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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 months

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Jersey

Masterlist

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Mike x reader

Summary: Mike thought it would be a good idea to teach you how to skate. It wasn't — so he has to come up with a different plan.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected (at least condomless) sex, creampie, and a very needy, desperate, slightly pushy and arrogant Mikey.

Bingo: "Is that my shirt?" (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: As always, we blame @geralts-yenn for putting the idea of Mike as a hockey player in my brain. Not the field kind, the cold and violent kind. Of course.

It's also the third entry for my @henrycavillbingo card! I know I didn't exactly use the phrase of the prompt — although I did imply it — but a jersey is sort of a shirt, I guess, so it counts :")

Enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Don’t let go of me!” Who knew ice was slippery? You. You knew. Everyone knew. Yet here you were...

“I won’t let go,” Mike answered with a smile. He was the one who had assured you it would be fine. ‘Skating is fun, Sweetcheeks’ your freezing ass...

“Mike! You just almost dropped me!”

“I didn’t,” he snorted. “You almost fell, that’s not the same thing. Ow! Would you let go of my arm, before it falls off?”

You reluctantly relaxed your grip, panicking when he moved your hands from his upper arms to just below his elbow.

“What, no!” You scrambled to get closer to him.

“Babe, you won’t be able to move like that. Come on. Nothing’s gonna happen!”

“Are you sure you’re okay going backwards?” you asked. Of course, you were hoping he’d say ‘no’ and you could go back inside.

“Sweetcheeks, I’ve been doing this at least twice a week since I was six. If there was a way to skate sideways, I’d be okay doing that.” So, there was really no way around this, then? He really wasn’t going to let you off the hook?

“You said you wouldn’t let me fall!” you said, shoving Mike’s shoulder and pouting up at him. “That hurt!”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Mike mumbled. “Are you okay?”

You rubbed your elbow and nodded. “I’ll live. But I’m fucking cold.”

“Yeah, when you do it right, this is exercise...” Mike said with a grin. “Sweetcheeks, that was just a joke! Come here, please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this,” you muttered. “I know you love it, I just...”

“Babe, babe, babe, stop.” He put a hand over your mouth. “It’s okay! I thought this would be fun but... I’m clearly not a very good teacher.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen you coach the little ones! You’re great with them!” You trailed your fingers over his cheek. He didn’t wince at the cool wetness of your glove. “That said, I really don’t think this is my scene.”

“Alright, let’s get you off the ice and in front of the fireplace,” he said, laughing. “Don’t move.”

You stayed still while he got up, and then he pulled you off the freezing surface you were still sitting on.

“My leggings are soaked,” you noted, shivering as Mike pulled you along to the edge of the lake.

“I really didn’t expect you to fall this much, babe,” he chuckled.

“We can’t all be hockey superstars, jerk,” you retorted.

“No, but most people can at least stand upright on skates!”

“I’ll stand upright in the shower, thanks,” you grumbled, “and you are not invited.” Of course, that would have had more impact if you hadn’t encountered the edge of the lake at that precise moment, causing you to lose balance and tumble face-first into the snow.

“Sorry Sweetcheeks,” Mike said, in between fits of hysterical laughter, “but that was... You looked...” He pressed his hands to his side — a well-deserved side stitch if you ever saw one! He didn’t lose his balance for a second. Jackass.

You furiously pulled the laces on the skates but they wouldn’t come off. Why wouldn’t they come off? A cry of frustration escaped you before you could help it, and... Was that a tear? Great.

“Sweetcheeks, are you cr—”

“Only out of frustration,” you snapped before he could ask. “Nothing to do with you.”

Mike helped you up and helped you walk to the rock he’d cleaned off for you when you had arrived. It wasn’t as wet as the pile of snow he’d plucked you out of, but it certainly wasn’t any warmer.

You stayed still while he took your skates off, successfully avoiding any accidents, and watched impatiently while he traded his own skates for his shoes again.

“Can you at least try to hurry?” you said, no longer able to keep your teeth from chattering.

The hot water of the shower was an absolute godsend. You’d stuck to your threat to not invite Mike. He’d have to think of another way to keep you warm — and he would. You already knew what you’d be walking into; you could already feel his hands on your hips, his face buried in your neck, exploring every inch of your skin, eager hands scrambling to grab as much boob as he could manage — arguably not your favorite part but he was cute, so you’d forgive him — and then finally...

You forced yourself out of the shower before you got to the kind of stuff you’d rather have Mike do, and dried off. As you looked around the room, you noticed a jersey hanging from the back of his desk chair. After a quick inspection — it smelled mostly clean — you put it on before making your way downstairs.

A nice fire was waiting for you there, complete with a content-looking, shirtless Mike — admittedly your favorite flavor of Mikey — lounging in front of the fireplace. “Hey, come here, it’s nice and wa—” He stopped talking mid-sentence when he finally looked up at you. “Is that my... Baaaaaaabe... You took my jersey!”

“I did,” you said. “Want it back?”

You watched him shake his head, while he dug deep to find the ability to speak. He still hadn’t managed by the time he rolled over, scrambled to his knees and crawled over to you, grasping the hem of the jersey and pressing his lips to the inside of your knee. And then, finally: “Hot. So fucking hot.” It cost him to speak, even those four little words.

His lips moved up the inside of your leg at a glacial pace — atypical for Mike, to say the least. When he made it about halfway, he seemed suddenly plagued by an epiphany: “You’re not wearing anything else, are you?”

Blue puppy eyes widened even further when you slowly shook your head, and Mike sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with force. A strangled moan stumbled out of his mouth, and you knew what you’d find if you could see the front of his sweatpants right now.

Then, he was up, slinging you over his shoulder in less than one second, and at least somewhat carefully putting you down again in the nest of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. His lips found your neck — and so did his tongue and his teeth, his sloppy kiss causing you to arch your back off the ground, arms desperate to grab as much of him as possible. He had other plans, though.

He sat up on his knees between your legs and looked down on you as he planned his next move. Except Mike couldn’t plan. Like, at all... So you let your knees fall to the side and pulled the jersey up so it wasn’t covering you. It was enough to throw him off his game.

He shrugged in a ‘yeah, I could eat’ kind of way and dove face-first between your legs, wasting no time whatsoever. No teasing, no slow start, nothing. Just his eager mouth on your pussy, tongue flat against your clit — just the way you liked it — settling into an easy rhythm that would definitely get you where you needed to be.

A focused, goal-oriented Mikey was a rare sight to behold. In fact, you’d go as far as to say there were two possible scenarios in which he came out to play; on the ice, and between your legs doing exactly what he was doing now. The discussion of the subject had gone about as Mikey-esque as possible. According to him, if he lost focus in these situations, someone would get hurt — you personally felt there was some kind of a difference between a cramped jaw and a shattered kneecap or other serious injuries, but he didn’t see it that way. Not that you were going to complain about it, because focused, goal-oriented Mike got the job done. Quickly.

He moaned — a sexy, sweet little sound — when you grabbed his head, weaving your fingers into his dark curls before clenching them into a tight fist. It wasn’t that he needed the guidance as much as you needed something to hold on to...

“Fuck, Mikey...” He had you on the edge already, but you knew better than to tell him you were close. Any time you’d tried that, it had fried something in his brain and all consistency in his technique had disappeared like snow in July. Not good. So, you’d learned to keep your mouth shut so he could keep that gentle, diligent rhythm intact, until... “Oh god, yes!”

Every muscle in your body tensed and you screwed your eyes shut as he pushed you over the edge. You barely noticed the satisfied little hum that came from him — standard procedure, and nothing compared to the other signs of his elevated sense of self-importance. In other words; the least unbearable part of the cocky attitude that bubbled up whenever you came on his tongue.

You groaned when he threw himself on top of you, probably sort of accidentally crushing you with his full weight, but you forgave him when he kissed you silly, giving you plenty of opportunity to taste yourself on his tongue before he moved on to delivering sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded, grabbing your wrists as you reached for the hem of the jersey. “That stays on. Get on your knees and turn around.”

“Do you have—”

“No, I don’t. I need to feel you,” he whined — you almost felt bad for him.

“Mikey...” you warned. If you went there with him, there was no way you were ever turning back.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined again. God, those eyes were killing you. “You know you’re it for me, right? Fuck, you’re wearing my name, my number... You had to know that would drive me at least a little nuts, right? Please, please, please, pretty, pretty please, let me... Just... Please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, grinding his hips against you.

You’d seen him needy and desperate — of course you had! If you kissed this man’s neck twice at a party and whispered a single even remotely sexual thing in his ear, he’d already be begging to let him take you home. This, however, was next level...

His mouth stopped begging, but his eyes definitely didn’t, and the brutally possessive grasp on your hips didn’t relax either. He wasn’t going to quit until he got what he wanted, that much was obvious. That left only one question: were you going to give it to him?

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not kidding,” he muttered after a few moments. “Come on... Face down, ass up—” You clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence, and as you did so, you realized something.

“You don’t seriously want me from behind because you can look at... Oh my god, that’s why you don’t want me to take this damn jersey off, isn’t it?” ‘Vaguely indignant’ would be an accurate description of your tone. Maybe more than ‘vaguely’.

“Ehhhh...” The sound of a man who had been well and truly fucking busted. “Okay so, out of all the times I’ve looked at you and thought ‘woohoo, she’s mine!’, right now you’re so, so, so the mine-est... My name. My number. My sweet, perfect, wet little pussy. Okay? Mine.” He dragged you down to the floor, where he latched his mouth onto your neck again, this time with so much tongue that you begged him to stop. “Only if you let me fuck my pretty girl from behind!”

“That’s blackmail!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yup! Now surrender!” He grabbed your boob with one hand and tickled your side with the other before reaching between your legs. “Come on, you’re soaking wet and I know you need me as much as I need you, so... Let me bone you already!”

“I have one demand!” you said, wiping the tears off your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. No one could make you laugh like your professional idiot.

“Hey, we’re negotiating! That’s progress!” he teased, pinching your nipple through the fabric of the jersey.

“I get to be on top, first,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Mike, who didn’t see, because he had his face buried in your neck.

“Deal!” He snapped his head up, almost head-butting you in the nose. “Sorry! But yeah, deal, deal, deal! Fucking deal!” He scrambled to his knees and got comfortable in front of the couch, leaning his back against it and reaching his arms out towards you. “Here! Get over here, now!”

You crawled towards him, slowly, giving him your best fuck-me eyes as you let your hands slide up his legs — agonizingly slowly, of course — and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. “You want me, baby?”

The sweetest whimpers escaped him when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, but they turned into pitiful whines when you leaned forward. “No, I don’t want you to suck my cock!” Words you thought you’d never hear from this guy... “I need you to turn around and fucking sit. On. It.”

“Beg for it one more time, baby, please?” you asked sweetly. “You’re so cute when you beg for my pussy.”

“My pussy,” he teased. “Please, please, please, please, please come here and ride me.”

You paused for a moment, locking eyes with him, taunting him as you decided whether or not that was good enough, and quickly coming to the conclusion that he hadn’t been wrong when he said you needed him, too. So, you turned around, revelling in the sounds of eager anticipation from Mike as you moved to where he wanted you. Seconds later, you felt his tip at your entrance, and you knew the time for teasing was over.

“Fuck,” he said, twice, three times... You lost count, what with being a little too busy relishing the feeling of his skin on yours for the first time since you’d met him.

“Good?” Stupid question...

“You’re killing me, Sweetcheeks,” he moaned, clenching his fists tightly around the bunched up fabric of the jersey at your hips.

You moved slowly, knowing he would go absolutely crazy over it, and it wasn’t long before he was begging you for more. As far as you were concerned, he could forget about that, but he had other plans. He pushed you forward and quickly wormed his way out from under you, getting on his knees behind you, hurrying to get back inside.

“Can’t do this, Sweetcheeks,” he huffed, adorably out of breath. “Show up like this and then tease me. It’s not fair. Bad girl!” He playfully smacked your ass.

“Don’t act like you hate it,” you said as you reached for a pillow — playtime was over, and you were going to need one to scream in.

Lo and behold, he didn’t even pretend to hold back on the first thrust, much less any of the ones that followed, and you were left crying and moaning into that pillow as he railed you into the next century. You could tell from his breathing and his soft swearing that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Babe, can I— oh fuck...” This idiot. The answer would have been ‘yes’, but still... “Please tell me I’m not gonna be a dad...”

“I figured it would be better to see if you’d grow up first,” you laughed as he pulled out and lay down next to you with a hopelessly adorable concerned look on his face. Slowly, a smile broke through as you assured him it was okay.

You snuggled into his side, and he pulled a blanket over the both of you. “Hey, Sweetcheeks,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sighed.

He pulled on the jersey to get you as close to him as possible. “And you’re so totally wearing this to my next game.”

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #mike hellraiser #hellraiser mike x reader #mike x reader #mike hellraiser smut #hellraiser mike smut #hockey au

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lossie92 · 7 months

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Since you asked, here's a snippet from the beginning of my kakairu abo fic.

It currently has no title, but the entire story is already planned. I'm pretty excited about it tbh. Despite loving this ship so much, I've never written a fic about them before.

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mentions of domestic abuse, description of injuries

"S-sorry," he managed to say towards his feet, his throat tight. It felt like he was going to start crying any moment now and"I didn't… I-I wasn't looking wh-where—"

"Iruka?"

That voice was unmistakable. It was just his rotten luck that he would bump into Kakashi now of all times.

"Iruka, are you alright?" Kakashi prompted as he pulled Iruka more firmly against his chest, one of his hands settling on Iruka's back while he moved the other to gently tilt his face up. "Hey, sensei, talk to me. What—"

The alpha paused abruptly the moment he could see Iruka's face. Iruka could almost feel that keen dark eye watching him as Kakashi took stock of the bruises, the blood, the tears that finally started to fall. Whether he said anything or not, it wasn't going to take a genius to figure out what had happened to him and Kakashi was far from stupid.

"Who did this to you?" Kakashi asked a moment later as if to prove Iruka right. His voice was measured, but it was also very obvious he was doing his best to hold in a growl as his anger could be easily felt through both his scent and chakra. "Iruka, who did this?"

"I— M-Mizuki and I… we just… it was—"

He couldn't for the life of him find the right words to explain the situation. It was one thing to know Mizuki had attacked him in a fit of jealousy and another to admit to it outloud. Somehow it felt as if saying it would make it more… real.

