 1k challenge: impossible x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, step/incest, fem!reader, step dad!gojo, uncle!nanamin, implied virgin!reader, threesome, vaginal sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, tit sucking, possessive!gojo, daddy kink, praise, pull out method, orgasm denial, noncon photo taking, slight oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking.

words: 2.7k

“You know you’re too young for boys, right?” your step-father reminds you, like it’s a mantra he’s told you again and again for years. It isn’t a suggestion or a thought he’s choosing to share. It’s an instruction. “I don’t want you to think because you’re all grown up and going to college now that you can be reckless.”

“I- I know, Satoru.” you smile at him.

Both of your attention is stolen as you hear your uncle, Kento, laugh out a scoff. He tries to conceal it as he ruffles his newspaper and drinks his coffee. You see your step-dad’s brows furrow in annoyance. Or, anger. He looks at you, again, and his expression softens.

“I know you’re a good girl, sweetheart.” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your form and placing a kiss atop your head. Nanami’s eyes peer over his newspaper, locking with yours. A knowing glance to each other before a smirk finds his features. He raises his newspaper, shielding his face completely as he tries to focus on reading.

He lets you go, reluctantly, as you pick up your college bag and grab your phone.

His expression sours as he sees you reach for your phone, smiling at a text message you received. He shouldn’t pry. He knows he shouldn’t pry. But he can’t seem to stop himself as he finds himself leaning across the kitchen island and snatching your phone from your hands. And now he scoffs, scrolling through your messages and looking at the name at the top.

“What did I just say?” he speaks, only an octave away from yelling at you. Your lip wobbles, and he keeps your phone at arm’s length as you try to grab for it. He tosses it towards the kitchen table so Kento can look for himself.

“He was just asking if I needed picking up for my classes, Satoru! You don’t need to worry…” you tell him. Of course this would happen. He’s always been stupidly over protective.

“Well you don’t, do you? That’s what I’m here for. Hell, I’m sure even Nanami would be happy to take you since he came all of this way to spend his off time visiting you.” Gojo reminds you. And you feel a slight pang of guilt at that. You know how hard your poor uncle Nanamin works. He could be on vacation, somewhere tropical, unwinding from the humdrum of his boring office job. But here he is, sitting reading the newspaper and listening to you two argue with each other. “In fact, you’re grounded. I’m keeping your phone and you can forget about going to class today.”

“But—!”

“Don’t whine, I’ll write you a note.” he adds, walking around the counterspace to collect your phone from Nanami. He finishes scrolling, locking it, though he keeps hold of it. “Go upstairs.”

You huff, but grab your bag and do as you’re told. It’s not like he can stop you from being online. You can talk to people on your laptop, after all. Though given the mood he’s in you suppose you’ll have to be stealthy about it.

“You’re too harsh on her.” Kento tells Satoru, earning another disgruntled glance from him. He closes his newspaper and rests an ankle over his knee as he leans back and drinks the remainder of his coffee. “She’s curious, you can’t do anything about that. It’s not like she’ll stay a virgin forever.”

“Tch. Spare me.” he laughs lightly. “You think I don’t know why you’re here? I hear you, you know, when you sneak into her room at night.”

And Gojo revels in how the colour drains from Nanami’s face. He sits upright, his back stiffened straight and he starts to loosen his tie. He should have known, really, it was too good to be true. He should have known he’d always get caught eventually. But by Satoru Gojo of all people?

“I haven’t…” he clears his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Sure.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “If I’m bein’ honest… I don’t really care. Who am I to stop you? I’m not blood… like you. Sick fuck.” he laughs, sitting down at the table and looking into Nanami’s panic-stricken eyes.

Your uncle rests his elbows on the table and holds his head in his hands. What is Gojo plotting? Blackmail of some kind, maybe. It’s not like he’s concealed his disapproval for his sisters relationship with him. He’s tolerated him, sure, but he’s a nuisance he thinks his family would be better off without.

“I don’t like this either.” he throws your phone towards the white-haired man and sighs. “But she doesn’t respect you, Satoru. She doesn’t even call you dad. I think she sees you as temporary, so of course she isn’t going to listen to you. Not really.”

“But…” he leans over the table with a smug grin. “She respects you, doesn’t she? Her favourite uncle. I don’t like college guys, I remember what we were like in college, I don’t want her around that.”