"Did you argue? And he struck you?" Kakashi asked, apparently able to read between the lines despite Iruka not saying much at all.

"Y-yes." The admission felt heavy – heavier than expected – but it also somehow made it easier for him to speak. "He got angry and… I had to leave. I c-couldn't stay there. I j-just—"

He inhaled sharply when Kakashi's thumb brushed against his cheekbone, wiping away some of the tears.

"It's alright, you don't have to explain," Kakashi told him. His voice was impossibly soft, though there was still a certain edge to it. "Should I take you somewhere safe? Do you have a friend you could stay with? Anyone you can trust?"

Something inside Iruka seized painfully when he realised he couldn't point out even one person.

All of his friends were Mizuki's friends too. They grew up and attended the Academy together. Most of them were peers too, either from the same graduation class or team, often both. Asking them for help would mean not only explaining the situation once again, but also forcing them to pick a side – to pick one friend over the other. On top of that Iruka couldn't help but worry he would be the one blamed for how things turned out.

That fear alone was more than enough to make him shake his head and say, "No. There's no one like that."

#kakairu #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #kakashi x iruka #a/b/o au #pre canon #tw abuse #lossie writes #naruto #naruto fanfiction #wip

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billthedrake · 1 year

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GOALS (PART ONE)

Story idea by and collaboration with top son Turner ([email protected]).

[SCOTT]

"So what are your goals, Mr. D?"

We were sitting in a side area of a large cinderblock-construction room that was part of a gym the next town over. It was more of a lifter's gym for serious dudes, and a change of pace from the corporate health club I normally went to downtown. And certainly a change from the country club where I golfed on the weekends or on days off.

But when I hit 50 and decided to get a personal trainer, I'd scoured the online listings and read reviews and came across a familiar face: Austin White, a baseball player who'd dated my daughter back in high school. Well, he wasn't playing baseball these days but had graduated from college and was now working back in a nearby suburb as a personal trainer.

"You don't have to call me Mr. D," I reminded him. "You're no longer dating Shannon."

The trainer flashed a pearly white smile. He definitely had Lady Killer written all over him. Strikingly handsome-cute, laidback, and no small amount of easy charm. "Sorry, Scott," he laughed softly. "Old habits..."

I smiled back. "Yeah.... hope you didn't mind me looking you up." It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that I was face to face with Shannon's ex boyfriend, I realized there was something a little awkward about it all.

Austin put me at ease. "Glad you did, Scott," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

"My goals?" I prompted, recalling what he'd asked me. "Well, I turned 50 last week..."

"50's a number," he said, challenging me some. "Not a goal."

I nodded. "I guess I've let myself go some, to be honest. I'd like to get back in shape... healthier. And I guess there are some personal reasons, too," I admitted shyly.

He flashed that Lady Killer smile again. "I'm a professional Scott... you can tell me."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm hoping to rekindle things in the bedroom, you know?"

I felt dumb saying it, particularly to a dude as young and jacked as Austin. But he didn't miss a beat. "That's a pretty good motivation, Scott," he grinned. "And common, too. It's good to be honest with yourself about what drives you." He picked up his clipboard to take notes. "OK, so we know a big goal... any others?"

I filled him in on some lingering back and hip issues. They didn't keep me from being active, but they affected my golf game sometimes. "I'm afraid I haven't always prioritized being active," I said, no longer embarrassed but feeling proud I was taking the first step to being a better Scott Delahunt. "You know, long hours, lots of sitting at a desk..."

"Still doing the executive thing?" Austin asked.

"Yes. CFO," I clarified. "Though at a different company than when I last saw you."

"That's cool," he said. "And we'll work on your back and hip and see if we can improve your overall mobility... training's not a substitute for physical therapy of course but it can complement it," the guy added thoughtfully. "I work with all types of clients, but I specialize in men over 40.... you know more functional training and flexibility."

"Sounds great," I said.

"I just want to make sure my clients are on the same page with expectations."

"I'm putty in your hands, good sir," I half joked.

He laughed. "All right, Scott," he said, standing up from his chair. "Let's do some measurements and a few diagnostics." Austin had put on some muscle since high school for sure, and the form-fitting zip-up and joggers showed off a body that was big but that somehow didn't look overly musclebound. This young dude was definitely gonna be some inspiration for my own fitness journey.

I stepped on the scale. "198," Austin read out. "And 6-foot-even?" he asked.

"Maybe a hair shy, but yeah, 6 foot." I stepped off. "I really would love to lose the spare tire," I said, patting my midsection. I didn't have an outright beer belly, but I had some major love handles and midlife spread there.

Austin's easy smile was gone and he was in full business mode. "We'll work on it," he assured me, gesturing me over to a mat to do a timed plank. "There's no quick fix," he explained as he started the stopwatch. "No crash diets, either... I believe in strength training first as a foundation and then we'll work on the rest, OK?"

"Yeah," I grunted. I was holding my own I guess, but my lack of regular exercise was biting me in the ass, hard.

I did better on some of the diagnostics and not as hot on the other.

"I told you, Austin," I said. "You're getting a real project." Pulling out the self deprecating humor.

He was still in business mode. "I'm not one of those hardass trainers, but I have only one rule, Mr. D," he said, his old nickname slipping back. "No comparing yourself to anyone else. If you're on social media, I want you off it. In here, for 60 minutes twice a week, it's going to be about you... what you're doing and what you can do better and how we can get you there. Not any of the other guys. OK? "

"Got it," I said. It felt weird being bossed around by a man half my age, but Austin was the one with the Instagram body. I'd follow his lead.

We walked on toward the locker area. "And one other thing you'll learn about me, Scott," he added with a wink. "I have more than one rule."

****

[AUSTIN]

"Beast!" I grunted in encouragement as Scott pumped out a personal record on the bench press. He even did two reps without my spot, before I helped him on the third. As I helped guide the bar back into pace I saw his exertion-red face and concerted look break into a wide smile.

Psychology is a big part of my job. Every client is different and has different things that motivate them as well as different reasons they weren't motivated before they came to me. Being a trainer doesn't mean being a miracle worker, but you try to figure out what's going to work for a man or woman in the gym.

But I'd never seen a man respond so well to encouragement as Scott. I honestly didn't know what to expect when Shannon's dad first contacted me. But I always liked the guy, and he'd always made me feel welcome when I was over at the Delahunt house. He'd always take the time to say hello or chat and ask me how the baseball season was going or what colleges I was considering. When anyone else had grilled me about college, it felt like pressure - like "are you good enough for my daughter" BS - but with Mr. D, it felt like genuine interest.

Now that I'd been training the man for over a year, I'd gotten to see another side of him. He was guarded at first, but after a few months he'd started being more open. Something about the extra time to chat in the gym does wonders for getting the conversation flowing. He didn't talk ill about Mrs. Delahunt, but the man was clearly frustrated in his marriage. I was getting the picture of a man who'd thrown himself into a high-powered career and who liked to show off the spoils of financial success. And he wasn't happy.

"Give it a couple minutes rest," I said as Scott sat up, stretching his arms a little and rubbing out the burn in his triceps. "And maybe we can try for 10 more?"

"Oh yeah," the executive said enthusiastically. "Let's do it."

As he cooled down for a bit, he asked. "You doing anything this weekend, Austin?"

I was putting two fives on the barbell. "My Dad's coming to visit."

Scott looked into my face. "You're not excited are you?" he said, observant as hell.

I sighed. "I don't know, Scott... a dumb part of me looks forward to it every time.... but when he's here, it's like we don't have anything to talk about. He'll spend a couple hours with me, then go meet up with one of his buddies instead."

Scott didn't try to tell me it was OK. Or make excuses for my Dad. He just listened. "That's tough, guy," he finally said. "I guess some parents aren't good with the emotional stuff."

He got into place and went for another set. I had to spot him for a good deal of that one rep. I could read the disappointment in his face.

"Give it a longer rest," I urged. "Refocus. You got this, Scott."

The next attempt wasn't pretty, but it was all Scott. And the beaming look of pride in his face after was one of those moments that makes my job worth it.

[SCOTT]

"You hear from Shannon lately?" Austin asked between squats. He'd been pushing me more on leg days lately, and I was starting to see progress.

I never knew for sure why Austin and Shannon broke up, but Austin was a grade ahead of Shannon and gone off to college before her. A part of me wondered if Austin still had a thing for my daughter, but I figured this was just something to talk about, the connection that first brought us together in the gym.

"Not lately. I only hear from her when she needs money," I said wryly.

"Oof," my trainer gave a "that hurts" wince. "For real?"

"I exaggerate some," I explained. "But not a lot. Sometimes it feels like she sees her Daddy as a living, walking credit card."

Austin gave me a reassuring, empathetic look. "Well, at least she's probably having a blast in college, right?"

It was the perfectly timed joke, and it made me crack up. "That she is, buddy," I said.

I got in place and knocked out another set of squats. It was a struggle, but I got to eight.

"Nice," I heard Austin say. Then he added some weights.

"Sorry if I'm out of line, Scott, but Shannon is a spoiled B. She kind of always was."

I grimaced. He was right, but I didn't appreciate him talking about my daughter like that. "Maybe she is, but I take some responsibility in that. Kelly too... we both spoiled her growing up. We just wanted her to have the finer things, you know."

Austin gave me a look that said he felt contrite, even if he wasn't saying his apology out loud. "Better than the opposite, Scott," he said. "You're there for her, that's what matters."

"Things been rocky with your Old Man lately?" I asked.

Austin shrugged. He had a jock's bluster, but I could tell he hid how much things bothered him. Even discussing his relationship with his father, he tried to pass it off in an even, unaffected tone. "Worse. I haven't heard from him in two months. I left a couple of voice mails, but felt like some desperate chick wanting a second date."

"I take it you speak from experience in brushing off desperate chicks," I teased, trying to change the subject.

Austin grinned. God, he really was a strikingly handsome young man. "Ah, I talk a big game, Scott. Truth is, I guess I'm just waiting for the right one, you know."

It was adorable to see this muscled up ex-jock act shy, and endearing too. "I'm sure she'll come, Austin," I assured him. "Probably sooner than you think."

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether he could share a secret. He did. "It'd be a 'he,' Scott."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly. It didn't even occur to me that Austin would be gay. In fairness, I knew him first as Shannon's boyfriend.

The guy went into reassuring mode. "I don't generally share my personal business," he said. "With any of my clients..."

There was the Mr. Business side of my trainer coming out. Serious, professional.

"I'm glad you did, Austin," I said. "Um, is that why things didn't work out with you and Shannon?" Maybe none of my business, but I was curious as hell.

He didn't seem fazed by my question. "Yes and no. I mean I didn't decide I really preferred men until college. But even in high school I felt I wasn't 100% into dating the girls I was with. No disrespect to your daughter..."

"None taken," I assured him.

I did another set. It was getting really fucking hard now. "Let's stretch some," Austin said, a signal we were done with squats for the day.

On the mat, Austin guided me through some gentle stretches.

My curiosity was still getting the best of me.

"So... you have any boyfriends in college?" I asked. Before stopping myself. "Sorry... that's none of my business."

He didn't admonish me but just said softly. "Yeah, like I say I don't advertise my personal business."

[AUSTIN]

Like with a lot of clients, I told Scott not to weigh himself at home constantly. We'd step on the locker room scale once a month. That way, he'd be focused on strength and diet and not on the ups and downs.

I could tell he was nervous that day as he stepped on, wearing only his compression. I tried to act normal around Scott Delahunt, but the man was my type to a T. Older, just the right amount of muscle, clean cut daddy. A year and a half of training had done wonders for an already good looking man. His back had a nice curve and definition and his shoulders and arms were swells of rounded muscle. He still had a little padding on his middle but his gut was solid muscle behind it. He'd definitely lost some extra weight.

"190!" he beamed. "I haven't weighed 190 since my 30s," he said as he stepped off the scale and turned toward me. Scott wasn't overly hairy but he had a nice pelt of light brown hair on his now defined chest and torso.

"And some of that is extra muscle," I reminded him. "So... you told me your goal when we started... any luck in the bedroom?" I tried to make it sound professional, or maybe buddy-to-buddy. But lately I'd been thinking way too much of Scott Delahunt having sex.

He shook his head. "Not really," he said. I expected a sad sack expression but instead he just replied, "But I've decided I'm doing this for me, actually."

"Yeah?" I asked. I wasn't sure if he was just parroting what he thought I wanted to hear.

"It's about time I focused on what makes me happy, you know?"

"You should," I said. "You deserve that."

He gave me a grateful look. But he didn't respond. Instead, it was like he was displaying his body for me. Not lecherous exactly, and I think I did a damn good job of hiding my attraction to him. But it was like he wanted a gay dude's approval of his improved physique. Some straight dudes have hang ups about gay men checking them out, but I've met a couple of buds who feel they can trust me with my assessment of them physically.

I ventured a compliment. "You're looking really good, Scott. Muscle, definition, and the slimmer midsection are really coming together," I said. "Incredible progress, really."

He ate it up. "I couldn't be doing it without you, buddy. For real."

I forced myself to stop ogling his half naked body, as I told him I'd see him for our session Friday.

When I got home, though, I jerked off. A nice heavy load just imagining mounting Scott doggy style and pounding him hard and fast. As I cleaned up, I had to laugh at how turned on I was by this 51 year old corporate exec. Like, I always had to pine for the unavailable ones.

I just hoped for his sake that Scott Delahunt was getting laid that night.

[SCOTT]

It was tough getting back into the gym after two weeks. Austin kind of laughed as I showed my frustration at not being able to bench nearly as much as before.

"Been there, Scott," he patted my shoulder as I sat up. He'd been doing that more lately, touching me. Nothing too weird or invasive, kind of like one close buddy might do for another. But knowing Austin was a gay dude made me read something into it, I suppose. Not that he'd be into a middle-aged man like me. But I did find myself wondering a lot about the kind of men Austin was into. I chalked it up to idle curiosity. Austin had opened up a lot to me as we trained and talked, but he kept one part of himself private.

"How was Italy?" he asked.

"Incredible," I replied. "Villa in Tuscany, good weather, amazing food... what's not to like?" I started.

"That's awesome," Austin said. He seemed to enjoy living vicariously through his clients' vacations, and I knew that as a trainer he probably didn't have the time or money to do any big travel.

I nodded. "Yeah, but this sounds spoiled as hell to say... but I would have been as happy on one of your Smokies camping weekends." Austin grew up in the east part of the state and still enjoyed getting up into the mountains from time to time.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, why's that?"

I shrugged. I felt like sometimes I unloaded a lot onto my trainer, but it was like he was the one guy who'd understand. "I dunno... With Kelly, it sometimes feels like things have to be perfect... you know, THE best winery and THE best private tour... and she spends half the vacation posting the pictures on Facebook so her friends all know how she's having THE best fucking vacation.... sorry, man, I know I'm being a jaded asshole."

Austin patted my shoulder again. That touch against my warm shoulder through my workout shirt. "Not at all, man. You just have a better perspective on life is all." He gave me another pat. "Ready for another set?"

I nodded and got back into place. We finished up at the bench and went to do a superset of dumbbell exercises.

I was a little out of breath when we finally paused.

"Tough, huh?" Austin said, reading my face.

I nodded, not quite formulating a word. "Yah. Sorry."

"Take a sec," he assured me. He had me drink some water.

As we went to do some stretches and core work, our conversation resumed.

"So... I didn't know you were into camping," Austin said.

"I'm not," I replied. "At least I haven't done it since I was a boy scout. But the idea of getting away from Brentwood seems real appealing sometimes."

Austin squatted down next to me and reached over to pull my hip to correct my form. "No offense, Scott, but you're Brentwood through and through."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess," I said. Austin was originally from a small town in east Tennessee and had moved to the Nashville suburbs when he was 12. He seemed to have mixed feelings about the tony suburbs we lived in, and I had a hard time figuring them out. "Guilty as charged."

"I'm just razzing ya, Scott," Austin said, that easy going charm coming back.

[AUSTIN]

I'd taken a break from the apps. I told myself it was healthy to do so, but maybe it was healthier to get laid. In case, Scott's break from the gym somehow made me miss the guy. I was becoming crushed out on my client. I told myself that was because I wasn't getting any daddy ass.

My profile was clear. 24yo total top clean cut jock into masculine 40+ daddies. Inexperienced OK. Married or DL OK. Just be willing and ready to take care of my 7.5 inch cock. No-strings fun only.

I had a great set of pictures that got a lot of bites. That first weekend of Scott's vacation I got messaged by five men. Two just weren't my thing, two were smoking hot, and one was OK. I messaged the smoking hot daddies back and clicked with a businessman staying downtown. He wasn't Scott Delahunt hot but he was my type. 48, balding, strong barrel chested build, trimmed goatee. He was married but played when he was out of town. I assured him I was totally discreet.

It had actually been six months since I'd hooked up with a guy. I remembered now how fun it could be. Even dealing with the traffic heading into downtown. When I got to his hotel room, he'd just gotten out of the shower, freshly cleaned for me, and had a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a soft belly, not big but more along the lines of what Scott had when he started with me. His front was incredibly furry and I found the swirls of hair incredibly hot.

"Hey," he grinned as he led me in. He could barely take his eyes off me. I'm not an egotist... well, I am a little. But it's great to have that silent appreciation of my looks. His words made it explicit. "Man," he said in a deeper-South accent. "I thought you wouldn't live up to your pictures, but you're incredible."

My eyes swept his body too. He wasn't the hottest man I'd ever slept with but I loved his real dad-ness... married-with-kids Southern daddy, deep voice, ex-jock vibe. "I'm liking what I see, too," I growled, pulling my shorts up to let my boner ride up. I had been looking forward to some release real bad.

He seemed like he'd won the lottery ticket. "Dang! You really do go for older guys don't ya?"

"Exclusively," I said. I loved the chance to be direct with men about my sexual preferences. I stepped up to him and ran my hands along the soft furred belly before slipping my hands around his waist to pull him toward me for a kiss.

Some married guys aren't into kissing. I forgot to ask if Business Daddy was OK with it. He was. Or made an exception for me. He was used to soft kissing from a woman and was surprised by my approach. But he got into it and was soon pawing at my T-shirt, feeling up my muscle.

I was getting worked up, fast. My fingers undid his towel and felt up the bare buns. Some men like Scott Delahunt had to work to develop a thick round ass. This guy had the genetics for it. I could be satisfied with a nice slow BJ from a hot daddy, but knowing from our DMs that this guy wasn't virgin made me really want to tap his hole.

"What are your thoughts on the D word?" I growled. Business Daddy seemed real into me, and I felt I had the cards, at least enough to push this.

"Daddy?" he asked, to clarify.

"'Dad' is even hotter to me," I said, taking his wrist and guiding it to the hard ridge in my mesh shorts. Instantly his thick fingers curled greedily around it.

He gulped. "Never done that scene," he admitted. "But if it turns you on, buddy..."

"It turns me the fuck on," I assured him. I kissed him again then kissed and licked along his ear lobe. "Why don't you get down and suck my dick, Dad?" I whispered.

He had a naughty look on his face as he crouched down. The man wasn't all that hung and his shorter dick stood out like a spike from his hairy crotch as he got down. He peeled down my shorts, like he was unwrapping a Christmas present.

"Dang... fucking big piece ya got, buddy," he hissed, taking it in his hand and licking it. "Go easy on me, will ya?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, not wanting to get out of this scene now that I had the green light. Then I felt his warm mouth descend on me. Business Daddy wasn't experienced but I wasn't his first cock either. It was a nice sweet spot. I imagined my father doing this to me. Sucking me, learning how to suck me.

"That's it, Dad," I grunted. "Suck your boy. Love your hot fucking mouth on my dick, sir." Some guys were turned off by my verbal approach, and others were way turned off by the incest scene. That's one reason I sometimes found hookups not to be satisfying. It was hard to develop a rapport to go deep with a one-off guy.

But Business Daddy was getting into it, sucking me more fully now, with a bit more of a slow suction that was getting me worked up. I watched his balding head bob up and down on my crotch. My own father had more hair, though it too was thinning. Like Scott Delahunt's.

"If you keep sucking, Dad, I'm gonna cum," I warned. "But I really wanna fuck you, sir."

Business daddy pulled off and took one admiring look at my spit wet dong. "Damn you are a pervy fucker," he laughed.

I kicked off my shorts and peeled off my T-shirt. "Yeah I'm a perv," I replied. In the past I might have felt embarrassed but now I was unapologetic. I fisted my cock and looked him in the eye. "When was the last time you got fucked?"

He seemed to be on the defensive now, and I worried I let my horns get the worst of me. If I fucked this up....

"Two years," he said softly. "I don’t usually...."

"You enjoy it?" I questioned him.

He nodded, blushing some. "A little too much."

"You got ready for me, right?" I just wanted to remind him of the reason I was there and not hooking up with one of the other guys.

He nodded. "You're intense, you know that right?" he said. Like his physical attraction to me was countered by a vibe that just wasn't working for him.

"I'm just horny, man," I explained. "I haven't fucked a guy in six months. I fucking miss it."

"A dude like you... I would have thought..." he started and didn't have to finish.

"Let me eat you for a bit," I said. "I want you to want this, man."

He nodded and got on the bed, pulling his legs back. Fuck, that hole was beautiful. Furry dad trench with a nice tight hole. I got in place and examined it, taking my time before leaning in and licking. Business Daddy was squeaky clean and I took the opportunity to go to town, really feasting on that ass like it was my last meal.

It was a nice cool down from the BJ and the Dad-talk earlier but also worked me up in a way.

"Lube?" I asked when I finally pulled back. He gestured to the small table on the other side of the bed. I went around and Business Daddy scooted to reposition himself on the bed.

I took my time fingering him, talking with him about men and cocks and fucking. I avoided the Dad-Son stuff since I wanted to build the vibe rather than kill it.

"So..." I said as I now slid three slick fingers in and out of his stretched tightness. I had the conquerer gene in me, I suppose, because I LOVED the idea of getting a hole that had barely been fucked. "We talked a little earlier... I'm on PREP and get tested regularly... I'd love to get in you raw, sir."

"I've never done that," he whispered, but I could see his shorter, fatter dick throb as I worked the first inches of his insides.

"Is that a NO?" I challenged him. I was going to respect his wishes, but I was gonna do my damnedest to get the fuck I wanted then.

"Go ahead, man," he said. "I trust ya."

I scooted up and lined my bare cock against his ring. It took some work, alternating fingering with some teasing with my cock. But I finally breached him in a way that was comfortable for him.

"Easy," I hissed as I rubbed his soft belly and pushed deeper. "Just going slow here.... you got this."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Feels good actually," he said. His eyes had been on mine but now he looked all over my body. "You're so fricking hot."

I grinned. "You like the jocks, huh?"

"I do," he replied. Not embarrassed, but forthright.

"You wanna tell me about any of them?" I was pushing the envelope for sure, but my cock was almost bottomed out in his hole.

He gave me a grin. "I don't play around at home... but there's the neighbor kid. Got a football scholarship at Ole Miss... hot fucker."

I plowed in. Business Daddy accepted me, his dick thwapping excitedly at the full penetration. "You wish he was here fucking you now?"

"God, man," Business Daddy was the one getting into the pervy headspace now. He reached up and clenched at my sides. Hungry. I gave him the kiss he craved. Then I started thrusting into him.

"I'd love both of you guys at once," he admitted. "Tag teaming me."

"That'd be hot," I leered, really getting into this. I rarely got to do this level of verbal with a guy, and it was really working me up. "Two jocks... taking turns.... opening up that Daddy hole."

"Yes," he hissed... "fuck me, stud!"

I was getting more athletic with my pumps. "Been too long hasn't it, Daddy... since you had a young cock in ya?"

Maybe the D word was pushing it, but Business Daddy picked it right up. "God yeah, son. Fuck your Dad!"

Oh jesus. The surprise of those words, and the deep Southern accent of them had my balls pumping. Not a pre-orgasmic warning, but the real deal. I was ejaculating hard into this older business man.

"That's it, son. Get your nut. Show Dad what ya got." For a man who didn't seem into pervy role play, he sure knew what to say now.

I growled my way through my deep orgasm and then kind of fell on him, reclaiming a kiss as my dick pumped out its dribbles into his conquered hole.

I gathered my senses and got back into the original position, squirting some lube on his spike and slowly pumping him as I urged him off. I even had him describe that Ole Miss tight end in detail. His whole body went beet red as he came, and I knew it was a major orgasm for him too.

We made small talk afterwards. He even said he'd hit me up next time he was in Nashville. "You're a wild one, buddy... but I sure as hell enjoyed the ride."

[SCOTT]

"You got anything going on this weekend?" I asked Austin as he had me do some shoulder raises. I'd been trying to find a nonchalant time to bring it up.

He examined my form and counted my reps silently. "Good," he said as I finished the set and set the dumbbells down on a bench. "Nothing really going on. What about you, man?"

I stood squarely to face him. He was the young jacked stud, but I was getting more proud of my body after a year and a half of working out with him, and more confident in my skin, so to speak. "Well, the Titans have a home game Sunday. I was wondering if you wanted to go see them with me," I ventured.

There came that pearly white smile again, and an excited kid-like look. "What, you got tickets?"

"Two of them," I boasted. "I got 'em through work. A buddy of mine was going to go but had to back out." That second part was a lie.

Austin showed some concern. "Man, I'd love to. Hell, I'd really love to. But I can't afford that." I got the feeling he was an independent-spirited man who didn't like to be beholden to others.

"The ticket's just gonna go to waste,” I said, “and I'll enjoy having someone to go with." I saw his resolve start to melt, so figured I could lay out the rest of my plan. "It's an afternoon game, we can get a hotel downtown for the night and live it up a little. Come on... Kelly's doing some girls trip to Napa, and I have a real bachelor's weekend I want to enjoy."

Austin smiled. "Well, when you put it that way.... jesus, I can't believe you have fucking Titans tickets. You go often?"

I could sense a real envy in his tone. "Yeah, from time to time," I admitted. "I did season tickets a couple years ago, but Kelly griped that my Sundays were all taken up."

He smiled. "I bet these tickets are great seats, too, aren't they?" Teasing me.

"Pretty damn good," I smirked. "We're gonna have a blast, buddy."

[AUSTIN]

I was in a good mood. Strike that, I was in a great mood. The Titans had beaten the Texans but even if they hadn't I just enjoyed being in Nissan Stadium and shouting my lungs out. Scott seemed bemused how into it I was but didn't say anything. The man struck me as something more than a fair weather fan and less than a diehard fan.

But I was grateful for the ticket and that he'd had me tag along. He insisted on covering the hotel room. "Trust me I got a million hotel points to burn through," he countered. So I got the tab as we grabbed beers in one of the downtown bars.

It was a lot of regular guy talk. About the game and the upcoming Titans season. About how September can be the best month in Nashville. About his wife's wine trip and their fall plans. About the cheat day Scott was having and how my metabolism let me get away with stadium concession food and day drinking on occasion.

God, he looked good. Great even, in his snug pale blue Titans T-shirt that clung to his arms and pecs and the hint of dad gut he was still chipping away at. I never saw him outside of the gym, at least not since I'd dated his daughter. He was so focused working out, like that was a second job to him. But this was Scott Delahunt in the mood to let down his hair. Smiling, happy, joking.

Maybe that's what led me to let my hair down too.

"It was my professor," I blurted.

"What?" he asked.

Maybe I enjoyed catching him off guard. But I clarified. "You once asked me who I dated in college. It was my Chemistry professor."

Scott looked at me like I was kidding him. "Are you teasing me?"

I shook my head. "Nah. You're the first guy I've ever told actually. Buy yeah for two years... I don't know if dating was the right word, but it wasn't casual either. He was my first boyfriend."

I kind of wondered if Scott would be put off by the admission. Or even the gay talk. But he seemed laidback about it, and he'd been the one to ask. He took a sip of beer and eyed me up, like he was still trying to decide if I was on the level. "Was this while you were his student or after?"

"While," I replied. "Though we kept hooking up after. That's when I decided maybe I wasn't so bisexual after all."

Scott seemed nervous with that comment but didn't object. Instead, he shook his head. "I would have guessed you would have gone for another college dude."

I shook my head. "Not my thing." Here goes. "I'm only into older guys, actually."

"Really?" Scott was moving from incredulous to amused. "What are we talking about?"

I shrugged. It was kind of a relief to have this open dialogue with the man. "95% of the time, men in their 40s or 50s."

"I knew a buddy in college who was into cougars," he laughed. "The guys gave him a lot of guff, but Taylor got laid so fucking much..." Scott was laughing as he recalled old times then seemed like he had something on his mind.