“No… maybe she won’t go searching for it if she’s better educated.”

Gojo’s brow quirks in intrigue, a sadistic smile soon follows.

“Who knew a corporate goon could be such a sick fuck, hah?” Gojo laughs, picking up Nanami’s coffee mug for him and walking it to the sink to clean. Nanami rolls his eyes, burying his reddening face in his newspaper again.

You feel a surge of fear stab through you as you hear footsteps climb up the stairs. You hide your laptop back into your bag and turn on your TV, hurrying to find something to watch as a cover. But when you hear a knock, you relax, Satoru never knocks.

“Come in!” you speak, happily, welcoming your favourite and only uncle Nanamin into your room. Though your heart sinks as your step-father follows, crossing your arms across your chest as you huff and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be like that…” Nanami speaks softly, sitting on the edge of your bed and resting his hand on your thigh. “We need to talk to you. And we want to ask you something.” he continues. Your pout fades, then, a slight feeling of anxiety creeps into you as you wonder if something serious has happened.

And Satoru sits on the edge of the bed, too, his beaming blue eyes almost pierce through your heart as he begins to explain. How he’s just worried about you because he knows from experience how college guys can be. How he’s your dad no matter what and he just wants the best for you. And he thinks you need a little help in the right direction on your journey of self-discovery.

“I know you’re a woman now, sweetheart, but you’re still daddy’s little girl. Yeah? So, let daddy help.”

“He- with what?” you blink at him, dumbly, and the delighted snarl on his face almost chills you to the bone. He doesn’t speak right away, so you look at Nanami. But it’s like he can’t bear to look at you as he sinks his head low with shame. “With what?” you ask again.

“Well, Nanami said you’re curious. So he’s been fucking you, right?”

“No!” you and your uncle yell simultaneously. Did he really tell your insufferable step-father something so personal?

“I told you, I haven’t slept with her. Don’t tease her or you’ll make things worse.” Nanami clarifies before he focuses his attention on you. “But you are curious, aren’t you? You’re getting attention from boys and you’re enjoying it, clearly. They aren’t good for you though, princess. They don’t know how to treat girls right.”

You hum, softly, as he pushes your legs apart, revealing your pink cotton panties to the two of them as they continue to talk you through their thought process. And the touch of your uncle Nanamin is your ultimate weakness. They both get a live response to his action as your pretty pussy starts to gift your panties with a dark, sticky patch between your dewy folds.

“Boys that age, sweetheart, they don’t know what they’re doing. Do you touch yourself? ‘m sure you do, I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. But that means you like to cum, yeah? These college guys don’t care about that. They just want a little hole to cum in and defile. And we think you deserve better than that.” Satoru explains, his inquisitive fingers begin to prod at your puffy cunt, though you trap his hand between your plush thighs.

“Satoru…” you respond, bashfully.

“No.” he speaks, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down the bed and towards himself. He looks mad, but there’s no real malice behind it. Still your heart is pounding. “I’m your dad like he is your uncle. I’m not Satoru. Who am I?” he asks, reaching under your skirt to pull down your panties.

“D-Daddy… you’re daddy. ‘m sorry.” you whimper. Your eyes flutter as his long fingers invade your pretty, virgin walls. “Hng—!”

“Gooood girl.” he smiles as he begins to curl them upwards. “I slipped right on in, has uncle Kento gotten you used to taking his fingers?”

“Mhmm…” you blush. The man in question bends down to kiss you.

It’s sweet, though you find yourself grabby and desperate as you follow his lead. He pulls away to undress you, unbuttoning your shirt and then his own after throwing away his tie. He helps you out of your bra, and you instinctively go to cover your nipples as you remember who you’re actually in the company of. But Nanami doesn’t want that. He locks his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he begins to suckle on them until they’re both puckered and raw.

“Sit her up, and sit behind her.” Satoru tells his brother-in-law. And of course he acquiesces. You’re moved like you’re weightless as your uncle sits behind you, his clothed cock pressing angrily into the curve of your spine as he continues to torment your tits. Satoru pulls his fingers out of your cunt and sucks them clean, smiling at how your eyes begin to sparkle with wonder as he puts on such a display. “Do not tell your mother about this, understand?”