"What?" I asked.

He paused and looked at me. "Nothing, buddy." He held up his now empty pint glass. "Can I get the next round?"

"No doing, Scott," I said, standing up. "I'm buying."

[SCOTT]

Bringing Austin along to the game was the right call, I realized. I'd never seen a guy so thrilled. He'd been to a couple of games before, but it was a rare treat for him. I was happy to have given him that.

I didn't have any ulterior plans. Then again, maybe I did and just didn't admit them to myself. I told myself I was just having a good time, too. Hanging out with Austin felt freeing, like my college days. Before my career and family, and before the country club set I socialized with. I liked my golf buddies just fine, but there was always that one-up-manship. I could play that game, too, but with Austin, I didn't have to.

We got a little tipsy but didn't go wild. I told Austin he should just enjoy the downtown nightlife on his own. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "No offense to you heteros, Scott, but drunken hos aren't my idea of fun," he laughed.

I loved that he was freer with me. Not guarded, able to talk about being a gay man. I think stupidly I assumed gay guys didn't have the same problem with sex, of finding regular and compatible partners. But I could tell with Austin, he had some dissatisfactions of his own. I almost asked him about it in the bar, but figured I'd mind my own business. I hoped he'd feel free to share with me some time.

It had been in the back of my mind. What sex with a guy would be like. Yeah. I'd fooled around some in college, but that was just that, fooling around. Naughty fun I'd have with some buds when we didn't have girlfriends or weren't getting enough. After I met Kelly, I'd fantasize about other women, sometimes a lot. I figured most guys do. But I never gave much thought to men.

But as Austin and I got ready for bed in the hotel room, I was thinking of it. His eyes were on me. Quiet lust in his eyes that made me feel sexually attractive in a way I hadn't felt in years. This wasn't some cougar in some downtown hotel bar giving me the heavy eye, this was a young hot stud with an Instagram fitness body. Just a dusting of hair but also lots of pale, smooth muscle.

And, as he strutted out of the bathroom in his boxer briefs, I could see the definition in his round ass and the thick bulge of his crotch. It wasn't fair a young man this perfect should be hung, but I had a good idea he was. I tried not to let him catch me looking at his package, but he gave a soft smirk as I darted my glance away. He ran his thumbs along the waist band to adjust the underwear, but his eyes had a question in them. Maybe a plea.

"Good night, bud," I said. Forcing myself to slip into the covers of one of the two beds, as if my heart weren't racing a million miles an hour.

"Good night, Scott," came his reply. Almost soft, not cocky. I'd been nervous until that point, but that voice gave me a boner beneath the sheets. And the very fact I was responding to his gentle masculinity added to the thrill. A feeling I hadn't felt before but maybe wanted to for a while.

He turned out the light.

[AUSTIN]

I was so hard, I couldn't sleep. Scott Delahunt had starred in my JO fantasies a lot lately, and I knew after this weekend he was gonna be in them a lot more. I tossed and turned and tried to think of other stuff. I tried to think of the Titans season but then I'd remember one of the coaches I wanted to bone.

I hoped the beer would catch up and help me sleep. It didn't. I don't know how long I lay awake. Maybe an hour. I decided to go to the bathroom, where I could jerk off in privacy. It wouldn't take long to get my nut and take the edge off.

"Can't sleep either?" I heard Scott say as I scooted to get off the bed. His voice wasn't quiet but wide awake.

"No," I gulped.

"Anything I can do to help?" came his voice in the dark.

My heart pounded. "God, Scott." I was SO close to just saying, "come over and suck me off Daddy." Instead, Scott could tell the frustration in my voice.

"I'm serious, Austin. If you wanna ask me, I won't judge." he said. Then, "I actually kind of want you to ask me."

My heart melted. Here was my dream man, vulnerable as hell. Maybe I'd made him feel that way. Maybe it was just fate.

"Would you join me in my bed?" I asked. Into the darkness of the room. I thought of turning on the lamp but didn't want to break the spell that was set between us.

Scott didn't answer, and I first I though I'd fucked it up big time. Misread what he was suggesting. But then I heard his mattress squeak and then felt his warm body bump against mine beneath the sheets. I scooted over to give him room.

The man was shaking some, but his hands were not wasting time eagerly touching my body. I knew from his touch he'd been thinking about this, wondering what my muscle would feel like. I let him feel and reached down to take off my briefs in case he wanted to feel more.

"Fuck!" he hissed.

"We can take this slow, Scott," I assured him as my own hands were pawing at his older muscle. I'd never get sick of the feel and rougher skin of a middle aged man. And the idea of what he represented to me. Power, authority, experience. I kept my urges in check and slowly caressed his warm back.

The man pulled his hands back some and like that he was peeling his own underwear off. Baring himself for me.

I don't know what I felt first, his hard dick against mine or his lips pressing into a kiss. It wasn't until that kiss that I realized how much I'd pent up. And how much Scott had pent up himself. He was married, maybe nominally straight or whatever. But this man wanted me.

In my past times with older guys, I insisted on getting serviced. It was part of my thing, I guess, my power trip. But I'd heard enough of Scott's marital woes, that I knew I had to give him a real blow job. I kissed my way down his hairy chest and still padded middle and started licking his cock.

His dick was on the smaller side, between 4.5 and 5 inches and was the hardest dick I'd ever encountered. I was grateful for his size as I opened my mouth and took that cock in.

"Yes," he hissed excitedly.

I rarely suck cock and if I do, it's as a teaser for foreplay. So I'm not an expert, but I must have been better than Mrs. Delahunt.

"Suck me buddy!" Scott gasped. His fingers were in my hair, on my scalp. Not possessively, but more appreciative. Like he'd forgotten what pleasure like this was like. I was reminding him with steady and faster mouth strokes.

I backed off a few seconds before he came. I needed this daddy's mouth on my cock before orgasm removed his willingness to suck me. I climbed up and met Scott in another kiss before I pulled back and scooted up to line up my arching, hard prick to his face.

"Take your time," I urged. Not "please suck me" or "would you blow me too?"

I didn't need the pleasantries. I felt his warm wet tongue lick at my head. Tentative as hell, but it was the kind of tentative fear of not doing it right than not wanting to do it.

"Feels great," I assured him. Now running my fingers through his hair. Appreciative, but definitely possessive. I pushed into his mouth. About three inches. Enough to fill him but not trip any gag reflex. "Just take me, man. Nice shallow strokes... there." I was doing most of the work. Maybe I'd train Scott how to be my cocksucker. The very idea got my balls boiling with my load.

Even if he wasn't doing the work he was doing his best. Sucking at me, trying to keep his saliva contained while forming a ring around my softly pistoning cock. I was thick as well as long, and I knew I was a lot. But the man was acting like a champ.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth, Scott," I warned him. Giving him an out. He had three seconds to do something about the situation. He didn't, so like that I was firing off big. A heavy load right into his mouth. I pulled back so he'd get it mostly on his tongue. I thought he'd feel more comfortable swallowing it that way, but mostly I wanted him to taste me. To know what my cum was like.

I pulled out and felt my prick twitch in the aftershocks.

The man deserved any release I could give him. I scooted back down to suck him to completion but as I approached his crotch, I smelt that familiar bleachy-floral scent. And felt his hands grip my head to stop me.

"I... just came," he admitted.

#drakestories

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watch-that-writer-burnnn · 2 years

Text

Keeping You Warm

Pairing: Jaskier x reader

Summary: Sad bard turns up soaking on reader's doorstep during a storm, so they offer to give him a bath to warm him up. Comfort and cute bath fluff ensues

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff! Nothing explicit but it does get a bit steamy... Maybe a little angst but not really.

Words: 2159

A/N: I wrote this ages ago but forgot to post it. Hope you enjoy!

He was the last person you'd expected to see tonight, especially not looking like this. Dripping wet, brown fringe plastered onto his delicate face, soft blue eyes staring sadly down at you. He shivered, numb fingers trying in vain to hold his soaked doublet closed across his chest, which was heaving with ragged breaths of exhaled steam.

Behind him, rain mercilessly tore up the muddy ground, the light from the lantern by the front door casting odd shadows on the shimmering ground.

A puddle formed on your doorstep as you stared in disbelief at your old friend.

"Jaskier? What are you doing here?"

He attempted a smile, opening his mouth to respond, but was suddenly overtaken by a coughing fit, doubling over. You rushed forward, reaching for his shoulder and guiding him inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

"S-sorry..." he muttered shakily. He managed a smile as his eyes met yours. "It's good to see you."

You beamed back at him.

"It's good to see you too, Jask." You threw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly as he wrapped his own arms around you, firm hands pressing into your back. You relaxed in his embrace, smiling into his shoulder. He really was soaked, and the brush of his fingers through your shirt felt like ice. You finally pulled back.

"What the hell were you thinking, being out in that storm? You could have frozen to death!"

"Yeah, I know. I just... Needed to see you. And my weather forecasting skills are unfortunately lacking."

You sighed. "Well, at least you're here now. Come on, let's get you warmed up."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, the warm touch of your lips making him blush slightly, obvious against his cold, paled skin, and led him by the hand towards your crackling fireplace.

"We'll get you out of those wet clothes, and then run you a bath," you said, looking him up and down to determine which of your garments would best fit him.

"So keen to get me undressed?" he smirked. You punched his arm.

"Don't flatter yourself," you winked.

"You'll freeze to death if you stay in those soaked clothes."

You turned to leave the room, but Jaskier quickly reached out and took your hand in his own, pulling you back and staring deep into your eyes.

"Thank you," he said, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly against your fingers, traces of playfulness wiped from his face, replaced with a genuine appreciation for your actions.

You swallowed.

"You're welcome, dear heart," you whispered.

***

You returned with a blanket just as Jaskier was pulling off his shirt. His doublet was neatly folded over the back of a chair by the fire, and his boots lay discarded on the floor. You approached the shirtless bard, eyeing his exposed form. He was still quite skinny and slender, skin soft and chest covered in a thick coat of dark hair, but he appeared fitter now, more muscular.

"Here. Wear this until the bath is ready," you smiled encouragingly, moving towards him with the large blanket outstretched and indicating a chair nearby. He sat, and you leaned in to wrap the blanket around his still shivering form, feeling his warm breath on your face as you pulled it over his bare shoulders. He wriggled cutely in the chair, getting comfy, his movements prompting you to giggle.

"What is it?" he asked, oblivious to the effect he had on you. In response you simply leaned closer to him, resting your forehead against his. You both closed your eyes, and he sighed at your touch.

"I've missed you so much, Jask," you whispered, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

"I didn't realise how much I needed you in my life until you left," you admitted.

"Don't worry, love. I'm not going anywhere," he said, voice a low rumble. You made the mistake of opening your eyes, and were met with an intense electric blue gaze, which was locked on your own. Your eyes flicked down to his party open lips, tantalisingly close, and suddenly you kissed him, quickly, strongly and filled with longing.

Then you came to your senses - you'd just kissed your best friend. The two of you had always been close, but this was something different.

"Oh. Oh god, Jaskier, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I-"

He silenced you with a passionate kiss of his own, letting the blanket fall away as he pulled you closer with an arm around your waist and a hand on the back of your head. He moaned into your lips, eventually pulling away.

"You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he smiled, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"Me too," you whispered, pulling him closer, warm lips back on your own.

***

Jaskier sank beneath the steaming water, groaning with relief as the weight was taken off his aching muscles. He sank down lower beneath the bubbles, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Just how long were you riding to get here, Jask?" you asked, turned away from him as you gathered a collection of soaps and scents from around the room.

"Oh, I don't know. A week? Two weeks? Don't worry about it."

You spun around, brow creased with concern.

"Don't worry? You were alone, without protection, on the road for two weeks. For what? To see me? I'm not worth the risk, Jask. You should have waited for Geralt."

"He was... busy, and like I said, I needed to see you - and you are absolutely worth the risk, dear heart." He did his best to look sweet, pouting and staring right at you with his intoxicating blue eyes. It worked.

You shook your head, unable to mask your smile as you moved over to the bath, setting the soaps down on a nearby table. You smeared shampoo onto your hands and moved closer to the bard.

"What- what are you doing?"

He pulled back as you reached towards him.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm washing your hair."

He glanced uncertainly at you, swallowing nervously.

"It's alright, really. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just go take care of yourself. Besides, the greasy look rather suits me, don't you thi-"

You swiftly leaned in, kissing him gently.

"I knew that would shut you up," you smirked. "Now, please," you whispered, "let me look after you for once."

He nodded slowly, and you kissed him again, before pulling away to sit on a stool positioned behind him. He gratefully sank back against the edge of the bath as you buried your hands in his soft brown hair, massaging in the soap. Jaskier hummed in satisfaction as you rubbed your hands against his scalp, forming a foamy layer over his hair.

He began to sing softly, occasionally sighing deeply as you passed your fingers through his hair. You poured warm water over his head to rinse the soap through.

"How does that feel, love?"

"It's wonderful. Thank you." he reached behind him to grab your wrist, pulling it around and placing a soft kiss on your hand.

You wrapped your other arm around him, one either side of his head, and leaned forward, burying your face in his shoulder from behind as you slid your hands down onto his partially submerged chest.

He hummed as you rubbed his chest, stroking a finger along his collarbone and enjoying the soft hair beneath your fingertips. You began kissing his neck, pressing your lips into the hot, sensitive skin and drawing a series of whimpers and little moans from the bard. He tilted his head, exposing more of his neck as you continued.

"Don't stop," he begged softly as you began to pull away.

"Patience, love." You shuffled your chair around to the side of the tub, before reaching towards Jaskier, turning his head to face yours. He groaned as your lips collided once more. You slid a hand behind his head, pulling him into you, and squeezed his shoulder with the other. His tongue darted greedily into your mouth, and you moaned. When you finally separated, he kept his eyes closed, lips parted, savouring the memory of your touch.

You stroked his face and he smiled, slowly opening his eyes. "We should do that again sometime," he sighed.

"How about now?"

***

Jaskier had finished his bath, which included lots of kissing, and even more touching. Now that your feelings were out in the open, Jaskier couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, rubbing your back, stroking your face, tracing his fingers - or lips - along your arm. You'd insisted on taking care of him, washing him with plenty of soaps and scents, gently massaging the mixtures into his soft skin as he hummed happily, eyes closed. As reluctant as he was to have someone take care of him for a change, he clearly enjoyed it.

Now, you were cuddled up in bed, beneath heaped blankets, bodies pressed tightly together. Jaskier lay almost on top of you, one leg thrown across your thighs, his bare chest pressed against you and his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, love."

"For what?"

He hesitated, pouting, searching for the right words.

"For caring. I don't usually... Well, not many do. Care about me, that is."

You sighed sadly, and kissed him gently.

"You deserve to be cared for, Jask. More than anyone I know. I see the way you spend so long looking after everyone else, making sure everyone's okay, but... no-one ever seems to return the favour."

He looked away, lowering his gaze, but you noticed his cheeks reddening and his eyes sparkling with fresh tears.

"I-" he croaked, unable to find the words. He'd clearly given this quite a bit of thought before you'd brought it up.

"Hey," you whispered, "It's okay."

You reached up to stroke his cheek, before gently turning his head to face you again. You met his deep blue-grey eyes, the flickering light of the fire reflected in them. Gods, were they gorgeous. Intoxicating.

"I love you, Jask."

He managed a smile.

"And I adore you."

His lips met yours again, and he squeezed you tighter, moaning into your mouth. You ran your fingers down his exposed back, making him shudder and increasing the array of sounds coming from his mouth.

When he finally pulled back for air, you took the chance to flip him onto his back, and lay on top of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, running your hands over his chest as you deepened the kiss, feeling him exploring your mouth with his tongue and humming contentedly.

"So good for me... I don't deserve you..." you muttered praises against his lips.

Jaskier shuffled backwards, sitting up against the headboard as you settled in his lap.

You continued to kiss him, leaning over him to grasp his face in your hands and pressing your lips down into his.

Jaskier broke through the moans escaping both your mouths as he began to sing pieces of his newest song, snatching at the words between ragged breaths and passionate kisses. You laughed against his lips, prompting him to sing more, almost moaning out the words as you tugged playfully at his silky brown hair, twirling it in your fingers. You finally pulled back, and he tried to follow your lips with his own, eyes still closed, outlined with delicate lashes set against flushed red cheeks. You sighed at the sight of him, so desperate for your touch, but stopped him by running your hands down his chest. You pressed a quick kiss to his nose, which he scrunched as your lips made contact.

"You're so beautiful, Jask," you said, gently caressing his face, his features appearing almost elven in their candlelit beauty.

He looked up at you with eyes full of an equal amount of adoration. His gaze managed to make you weak, as always, and you gave into those big blue eyes, returning your lips to their place against his smile.

***

You lay on your back once again, the crackling of the fire and Jaskier's soft breathing creating a beautiful melody in your ears. He lay on top of you, and you could feel the vibrations of his breathing against your chest. You snuggled comfortably beneath his warm, heavy body. His arms were wrapped around you, and the blanket lay strewn across him, leaving the smooth curves of his shoulders and back visible in the dim light. You stroked his hair as he began to fall asleep, utterly exhausted, but stubbornly continuing to sing under his breath, despite being so tired.

Managing to place a soft kiss on your lips as he was drifting off, he breathed a soft "thank you, my love," against your skin, before relaxing in your arms and settling into a deep, contented sleep.

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citadelsanchez · 2 years

Note

If you'd like too, Rick with an s/o that collects cute things! Like they fawn over cute plush toys and threatens people that try to touch them without permission?

The cutest prompt! Sorry it's a bit short. This is also the first time I've put Rick in a real world setting but it felt fitting for this one. Hope you like!

(Also side note: 'bbs' plushes aren't real, I made em up lol)

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

"It's not funny, Rick." You glare at the elder man, your eyes glowing in a burning fury.

His cheeks puff as he starts to snicker before he turns his body away from you to shake with laughter without being seen.

"I CAN LITERALLY HEAR YOU LAUGHING" you say, giving up and stalking out of the kitchen you were both standing in and back to your shared bedroom. Well, technically, your bedroom but Rick might as well have lived there too.

"Boooo, y-you're no fun at all" you hear him say, trailing behind you slowly.

Earlier, you had walked into the Smith's living room to find the absolute horror of Rick dangling two of your BBS plushes in his hands in front of Morty and Summer, giving them exaggerated voices. "I'm M-Mrs. Lumpy Fuckins and my owner Y/N won't brush my hairrrr." This was met with laughter by Summer and an uncomfortable "geeezz" from Morty.

You stood at the doorway with your mouth agape in shock before Rick made eye contact and immediately dropped them onto the couch. You had turned on your heel and locked yourself in his room for a while, giving him the silent treatment even after he portaled inside and prodded you to talk to him, with still no apology in sight in true Rick fashion. And he was clearly still amused from his inability to take you seriously.

"You're no fun for mocking something I love" you scoff, plopping onto the bed and turning away from him once more.

"D-don't be a sourpuss, I was just showing them your interests a-a-and being comedic in the process," Rick says, almost sounding remorseful before reverting back into his righteousness. He sits on the bed now, holding your gaze with a frustrated facial expression.

"Oooh yeah, so funny when I've TOLD you not to touch any of them. I have them arranged the way I want and you can't even respect me enough to leave it be. Don't you remember when Summer wandered in here like two weeks ago on accident and picked up Benji and Phoenix and I yelled at her without realizing?"

"B-because those are the m-most rare ones you have?" He asked and you were slightly surprised that he remembered. It symbolizes that at least on some level, he actually listened to you.

"Yes" you respond weakly, still feeling embarrassed about the entire situation but unwavering on your annoyed outlook.

"O-okay, come with me" Rick belches out, pulling his portal gun out to shoot a green swirl and unexpectedly dragging your hand with him through it.

You go to cuss him but stop when you realize that you're in a strange setting. Very familiar to you but not anything you were expecting from the portal gun. You were surrounded by neon lights on red walls and people pushing carts in all directions.

"Rick... why are we in Target?"

He sighed. "You'll s-see, just follow me."

You furrowed your brows in confusion but didn't hesitate to walk behind him. You know that he hates being in stores- especially ones like Target where there's an excess of ignorant human beings and overstimulating lights and noises. You could practically feel his skin crawling. And you'd hold his hand in comfort but you know that he's not a fan of PDA from previous experiences of your attempts at affection with him around others.

He leads you into the toy section and down an aisle when you see it. Pompa, the newest lion BBS plush that came out a few days ago, which you weren't aware of and only had dealing with Rick's antics constantly to blame.

Rick picked one off of the shelf and petted its head. "It is, uh, kinda c-cute I guess," he says before placing it in your arms instead. "I-I shouldn't have fucked with your plushes earlier, s-so have this as your reward for dEALLing with me," Rick burps out, standing a little sheepishly.

You reach up to engulf him in a hug. "How'd you know about this being released?"

"Just you know, a-ads and shit," he murmured.

You smiled warmly at the gesture and the kind hearted deep down Rick you know. "Apology accepted."

#rick sanchez #rick and morty #rick and morty season 6 #rick sanchez x reader #morty smith

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velvetcloxds · 1 year

Note

Could I ask for a Part 2 of tipsy? Eli and Reader meeting in the morning 🥰 it’s was such a cute imagine 🥰 can’t get enough of how sweet Derek was in that fic and the little heart to heart with Eli at the end 🥺🥺

SOBER | D.H.

word count: 0.8k

warnings: age gap, reader has a slight hangover, teen wolf the movie storyline- also peep the can you keep a secret gif for the ideal dilfyness- part 1

a/n: stop I got so excited when I saw this because I really loved writing tipsy

You woke up with a headache, one you had a feeling should've been much worse considering the state of you, you were still wearing your dress from the night before but Derek was kind enough to remove your makeup and save his pillowcase in the process. The night, for the most part, was a bit of a blur, not that you didn't remember what happened, but rather how, how did you end up in Derek's bed drunk, to begin with after you tried to be careful and how did the poor man end up explaining that to his son.

You could hear the two men in the kitchen, it sounded like they were cooking, trying to at least since they probably hadn't done much of that before, their meals consisted mostly of takeout, frozen dinners, and whatever Melissa brought over every now and then. You thought it only fair to give them a bit more time to find their feet and give yourself some time to get over the sheer embarrassment of your current situation by taking a quick shower, hoping that Derek had something that would be at least slightly suitable for you to wear once you were done.

"That's not enough sugar," Eli noted after he'd heard the bathroom door shut, happy he wasn't expected to whisper anymore now that you were awake. Derek wasn't as happy, knowing that Eli would not hold back with the commentary as he continued to sift the sugar into the pancake batter.

"It's enough," he replied even though he wasn't all that sure himself, but he was not about to admit that out loud, so he stirred it through one more time, frowning at the consistency.

"It's not, look, I'll show you" the teenager argued and moved away from the frying bacon to shove his cell phone into his dad's face, the online recipe clearly stating that it needed twice the amount of sugar that Derek used. "Can you read that or should I get your glasses?" he teased, earning a raised brow of disapproval that only made him shrug.

"I can read it just fine, Eli," he groaned and despite his pride, he reached over for some more sugar, ignoring the light laugh that filled the kitchen. "You better not burn that bacon," he added and was about to dish out another order when the bedroom door opened, and barely a second later you came paddling into the room, nervous beyond measure as you pulled the sleeves of Derek's hoodie over your hands, hoping the pair of them wouldn't look too hard at the way his sweats fit you in all the wrong ways. "Morning, honey," Derek cooed and you swore you'd have missed it had he not moved over to you, a sweet kiss placed on your forehead as a gentle hand guided you further into the kitchen.

"How's your head?" Eli asked without a second of prompt, ignoring the warning glare from his father as you smiled, a giggle that sounded more like a breath leaving your lips. "Sorry, I wasn't supposed to mention that," he backtracked but you just shook your head, stealing a quick glance at Derek before looking up at Eli.

"Eli," Derek sighed in faux exasperation but he didn't miss the way your body was starting to calm down, your nerves easing slightly at how casually Eli was trying to talk to you.

"It's fine," you insisted, a gentle hand brushing over his chest paired with the sweetest of smiles as you walked over to Eli, looking over what they were trying to make, gently reaching over to turn the oven down so the bacon doesn't burn. "Can I help?" your question was aimed at Eli, the boy in question smiling brightly at the idea.

"Yes, please," he sighed and showed you the very recipe he was showing his dad, pointing specifically at the part where it shows the sugar. "Dad is severely under sugaring our pancakes," he sounded exasperated like the poor thing was fighting a losing battle to which you giggled softly, dipping a finger in the batter and nodding lightly after tasting it.

"Can he read that without his glasses?" you teased and Eli was very smug at the repetition of his joke, looking to Derek to witness the reaction the comment would receive and his curiosity was satisfied when he narrowed his eyes at him, leaning onto the counter with a sigh.

"I can read it just fine," he argued and when you noticed the tension in the room you looked between the two Hales with a knowing nod, Eli was already laughing softly as he took it upon himself to find the sugar.

"I'm sure you can, bear," you mused and he wasn't at all convincing when he tried to shake his head at you in disapproval, not when his lips were betraying him, a little grin spreading out and tilting into his face. Eli didn't buy it either, turning around with the bowl to have you taste the batter once again, it was slightly sweeter than it should be, showing he wasn't all that fond of the instructions either.

"Too sweet?"

"No, it's perfect," you lied and Derek hummed, standing up to join the two of you at the stove, not even thinking before wrapping his arms around you from behind and squeezing your waist in the process. "It's perfect," you whispered to yourself, watching Eli spoon far too much batter into the pan, not even telling him to do otherwise because he was clearly enjoying it too much.

"It is," Derek agreed and you weren't surprised by the kiss he placed on the back of your head, tightening his hold and forcing you against his chest, knowing that the both of you might've underestimated just how easy this whole thing would be- he loved you and Eli more than anything in the world, so how could it be anything other than perfect.

"Hey, dad, if you could stop fraternizing with my sous chef long enough for us to finish breakfast that would be great," you were quick to jump out Derek's arms, bumping shoulders with Eli as you took your place next to him. "Do you want to pour or flip?"

"Flipping is more fun..."

"Great, so I'll flip then," he was very pleased with himself when you managed a mocking gasp, taking the bowl and spoon from him as he searched for the spatula. "You can just stand there doing nothing, dad, it's safer, don't you think so, Y/n?"

"Definitely," you breathed and your heart soared seeing the sheer size of Derek's smile as he watched the two of you. "You can just stand there looking pretty."

"Yes, chef."

"Sous chef," Eli corrected and the laughter that filled the room was something the Hale house had been missing for quite some time and it was something that Derek hoped would never go away ever again.

#dbf! derek hale #dilf!derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale x yn #derek hale x y/n #derek hale fluff #derek hale one shot #derek hale drabble #derek hale blurb #derek hale imagine #derek hale fic #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #right where queue left me #monique's writing events

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marinaiguess · 7 months

Note

💜💜💜 “i’m sorry you had to see me like that” sonic + character of your choice 👀

Thank you so much for this prompt, Chaox! I started this today and I'm posting it now, without a second editing round bcuz I need to sleep but I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't finish this today :) Hope you like this <3

Sonic Forces inspired. 2k words.

He's getting out of control. Fists clenched so tight he's sure, weren't it for the gloves, he would have drawn blood. His mind is hazy, vision gradually blurring as he tries to shift his attention from the echidna in front of him to anything else.

He should do that right now; he should look away.

Albeit, he can't.

"Can you repeat that, Knux?" he says, his voice laced with venom.

Knuckles takes note of the dangerous undertone—of the warning behind it—but doesn't quite grasp the severity of the situation. He crosses his arms, turning his head away from the other's interrogating gaze. Maybe he can't bear the look on his face, maybe he can't bear the fact that he's wrong. For just this once, he can't deny it, he should have been more careful. Yet another responsibility he had failed to take care of successfully.

"You heard me alright," He spits, anger boiling inside him. "He's not here, Sonic."

Knuckles can feel Sonic's gaze penetrating through his skull. From his peripheral vision, he is able to see the way he's staring at him, the way his jaw tenses and he realizes, it might have been a better idea to break the news in another, more tactful way.

Sonic takes one step forward and suddenly the air is thicker, denser; the room turns tenser.

Amy senses it and opts to act first by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, Sonic, please--"

He yanks her hand away without even bothering to look at her. "Stay out of this, Amy."

"You're kidding," Amy scoffs and she’s not sure if she’s reacting to him ignoring her or to him expecting her to just stand and watch.