You nod, obediently. You wouldn’t dream of telling her something so scandalous. Though it does fill you with a slight sense of pride as your Satoru makes it abundantly clear how desperately he’d longed to be the first person to explore your untouched core. He pulls down his trousers and you moan at his smooth, pink cockhead. Though right now it’s closer to an angry shade of red.

He really is desperate.

You wince, slightly, as he pushes his tip inside. Though he retracts it, coating his head in your wetness.

“Fuuuuck, you weren’t lyin’. You really never fucked her, huh Nanami?” Gojo chuckles as he pushes in deeper and deeper. Nanami slots his fingers into your mouth to suck on as you accommodate to the length. “Relax, baby. Clampin’ so much you’re gonna push me out.” he laughs shallowly, his thrusts matching as he begins to work you open.

“D-Daddy!” you gasp, back arching against Nanami’s chest before he pulls you back towards him.

“We’re so proud of you, princess.” Nanami shushes you, placing a kiss to your temple. You look at him with wide, trusting eyes, though he can’t really concentrate as his own fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust Gojo inflicts onto you. “Why don’t you show your dad how I taught you to suck cock, hm?”

“Oh? Now that I’d like to see.” Gojo smiles, pulling out of you briefly. The sound of your sticky walls echoes through the room as he pulls out. The men help you onto all fours, and your daddy slots himself right back into your tight heat. The adjusted angle makes you fall forward, your head lolling as he finds a nice little trigger inside of you. “Oh… there, huh? Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you right there.” Satoru tells you as he begins to fuck into you before slowing down.

Nanami takes his cock out of his briefs, tapping the tip against your swollen lips. They open, obediently, and you lick the precum he’s spilling directly from the source. Your hole flutters as he hisses, enamoured by the sensation.

“Perfect, princess. Such a good little girl for me.” Kento comments, and your heart beats harder. You’re almost robbed of all sense as Gojo pistons his hips into you, and he leans forward to grab your hair and wrap it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Kento, maybe we should teach her how college boys fuck. Since she wanted that experience so badly.” Satoru proposes, and Nanami considers it. He really considers it. And Gojo chuckles at that. “Go on… show her.”

Nanami nods, grabbing the sides of your head and fucking your face like you’re his own personal cocksleeve.

It’s relentless and dizzying and you don’t know how to settle. You can’t possibly as you’re ruined from both ends. There’s no reprieve, there’s no way to relax. You’re trembling and moaning and fuck you never knew sex could be so intense. Nanami is always calm and patient with you. But this isn’t that.

They’ve ran out of patience with you.

It doesn’t matter which way you try to retreat, you’re only encouraging the other one. More of Nanami’s cock down your throat and more of Gojo’s hitting your g-spot.

“W-We’ll have to get you on the pill, sweetheart.” Gojo tells you, but it’s more like he’s telling himself. He knows he can’t cum inside. He can’t, but fuck, he wants to. He fucking needs to. “College guys, they like- leaving their- mark.” he thrusts again and again until he’s on the very brink of blowing his load. But his life won’t be worth living if he knocks his cute little daughter up. His marriage will be over. He’ll lose everything.

And with that, he pulls out and coats your pussy lips with his sperm. The loss of feeling from inside makes you cry out around Nanami’s length, though you still can’t pull away from him as he continues to use your mouth as his own personal toy. You never knew your uncle Nanamin had this side to him.

He’s usually so sweet and patient.

He pulls out, too, depriving you of the taste of his cum and the chance to prove what a good girl you are. Though you take his load beautifully as he shoots soupy ropes across your pretty face. His heart skips a beat as your false lashes flutter and he realises a heavy glob stuck to them.

“College guys, sweetheart, might take pictures of you like this.” Satoru pulls his phone from his back pocket and takes a few photos of your quivering cunt. You’ve been neglected in the worst way, and it’s dawning on you now what he had meant by giving you the college experience. He tosses his phone to Nanami, encouraging him to do the same. Your innocent and betrayed face is captured so perfectly through the lens of the phone, Nanami’s pearly seed is the perfect colour for your complexion.

“College guys would send these around to their friends too, you know.” Nanami warns you.