This time, he doesn't hesitate to turn his head to glare at her and his emerald eyes have never looked more intimidating before, not to her.

Yet, she doesn't back down. "This is not Knuckles' fault, you know that."

He laughs. There’s nothing funny or humorous about his laugh, but it emits from the depth of his soul, echoing in the room as he turns his attention to Knuckles once more.

"Tell me, commander, whose responsibility was it to look after him while I was gone?"

"Don't give me that shit, Sonic. We couldn't really keep an eye on him--"

Sonic's forearm connects to his neck, pushing Knuckles to the wall behind him. "You couldn't?"

He ignores Amy's pleas, putting more force into his grasp. "Where is he?"

"How should I know?" Knuckles growls. "He's been gone for three months."

Everything goes quiet. Even Amy's voice fades out of existence as Sonic registers Knuckles' words. Without really intending to, he backs down a bit, although he’s still holding Knuckles against the wall.

"What?"

When Knuckles tries to push him away, Sonic doesn’t give him a chance to even touch him and he slams his head on the wall as a warning, his forceful grip returning shortly after, despite hearing Knuckles coughing. Sonic knows he's strong, possibly stronger than him, under normal circumstances, so he understands, even in this state of mind, that Knuckles decides to not fight back.

Good. He doesn’t wanna go all out on him.

"Where is Tails?" he repeats the question.

"I don't know, okay?!"

Knuckles’ scream is the last thing that’s heard in the room, inside the Resistance HQ. Silence fills the void, until Sonic breaks it.

"I trusted you, Knuckles. I trusted you with my little brother's life. And with mine too."

Those words hurt more than Knuckles could have imagined.

But Sonic doesn’t relent, throwing more daggers right at his heart. "Maybe you're just not fit for the job. Or for any job. You shouldn't be taking responsibilities you can't handle."

Knuckles finds himself unable speak, so Sonic does it for him. "I'm gone for six months and you're telling me the war is still going? Great job, commander. On top of that, Tails is gone?"

Knuckles coughs again. "Stop it."

Sonic’s fangs show as a grin carves its way to his face and Knuckles can't tell if it's a sinister act or if it's a coping mechanism to hide his pain. "How does it feel to have failed at everything?"

"Sonic!" Amy intervenes, not courageous enough to properly stand up to him, however.

She's standing still, her hands balled into fists against her chest. It's probably the first time in a long while she's felt this scared. She's never witnessed Sonic lose control like that.

Knuckles meets her gaze and reads her like an open book, agreeing with her thoughts. No matter how well Sonic knows him—well enough to use just the right words to hurt him—in any other case, he wouldn't have gone this far. Something about him is off, his no-die, no-lose attitude is nowhere to be seen, his hopeful, full of excitement for the next adventure eyes are gloomy and dark, his logic is clouded by concern. Even if this is about Tails, this isn't typical of him.

Those six months imprisoned in space did take a toll on him, however much he tried to hide it once they rescued him.

"He's fine," he reassures, getting ahold of Sonic's forearm with both hands, ignoring the way he tenses and hisses. "You trust him, right?"

"Of course, I trust him." he barks, immediately. "But we're in the middle of a war, commander. Eggman might have gotten ahold of--"

"You're--" he scoffs. "You're not thinking straight."

Sonic bares his teeth, his jaw tightening even more. "Are you saying that me being worried is irrational?"

"Yes, it is. The kid can handle himself, Sonic."

"You said it, Knux. Kid. He's just a kid and he's been gone for—for three months?"

"You've left him behind for longer than that before." Knuckles notices out loud.

"It was to protect him!" he spits on his face.

Yet, Knuckles seems unfazed. "What's so different this time around?"

Sonic's mind short-circuits. His eyes widen when he takes in the sight in front of him. He doesn't quite remember how they got here.

"What would he say if he saw you like this?"

The final blow. Sonic had him against the wall but Knuckles had him cornered. He may be right but Sonic would rather not admit that, for the sake of his ego not getting wounded.

He takes a deep breath, letting his arms fall. Knuckles is standing firmly on both his feet now, managing to keep his breathing in check.

Until Sonic approaches him, noses almost touching as he jabs a finger to Knuckles’ chest.

"If there's a possibility, even a slight one, that Tails went through half of the hell I did, I'm blaming you."

Knuckles knows he meant every word, which makes him furious; knowing that he was calm and collected enough to say something like that. Calm enough to walk away after that statement. He can’t just stand there and take it like a champ, resulting in Sonic looking like the bigger guy in this quarrel.

And so, he breaks, guilt washing over him like pouring rain. "You know what, Sonic? You're not the only one who's had it rough. While you were gone, we were fighting our asses to keep the world safe. It wasn't an easy task."

"Yeah? And how did that go?” He turns around to face him. “Ninety-eight percent of the world under Eggman's control and Tails lost,” He huffs a short-lived laugh, bitterness emitting from it. “Excellent work."

Knuckles wants to punch him, he wants to wipe that smug, sarcastic smirk off of his face to knock some sense into him (especially now that he seems he’s pulled himself together, at least a bit) but Amy steps between them, holding her arm out to stop Knuckles on his tracks. He could push her away but she knows he won’t.

"Knuckles is right," She states, locking gazes with Sonic.

For a single moment, she regrets it, upon witnessing the way something passes by Sonic’s eyes, pain written all across his face.

"Knuckles is what? He's right? By saying I didn't have it rough?"

"I didn't—"

Sonic cuts him off, waving his hand as he closes his eyes. "For once in my life I felt truly helpless but I thought you had my back."

Amy and Knuckles can only stare, jaws slack at Sonic’s confession.

"And you just… proved me wrong. I'm—"

His voice breaks, slightly, but of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Knuckles’ face softens and Amy approaches him, just a little bit. "Sonic..."

Sonic ignores her as he sits on the ground, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "Shit.”

He brings his knees to his chest, almost curling into a ball as he moves his hands closer to his face, inspecting them. Only now he realizes they’re trembling.

He starts rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, even if he’s using too much pressure it hurts.

Amy takes a few moments before she kneels next to him, a comforting hand making its way to Sonic’s back. He winces when it makes contact with his fur, arching away from the touch but one look around him persuades him he’s safe. With one long inhale, he decides to relax and accept the friendly gesture, despite it not helping that much.

It is sincere. That’s all that matters.

“We can work this out, like we always do,” She speaks after what feels like an eternity. “We will find him.”

It is wishful thinking more than anything, Sonic notes in his mind. If Tails doesn’t want to be followed, he knows how to hide his tracks. Especially with all the commotion thanks to the war happening around them, it would be ten times harder to get ahold of him or even a rough idea of where he might be.

But Amy’s right. They always win at the end of the day. Together.

Knuckles crouches next to him, patting his shoulder since he seems less tense now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” He confesses and Sonic turns his head around so fast he feels dizzy. “You’re right, I wasn’t fit for the job. But it was a real mess, Sonic. We were lost and outnumbered. Tails felt lost as well, helpless.”

At that Sonic tenses but allows Knuckles to continue. “With you around, we might be able to fix things.”

“Yeah, maybe I—”

“Under my command, though,” Knuckles smirks.

“Aye, aye, commander,” Sonic pouts, playfully.

“And,” Knuckles looks at the wall in front of him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like whatever you had to deal with back there was not rough. With the way you’re acting, I know it was really bad.”

“Meh, whatever,” Sonic waves a hand at him, grinning. “I’ve had it worse.”

Amy snorts and Knuckles’ raises a brow but they both decide to let it slide.

Sonic hugs his knees, his grin falling. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” He says, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s okay,” Amy reassures without missing a beat. “We know.”

Sonic looks at both of them, their smiles urging his own to appear on his face as well. If he feels his throat tighten, he ignores it. He feels like he’s cried enough the past six months; more than he should have allowed himself to. Good thing no one was around to see the mess the Infinite illusions had made of him.

“Alright,” he gets up, newfound courage flowing through his veins. “Let’s get to it.”

They get up as they nod when a slam of the door catches them off guard.

“Sonic!”

That voice. Sonic’s smile reaches his ears before he finds the source of the voice.

He’s safe. They both are.

He’s real.

“Tails!”

“I was so worried.”

“You worry too much, look! I’m perfectly fine.”

“Who’s gonna tell him he was losing his shit just a few minutes ago?” Knuckles whispers, which earns him a jab on his chest by Amy’s elbow.

#tehehehe yippeeee #this does remind me a bit of a chaox fic but:(this is not plagiarism i prommy #also . this was supposed to take a different turn #but here we are #hope you enjoy #sonic forces #hurt and comfort prompts #my ramblings #my fics #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #sth #sonic fic #fanfiction #long post

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vilevenom · 9 days

Note

hurt comfort for fem branch please 😭

I hc her as autistic so maybe male poppy reassuring her

Ik u don't really care ABT the genders, but I'm heavy projecting on branch cause I kin him and I am DYING today

Thank you SO SO SO much for writing it if you decide to

HELLO ANON!

I am SO sorry that you sent this ask around a week ago and I'm only able to give you something now. I also hope I'm not posting this too late for you 😕 (This is the first night on my vacation I've managed to dig my laptop out) I wrote this pretty quick, and I didn't give it a good read over to properly edit it, but I hope you like it, and that you're doing okay ❤️❤️❤️ P.S-I'm not well verse in regards to austism, so I'm not super comfy writing it. I used my own experiences with overstimulation and sensory overload to write this

It had been…a day. An overwhelming, awful day. And it wasn't even close to being over yet.

Branch had woken up feeling like today wasn't necessarily going to be a bad day, but she knew it wasn't necessarily going to be a good day, either. Of course, that had been before she'd even gotten out of bed. Once she'd pushed herself up and threw her legs over the side, she'd near instantly knew the day was going to be a struggle. The floor was too cold under her feet, none of her clothes felt like they fit on her body quite right, every light was either too bright or too dark, and none of the food in her bunker was appetizing.

Things only got worse when Poppy showed up to drag her out for the morning music routine. She'd gone, of course. She couldn't let Poppy down. However, stepping outside had proven to be the worst decision she'd made yet. The sun was far too bright, and everyone in the village was so loud. And there were just so many trolls participating in the music number, it made her feel like she was in a teeny, tiny room, instead of out doors.

Thankfully, once the song was done and over with, she managed to sneak away quickly to catch her breath and recenter herself somewhat, before Poppy found her once again. She was invited to breakfast with the Snack Pack, which she felt obligated to accept, despite her negligible appetite. She thought, perhaps, she could get away with picking at a muffin while sitting next to Poppy so the King of Pop could direct and hold conversation without needing much, if any, input from her. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case, as Poppy kept prompting Branch to speak. It was exhausting.

Finally, once breakfast was over Branch thought she was at last free and clear. She bid farewell to the snack pack and tried to sneak away, but Poppy wasn't having any of it. He appeared in front of Branch just as she thought she had made it to safety.

"CUPCAKES! Poppy," Branch wheezed, patting at her chest as her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. To say that the surprise had also caused her irritation and irritability to spike was also an understatement. She scowled without thought at the pink troll, a low growl escaping her. "What is it?!"

Poppy looked distraught at Branch's anger, shrinking in on himself a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me while I go take care of some errands around the village before lunch with Nova Swift to talk about an upcoming fashion show."|

Branch immediately deflated at Poppy's apology, though she still felt like she might explode if prodded just the wrong way. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," she sighed, rubbing at her forehead, "You know I would normally love to join you around town, but today I just-" She groaned and waved her hands through the air. "I don't know how to describe it. Today everything just feels like too much. I don't think I can handle any more…anyone."

Poppy blinked, obviously a bit surprised by Branch's response. Which was to be expected, really. What troll didn't like to socialize and make plans for big events? Branch knew, even after all the work she'd put in to being a better troll, she was still very much an odd one out.

"Oh," Poppy hummed, rubbing his hands together for a moment, before giving a little nod. "Okay."

It was Branch's turn to blink in surprise, not having expected Poppy to take her at face value so easily or quickly. "Wait…really? You're okay if I skip out on today?"

Poppy's face melted into a warm smile, offering a quick nod. "Of course, Branch. You've been doing so much around the village lately, you deserve a day to relax."

"Oh, thank you," Branch felt her shoulders slump as her chin fell to her chest. She heard Poppy chuckle and only jumped slightly when she felt his hand land on her shoulder.

"Of course! You know I just want you to be comfortable and happy."

"Thanks, Poppy," Branch hummed, offering Poppy a strained smile.

"Any time. Now, let's get you back to the bunker," Poppy said as he moved behind Branch to gently take her by the shoulders and direct her towards her bunker.

Everything seemed like it was going relatively well after that, and Branch shuffled towards her bunker with Poppy following shortly behind. That was, of course, until a random troll suddenly jumped from the bushes in front of them screaming about an impromptu dance party. Branch bristled as Poppy froze behind her and music erupted from every direction, while trolls hurried into the area to start dancing and singing along to the music.

Branch felt like her head was going to explode, quickly lifting her hands to her ears to try and block out some of the sound. She squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet whimper leaving her even as he breathing began to quicken, along with her heart beat. The world felt like it was closing in around her as she curled in on herself, crouching down and just barely resisting the urge to wrap herself protectively in her hair.

It took a solid minute for Branch to register hands on her shoulders again, let alone the fact that someone was even talking to her. She blinked a few times, feeling like she was clearing her vision of static until she could see Poppy crouched in front of her.

"Poppy?"

"There you are! C'mon, Branch. I'm going to get you out of here," Poppy said over the din of the other trolls in the area partying.

Branch simply nodded, watching in mild confusion as Poppy turned and gestured towards his back. "Up you get, come on," Poppy urged, finally making Branch realize that the King was offering her a piggy back ride. Sluggishly she moved, struggling to get her limbs to cooperate.

Once Branch was settled over Poppy's back with her face buried in bright pink hair, the King began to move quickly through the crowd, easily and effectively dodging around anyone that tried to get him to dance. Somehow, he managed to get away from the spontaneous party and got Branch back to the bunker. He didn't let her down, however, until the two were down the elevator and in Branch's living room. Carefully, he deposited her on her couch, quickly whisking away to fetch a glass of water, pressing it into her slightly shaky hands when he returned to her.

"You okay?"

Branch shook her head, feeling like her voice was stuck in her throat, unable to verbally respond.

"Okay. What would you like to help make you feel better?"

A quiet whine escaped Branch, her shoulders shifting up to her ears, eyes downcast, wishing she could force her voice to work, but nothing was forthcoming. She would love nothing more than to respond to Poppy, who was being so kind and caring, only to receive silence back.

After a beat Poppy snapped his fingers, causing Branch to jump and stare at him with wide eyes. "Oops," he laughed awkwardly, "Sorry. But, uh, how about we stick to yes or no questions? That way you can just nod or shake your head?"

Branch perked up and gave a little nod, a wobbly little smile making its way onto her face.

"Okay, perfect! Would you like a blanket?"

Branch thought for a moment, before giving a short nod. Poppy grinned and was off like a shot, returning not a minute later to carefully drape a thick, cozy blanket around Branch's shoulders. It took her a moment to recognize it was one of her favorites to snuggle up with. Poppy must have noticed one of the times he was over to hang out.

"All right! Now, you've got water already. And it's nice and quiet down here. Would you like company? And by company, I do just mean me," Poppy said with a little grin. Branch let out a near silent laugh, before nodding slightly, thought she frowned after a beat, opening her mouth, only to snap it shut again a moment later with a little look of concern on her face.

Poppy frowned, only to chuckled and move to sit next to Branch on the couch. "Oh, don't worry about the village. I'm sure they'll be fine without me."

Branch let out a breath, humming quietly with a nod, forever grateful that somehow Poppy could read her like an open book. She took a few tentative sips of her water before setting the glass aside, then turned a mild look of trepidation towards Poppy. It lasted for only a moment before she let out a huff of breath, a mild scowl of determination settling itself on her face. Poppy offered a lopsided, confused smile as Branch shifted around on the couch, tossing half of the blanket over Poppy's shoulders, before curling up next to his side.

"Oh," Poppy breathed, a slow grin working its way across his face, before he settled his arm around Branch's shoulders and tugged her more firmly into his side. "Yeah, you know I'm always good for cuddles," he sighed, resting his cheek against Branch's hair, more than pleased to feel her breathing even out where she was pressed against his side.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #trolls fanfic #prompt fill #broppy #trolls branch #trolls poppy #gender swap #things that i wrote

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

Text

Pink Scarf - Epilogue (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: SEX. FLUFF (!!). Cussing. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Oh, lord, here we are. THE END. It seems highly fitting that it all comes to a close on our man's birthday. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELVIS DARLIN') 💗 So here's some tooth-rotting, sexy fluff for you because I love them and I love y'all.

I have heard your requests for a paperback/ebook loud and clear (ahhh, thank you!) and can tell you I am writing bonus material as we speak and working on the process of self-publishing through Amazon. I will warn you that the physical book is gonna be HUGE (my estimate is close to 600 pages with the bonus material added 😂), but that does mean the cost of the physical book will be a little spendy (not outrageous or anything) because of the cost of printing. Just wanted to let you know in advance!

Also, I know in the past that people were interested in me dropping in for a Q & A type thing on Discord or Twitter Spaces to talk about Pink Scarf...is this something y'all are interested in still? (If not, totally okay!) Let me know in the comments if that sounds like something you'd want!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. I'm hoping to soon have a website and an Amazon page up and running soonish so you can follow my other works. I'll keep you posted! Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

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

I also want to give a special shout out to my flower, Daisy, @powerofelvis for keeping me sane (relatively lol) and on track throughout this whole process. Thank you for all your encouragement and love (and for listening to me scream into the void), baby! 💜

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I know I'm terribly slow at getting to them but I love every single one!

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Graceland, New Year’s Eve, 1969

The mansion you now call home still sparkles with Christmas decorations as you make your way through the throng of friends and visitors, smiling and laughing, sipping on a delicious champagne that you are positive is ridiculously expensive for the way it melts on your tongue. Everyone is rested and in great spirits, as 1969 was a monumentally successful year for Elvis Presley Enterprises and all those involved.

For you, it’s been a monumental year in many ways. You would never have imagined six months ago that by the end of the year you’d be in the midst of divorcing Jack, preparing for your new career as a backup singer, and moving into Graceland with Elvis, who you are wildly, madly in love with.

A whirlwind, to say the least.

Speak of the devil, you feel that telltale rise of goosebumps on your skin, that magical sixth sense you are now so aware of when you know that Elvis is watching you. You turn from your conversation with Joe and his wife Joanie to find Elvis gazing at you from across the living room with a dangerously coy smile playing on his lips and that unmistakable glint in his eyes. The heat of the look sets your body aflame, a flush rising quickly to your cheeks.

Lord in heaven, this man, you think, giving him a furrow of your brow and a disbelieving look back, only this man would be so bold as to want to take me in the middle of a party at his own damn house.

But damn it if he doesn’t even waver, completely uncaring that any of the guests might see the blatantly sexual, heated intensity of his stare. He calls it “that lean and hungry look,” and you cannot help the shiver that cascades down your spine because you know he’s about to eat you alive, party be damned.

And sure enough, he strides across the room as if no one else is here, and saying nothing at all, grabs your hand and yanks you away from your conversation. You briefly catch the look of surprise from Joanie and Joe’s smirk before being whisked away.

“Elvis!” you whisper loudly enough for him to hear you, “We have guests!” You manage to set your champagne flute on a nearby table before doubling your steps to try and keep up with his long strides.

He gives no indication of hearing you, though you know he has. But he is singularly focused, which sends warmth into your core and wetness already pooling in your panties because you know what’s coming.

He surprises you by not even making it up the stairs to the bedroom, instead pulling you into the half bathroom on the lower level. You yelp at the change in direction and then he’s slamming you up against the door while locking it at the same time.

Your yelp quickly turns into a quiet moan because his large hands and luscious mouth are suddenly everywhere, all at once. His lips crush into yours, then burn down your neck, sending fire into your belly, and you can’t help but respond. Your hands fly to his head, raking through his scalp. His hand grips the outside of your bare thigh, hitching it up to his waist, his hand slipping under the hem of your dress.

He rolls his pelvis slowly and deliberately into yours. He’s already rock hard, and the sensation of his bulge pressing into your core through his pants has you groaning a little too loud, considering you have a house full of people. Elvis doesn’t say a word though, he just smirks and places a ring-clad hand over your mouth.

That action alone has you melting into a puddle because you know, you just know how he’s going to take you: quick and dirty.

“You better be quiet, lil’ mama, or ev’ryone’s gonna know I’m fuckin’ ya senseless,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. You can smell the musk of arousal on him, the pheromones so strong they are nearly dizzying. He nibbles the lobe of your ear possessively. This action coupled with his words sends sparks showering through you.

You think you might come apart already, and he’s barely touched you.

His brilliant blues are blown black when he draws away. Free hand snaking up your thigh, his fingers first dance over your soaked panties, then dip them underneath the delicate fabric to graze up through your folds and straight to your clit.

Your eyes roll back, his hand muffling the moans that escape your throat involuntarily. He’s so worked up already, he doesn’t tease you long. Two long fingers plunge knuckle deep into your wet heat, the cold edges of his rings making you squirm a little at the intrusion. You begin panting into his hand as he so expertly thrusts and curves them to give you the maximum amount of pleasure as he stretches you out.

This doesn’t last long, though. He’s too far gone and much too needy for foreplay. A deeply primal instinct has taken over the man you love—you can see it written all over his handsome face. And you welcome it, even as you whimper at the loss of his digits when he unceremoniously pulls them out of you. You welcome it as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door. You welcome it gladly as he hikes your dress up to your waist and rips your lacy panties right off your body.

You gasp, hearing the tearing of fabric as your flushed cheek is pressed into the wood of the door, shivering both from the exposure of the air on your bare ass and for what you know is next. Soon after, you hear the clink of his heavy belt and the woosh of his pants as they thump to the floor and then he’s filling you so completely that you are clawing at the door for purchase.

He can’t stop the growl that comes from within when he sinks deep inside you to the hilt, bottoming out quickly. He’s impatient and does not linger, however, instead pulling back and thrusting into you hard, gripping your hips like his life depends on it.

You manage to keep your gasps quiet as he sets a relentless pace. Your entire body tingles, the obscene sounds from your joining sending you hurtling towards the edge of your own release. He knows your body so well, rubbing desperate circles on your clit that, along with the way he’s filling you, already has your legs shaking and abdomen tensing with pleasure.

Neither of you are going to last long. It’s evident as your breathing speeds up and the coil in your belly snaps, causing you to hit your climax hard with a strangled cry. The wave crests fast,and your walls tense and flutter around him. You love how he still can make you see stars, even in these circumstances. His hips stutter, the rhythm faltering, and he follows soon after you with a relieved and gracious groan, pulsing and coating your walls with his arousal.

Heavy breathing is the only sound in the tiny space. Elvis envelops you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your hair as he pulls you close. You live for these moments when he’s stripped vulnerable, his love so evident and overflowing, making even a bathroom quickie more like making love than you’d had in over a decade of marriage.

You sigh into him, and he kisses the back of your head. “Sorry about your panties, baby,” he whispers almost bashfully into your ear.

You can’t help but laugh, “At the rate you go through ruining them, you might as well just buy me the whole store, love.”

Elvis pulls out and turns you around, grasping your chin before pulling you into a deep kiss. It has you melting into his arms, but you know you can’t stay there long, not with a house full of people.

The swell of love you feel for this wonderful, talented, charismatic man is incredible. So many years of shared history has made it easy to slip into a comfortable life with him, so much so that you almost forget what your life was like before. It’s not without its challenges, certainly. He is still mercurial, and you still get locked up in your own head sometimes. The both of you are stubborn as hell, especially now that you’ve taken more agency for yourself in this relationship, more than you ever had with Jack.

As you pull apart and clean up, you feel incredibly lucky that things have worked out the way they have, despite so many years of struggles to make your way to each other.

Once put back together (though sure some of your guests will know exactly what was going on in the bathroom), you reach for the door. Elvis stops you.

“I was gonna wait ‘til midnight and make it a big thing, but I just can’t,” he drawls behind you.

“Wait for what?” you ask quizzically, turning around.

You gasp and your heart begins to gallop in your chest as you watch him sink to one knee as best he can in the tiny space. He pulls a little black box from his pocket. You’re afraid your heart might flutter right out of your body at the sight of it.

“You make me a better man, baby. I love you so much it hurts sometimes, and I thank God every day that He put you in my life. I can’t imagine tryin’ to go another day without you by my side. Now, I know it feels real soon, but if we’re honest, it’s been a long time comin’, and I-I-I know you’re still in the middle of the divorce and all, but y/n, would you do me the honor of bein’ my wife?” Elvis asks, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s both exhilaration and trepidation all at once, flooding every part of you. Part of you screams with excitement: Of course! Of course! Of course, I’ll be your wife!

But another part is filled with latent fear—fear of being consumed by another marriage so soon, still afraid that this man before you will love you and leave you like the rest. Elvis had said many times over the years that he wasn’t really interested in marriage, and you can’t help but think of that in this moment, as much as you don’t want to.

“Elvis,” you manage to breathe, “I thought…I thought you said you weren’t the ‘marrying kind’? That you didn’t want to be tied down? Are you…are you sure?”

You watch something flash in his eyes for a moment before he looks up at you again. He stands and takes your hands in his. “I-I said that cuz I didn’t think I could ever have you. I knew I couldn’t marry anyone else, wouldn’t be right. You’re the only one I ever truly wanted. I-I-I…you’re my soulmate, y/n. It’s only ever been you, honey,” he says quietly, laying it all out for you, as he pushes an errant strand of your hair behind your ear.

A happy tear trickles down your face. You know he loves you—he tells you every day. But this is so much more than that. You didn’t realize he’d put his entire life on hold for you like this. His soulmate.

As much as it scares you, you know it’s true. He’s right. This inexplicable pull that’s been between the two of you for all this time, the pull you tried so desperately to ignore and forget for so many years, is stronger than anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in your life. Every cell in your body yearns for him, and he feels like home. You fit together perfectly. Now that you’re finally in sync, everything just works.

You cannot ignore the truth that finding your way to each other after all these years feels utterly meant to be. He is there when you need him. He brings out a side of you that you never knew existed—in the bedroom, with your music, your unyielding love for him, even in the hardest moments.

The way he gazes at you now, full of hope and love, makes your knees weak. But part of you is still scared that it’s too soon, that you’ll lose yourself all over again.

Elvis reads your mind, sensing your doubts in that intuitive way of his. “The wedding part doesn’t hafta be right away…I know we gotta wait for the divorce to be final anyway. But whenever you’re ready, whenever you’re comfortable, I’ll be here,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours.

This sends a sense of relief through you, a release of pressure. Finally, you find your voice. “Let me be your everything?” you whisper, taking his face in your hands, your eyes searching his deep and worldly ones.

Elvis knows what you are asking of him, and he doesn’t think twice. His lips curl up into that beautiful grin of his as he nods. “Yes, everything,” he says back.

“Then yes, yes, I will be your wife,” you laugh, through more happy tears.

“Yes?” he asks joyfully, just to be sure.

“Yes!” you squeal as he scoops you up in his arms, pressing his pliant and soft lips to yours.

His hands shake adorably when he slides the tasteful yet extravagantly sized diamond on your ring finger.

And it sits perfectly, as though his ring was always meant to be there. You both stare at it for a moment, your hand resting on top of his.

Squeezing your hand, Elvis looks at you with a boyish kind of awe. “Are you happy, baby?” he asks quietly, his long lashes fanning out as he runs his eyes over your face.

A moment of déjà vu hits you. He’s asked you this before, many different times, and those moments flash through your head, reminding you of your deep history together. The history you now remember and share.

All he’s ever really wanted to do is make me happy, you realize. The thought sends warmth blooming through you.

You look up at him, into that handsome face that you want to spend eternity with. “Oh, I’m more than happy, my love,” you respond. And you are. So much so, you almost don’t believe it. Then you pull him down for a sweet, soft kiss. He drinks you in as if you are oxygen, bringing you closer.

“Are you happy?” you ask as you nuzzle his nose.

“Darlin’, I’m so happy I wanna sing from the rooftop,” he drawls, grabbing your ass. “I’ll marry ya right here in this damn bathroom, if I gotta. Gonna make you Mrs. Y/n Presley. Then I wanna parade you around and let everyone know you’re mine.” He almost growls the last part and presses his long body into yours.

You laugh. “Well, I don’t think we have to resort to getting married in the bathroom, but Mrs. Y/n Presley has quite the nice ring to it,” you say, smiling, putting your hands in his back pockets.