“But we’ll just keep these between ourselves.” Satoru promises you. “I think it’s only fair we didn’t let you cum this time since you were so intent on disobeying your daddy.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson, though, Satoru.” Nanami speaks, pulling your hair so that you can look up at him and he can identify if you dare to lie to him. “Fucking college boys doesn’t sound that fun anymore, does it? Say sorry, princess. Your dad might let you cum next time if you’re a good girl.”

You sniff, and hiccup, unsure of where to look.

“’m s-sorry, daddy.” you sniffle, Nanami releases your hair and allows you to look back at Gojo, a wild grin on his face.

“Awe… sweet.” Gojo smiles, circling the bed so he’s standing beside Nanami, both of their eyes bore down at you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “I think we’re owed a thank you, we took the time to teach you such an important lesson, after all.”

“T-Thank you,” you sniff, again, “Thank you, d-daddy. Thank you, uncle Nanamin.”

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xxsunoosprincess · 2 months

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hi, can i reqs enha reaction to waking up with their back all scratched up after a long night with their s/o?

back to my regularly scheduled content 😋 absolutely delicious request

Enhypen’s reaction to seeing the marks you left on their back. (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings, 18+, minors DNI, mentions of sex, handjobs, and marking

Heeseung

Shy baby…. doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t want you to feel bad (and also secretly wants you to do it again). When you wake up he is fully dressed and sitting in bed, back facing away from you which is weird. He’s never awake this early and is he watching you sleep?? Can’t pry what’s wrong out of him so you end up wrestling him down and flipping up his shirt, exposing the marks (and making his cock throb). Repeated tells you it’s not a big deal but walks around with his shirt tucked in like a dork just in case anyone else tries to pull a fast one on him.

Jay

Loves that shit. Type of boyfie that sends you $200 to get your nails done all pretty. Taking care of you is his top priority!! Plus, he loves the way a nice manicure looks when you have your hands wrapped around his cock. He can also feel the scratch marks you leave down his back that much better with a nice set of acrylics. When he catches sight of them in the morning, you will have another “investment” sitting in your bank account immediately.

Jake

Shakes you awake after he takes a shower and the body wash packs an extra sting. Once he has you up and sufficiently panicked… “It’s important, wake up!!” Is not the most delicate way to wake up your partner… he pulls off his shirt and flips over to show you the damage. Thinks he has a rash at first, but it doesn’t take much to deduce what the red lines running down his back are from. Once you tell him, he switches to “Look what you did to me! You wild animal!” all whiny and rosey cheeked. Makes you kiss it better.

Sunghoon

Likes it and makes sure everyone knows about it. “Oh these? Y/n was over last night” cue groans from the other members. After that they stop asking but he makes sure they are visible. Will probably even ask you to do it again and leave marks along his shirt line so they “accidentally” show. And when you do, he makes sure to reward you with an extra nice pounding that night <3

Sunoo

Sweet blushing baby!! He sees it in the mirror while doing his morning skincare and shrieks. It obviously attracts the attention of everyone in the dorm, but he runs back to his room with his shirt clutched to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He finally slips into the room and sees you sitting up in bed, clearly just awoken by the chaos happening behind the door. Jeers of “damn Sunoo I didn’t know you were a freak like that!” from Jake as he turns around to show you what all the commotion was about sends you into your own fit of laughter.

Jungwon

The first time it happened he didn’t even notice. Goes about his day until he is at dance practice and is getting sweaty so he takes his shirt off. Sunoo’s scandalized gasp is all he heard before a shirt is thrown at his face with a hissed “are you crazy? what if the managers see?”. Oops. Not so secretly happy about it. Now he walks around the dorms shirtless after a romp with you in the sheets just so he can show off a bit.

END.

a/n: short lil thang to get back into the swing of things after everything that went down today. Good lord… thinking about getting two requests out tonight to make up for deleting last nights :( also reminder that requests are open for 100 follower event!! anyways, hope you enjoy! xx - princess

taglist: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (fill out form or dm to be added)

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vienssunshine · 7 months

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It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but I was extra inspired to write this because of a tik tok my friend sent me. description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long, so when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much for him to handle

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different.

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day.

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot.

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.”

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped.

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body.

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?”

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer.

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?”

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does.

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him.

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them.

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation.

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent.

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say.

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last.

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin.

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.”

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #touchstarved choso #choso kamo x reader

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

1.6K

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Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"

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