“I love you,” Elvis says unabashedly, suddenly serious.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, kissing him again. “Now let’s go tell everyone how I’m gonna make an honest man out of you.”

He laughs at that, a big and boisterous sound that makes your own heart sing.

And it will do so for the rest of your days.

*THE END*

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interested in me doing a Pink Scarf Q & A type thing on Discord/Spaces! 💗🧣💗

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

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

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03

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dairyminki · 9 months

Note

elle congrats on 300!!

i'm thinkin about cooler weather at the moment; could i give you autumn with mingi for a prompt? tysm and congrats again!! <33

✨️part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: pumpkin spice and everything nice

pairing: song mingi x gn!reader

genre: slice of life, coffeeshop au

warning/s: none

wc: 888

a/n: hello orion!! ♡ tysm for requesting ahhhh i rlly enjoyed writing this one esp the descriptions. i hope this one is to your liking tho ><

* reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

—

The sky is quite gloomy as you saunter through the wet asphalt road. A mix of yellow, orange, red, and brown leaves are scattered all over, the previous downpour having them glued to the pavement.

You got quite lucky that the rain stopped when you got out of work, or else you've been stranded at your workplace with nothing but the smell of leather and the sight of your almost robotic-like coworkers surrounding you.

It's a good thing you're out of that hellhole now, and approaching a quaint coffee shop, instead.

The bell by the door jingles as you push it open, the warm and nutty aroma of coffee and sweet caramel welcomes you, beckoning you towards the counter where the barista stood donning a brown apron over his head, his hair, a striking yellow and orange ombre.

The shop was bare, and you're betting, with all of the pennies currently in your pocket, that it had been this way since earlier today and the barista himself wasn't expecting any customers anymore to suddenly pop up.

You, being that unexpected customer, offer him a small smile as you proceed towards the counter.

"Hi! May I please have one pumpkin spice latte?" You state after carefully reading through their menu.

"Anything else?"

"No, that would be all, actually."

The barista merely nods in reply, and as he starts punching buttons on the register, you can't help but stare at him. Now that you think about it, his overall fit including his hair color actually resembles the colors of autumn. A giggle slips out of your mouth all of a sudden, making the barista give you a look.

Fortunately, he doesn't comment on it and just simply hands you the receipt, saying that he'll have your drink ready in a few. And so, you went to pick your seat by the shop's glass windows.

The sky is looking a lot gloomier than before, you take note. Although, not long after you've sat down, the rain came.

The sound of the barista's movements and the whirring of the blender and espresso machine accompanies your view of the falling rain and the dropping leaves from one tree branch to another.

The scene of the colorful leaves gradually forming a carpet on the road seemingly occupied you to a great extent that it took you a while to notice someone clearing their throat.

"Uhm, excuse me?" The barista, who was now standing by your table, says, finally earning your attention.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now but you seemed to be engrossed with whatever's outside," He says while he puts your pumpkin spice latte on the table. Embarrassed, you mutter an apology.

"Thanks. It looks pretty, by the way," You tell him with a smile after admiring the aesthetically pleasing drink in front of you.

"Thank you, please enjoy," The barista says, mirroring your smile and then off he goes back to the counter.

—

"Hi, I don't want to bother you but-"

"Oh my god, have I overstayed?" You panic, glancing at your wristwatch and finding out it's already been over an hour since you've sat down in this coffee shop, your drink perfectly empty. "I can leave now, I'm sorry. You probably have to close up already, right?"

It's not like you didn't plan to leave after finishing your drink. It's just that the rain is still pouring hard, you didn't get to bring your umbrella with you, and your house is quite far from here. You're not sure if you're ready to go out and battle it out with the ongoing wetness outside.

"Oh, no, no! I can't let you leave in this weather," The barista had the same panic lacing his voice and he's quick enough to make you take your seat once again.

"And, uh, I actually came here to ask if you'd fancy a few slices of this apple galette…" The barista rubs at his nape, giving you a sheepish smile.

For a minute you look taken aback, and just when you were about to say something, he speaks yet again, exclaiming, "This is on the house, by the way!"

"Wow, that's so…sweet of you."

"Nothing biggie, really. Just figured you'd want something to accompany you since your drink's already finished and I don't think this rain's about to stop any sooner, so," He shrugs, placing the galette in front of you. An aromatic mixture of cinnamon and baked apples wafts through the air, and it awfully smells like home, fall, and everything warm.

"What's your name?" You ask just when the barista makes an attempt to retreat into his spot at the counter.

"My name is Mingi," He answers, pausing for a little bit before he asks you the same question, quite politely.

"I'm Y/N, and if you don't mind, would you like to accompany me, Mingi? We could share these pastries while we talk or something," You say, already standing up to pull up a chair for him, because you're not one who takes no for an answer.

"Well," Mingi drags out the word while he looks down at his feet, one foot lightly tapping against the floor. "Alright, I guess there's no harm in doing that." He gives in finally, taking the additional chair from you.

"Good choice."

#mingi x reader #cromernet #k-labels #pirateeznet #Hiraya-M #ateez x reader #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #ateez x gender neutral reader #ateez imagine #ateez scenarios #mingi x y/n #dairyminkiwrites #dairyminki_atzmg #dairyminki's 300 milestone event #m: nebulousbrainsoup #💌—dream.with.elle

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mirahuyooo · 1 year

Note

Prompt 1 with joon? Throwback in the baby au hehehhe

001. “Can I come over?” + kim namjoon

— Namjoon’s baby now has an actual baby

word count: 1,338 contents: FLUFFY FLUFF, roMANCE, whoLESOME VIBES, established relationship (husband & wife), KIM NAMJOON as YOUR HUSBAND AAAAA, joon calling you baby ✋😩, Jimin & Tae being absolute menaces but they’re your absolute menaces, baby on the way! Y/N is planning a reveal soon uwu (Takes place before Baby) pairing: kim namjoon x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: ANON!!! I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGG I’m going through the last of my semester rn and I have to complete some requirements 👉😭👈 I’m back writing again tho!! I also assumed you meant the “Baby” imagine I wrote two years ago lmao I hope y’all like this one! 💖💗💕

The gold band now bound on your ring finger glints under the light of the side table lampshade. The sight of it elicits butterflies in your belly, along with a soft, giddy smile you had to bite back.

Seven months have passed since you heard the hushed awes and soft piano music.

Seven months have passed since you saw him waiting for you down the aisle.

Seven months have passed since you became Mrs Kim, wife to your other half.

Married life with Kim Namjoon, you find, has paradoxically changed and didn't change a lot of things in your life. Love with him is still so consistently devoted and wholesome that you hardly felt any drastic change between the two of you, and yet your heart has never felt more secure, more safe, and more loved than ever before.

“Joon, can I come over?”

“Of course, baby,” your husband gladly says on the other line. You can almost feel the warmth of his dimpled smile. "Let me know when you're here so I can come down and fetch you, hm?"

It was something of a habit that'll never die, you suppose—one of the many things that didn't and will never change.

Like before, you would go to his studio if you had time to spare, and like before, you would bring along some food for the both of you to eat while he gives you a little insight on what he's working on. A hand of his habitually rests on your thigh, as the two of you chew on jajangmyeon while one of his latest works play faintly in the background and you both share thoughts.

"I've been thinking of changing the bea—"

A ringtone sounds through the air, cutting Namjoon's words short and soiling the serene atmosphere. You lift your head from his shoulder and anticipate what the call meant as he picks it up, especially when you know the ringtone is the one he has for work.

"Hyung?" he says to what you assume is one of their producers.

You don't understand much of the conversation aside from the somber expression that seizes your husband's face. Namjoon's brows are furrowed, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he digests the words of whoever was at the other end of the line, humming in agreement and responding once in a while.

You have a feeling you already know what's going to happen next.

The apologetic smile he flashes you mid conversation confirms your brewing thoughts, far before he ends the call. “I’m sorry, baby,” Namjoon begrudgingly sighs, tucking his phone away as he rests his head on your shoulder for a moment, not wanting to leave in spite of having to. “I have to go to a meeting about the album.”

As expected.

Namjoon, ever an artist of his craft, still keeps most of his masterpieces under his sleeve until he’s satisfied with them, the two of you having made a tradition out of spending a night together at home to react to his work in full. (Mostly, the time is spent with you gushing and squealing over his songs while he sits beside you in a mess of bashful dimpled smiles and shy deep giggles.)

You press your lips where you could—the crook of his neck left a bit open by his loose-fitting sweatshirt. “It’s okay, Joonie,” you sweetly assure him, in spite of your crestfallen heart already sick with needy longing. “I’ll just hang around here, until you’re done.”

You two exit his studio, Namjoon taking his time walking on his way to the meeting when Jimin and Taehyung come to the hallway. Their eyes light up at the sight of you, wide grins as they skip towards you both.

“Noona! Hyung!”

Namjoon feels a bit better with leaving you, really, knowing well that the boys are great company until he’s done with his meeting. "I'll be back, baby," he smiles, lips pressing a tender kiss on your forehead before the two boys link either of your arms with theirs.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jimin huffs, light-heartedly rolling his eyes as he tugs you over to them. “We’ll be at the practice room when you need us!”

The two of them don’t wait for Namjoon’s response, pulling you along with them towards their practice room, where the faint thrum of music already reaches your ears. “Noona, I forget your name at this point, really,” Jimin is quick to tease, jokingly sighing and shaking his head.

“How could you?” you dramatically gasp with a smack to his back, the young man only laughing in response.

Taehyung clearly agrees, poking at your side to join Jimin’s little teasing game. “He’s right though. Namjoon-hyung only ever calls you baby,” he muses, the two of them grinning like they heard the juiciest gossip in the building. “Heck, I have no doubt the baby will think that, too!”

In spite of the blush that sets your cheeks on fire, you merely scoff. "Don't be ridiculous," you say as you shush Taehyung, “and keep your voice down, will you?”

Though you and your husband certainly have your fun, Namjoon assured you he was in no rush to have children. His baby fever has waned in the recent years, but you hardly had any doubts your husband wouldn't step up to the responsibility of being a father, especially to you, whom he swore his forever to.

The universe, knowing this well, saw it fit to give you its blessing to parenthood. Jimin and Taehyung were the first to know, having seen your pregnancy test results by accident before swearing to keep the news in secrecy and helping you plan the reveal.

Jimin gasps quietly as he realizes it. “Right,” he whispers, leaning in to scold Taehyung in a meager, secretive hiss. “We haven’t made plans for the reveal yet, remember?”

The man in question, too, gasps and covers his mouth, the three of you looking like idiots bunched in a circle together outside the practice rooms. “Oh, shit,” he curses under his breath, “sorry. I’m just excited to be an uncle.”

“Why would you be an uncle?”

It must’ve been ridiculous how your souls left your bodies for a moment, the three of you whipping your heads toward the familiar voice who caught wind of Taehyung’s excitement. Your husband stands, not far from you all, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Nothing, hyung,” Jimin—bless him—quickly pipes, covering the fact that their leader and his baby are going to have an actual baby. “What brings you here so soon?”

In Namjoon’s hands were your phone and a hard drive, which he must’ve retrieved from his studio for the meeting. He shows your phone to you, the screen displaying a notification from a missed call. “You left your phone on the table and it was ringing,” your husband says, “It’s from a Doctor Young? Are you still sick, baby?”

You thank the stars your husband doesn’t seem to realize what the call means. He must’ve not been able to answer it in time to know about the ultrasound sonogram you asked for your doctor to print out. “I’m fine,” you assure him as you take your phone, giving his cheek a kiss to further ease him. “I just went to Doctor Young for a check up last week, remember?”

Worry swims in his eyes as he looks at you, some doubt still lingering. If your doctor had to call you back, then there must be something wr—

A squeeze to his hand knocks him out of his stupor. “Trust me, Joon,” you smile up at him, before nodding to the hard drive disk that remained in his hold. “Besides, don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

Reminded of his agenda, Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, you’re right,” he gasps, looking at his own phone for the time. With a fleeting kiss stolen from your lips, your husband sprints off to another direction. “I’ll fetch you as soon as I’m done!”

God, you love that man.

#happy 4 years to me writing shit <3 #bts fluff scenarios #bts au #bts writing #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts drabble #bts scenarios #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon drabbles

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delirious-donna · 2 years

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You're Mine [Jujutsu Kaisen]

an: a huge thank you to @azurelyy for inspiring this premise, I hope Gojo lives up to your expectation!

prompt: how will your man react when he sees you getting hit on/approached by someone else?

feat: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuji/Sukuna & Fushiguro Megumi

warnings: jealousy, possessive men, tiny bit of violence, PDA, heavy petting, pussy eating, overstimulation, wall sex, sukuna manifests, doggy style, rough sex, slight Neko kink, marking

Masterlist

Gojo Satoru

It had started out as rather amusing to Gojo until it wasn't.

Leaning casually against the bar, he waited for his two drinks to be crafted. He let his gaze wander over to the booth you were seated at and smirked at the male that was leaning down in an attempt to speak with you.

His snow-white hair ruffled as his head cocked to the side, wondering what lame pick-up line the unassuming man was trying to ply you.

Fingers drummed against the smooth countertop, amused at your head shaking from side to side and the obvious 'no' that fell from your parted lips.

That's my girl, he mused silently.

The bartender was back with his drink order, he paid up with a generous tip and a smile. The smile shattered as he was met with the scene of the interloper seated on the opposite side of your booth, the side that he had been occupying.

Motherfucker...

You felt his stare before you could make him out in the crowd, crashing waves of an unfamiliar emotion licked at your bones and only deepened your frown.

Your admirer seemed none the wiser to his impending demise, still trying to get you to admit that you weren't here with your boyfriend, it was just a line to keep the perverts away.

Clearly, it wasn't working.

He made you feel uncomfortable in the worst way, and although you might feel sorry for him when your boyfriend did appear, you were breathing a sigh of relief as celestial eyes met your own panic widened ones.

"Here you go, princess," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach those hypnotic eyes, "whose our new friend?"

You watched as the man opposite shrank back at the imposing presence of Gojo Satoru slid next to you, an arm tugging you into his side with all the possessive dominance he dared to display.

"No one. He was just leaving, weren't you?"

Gojo tsked, sipping his whisky before resting his chin on his fist. He stared directly into the soul of the now ashen-faced man, who was clearly trying to stammer something out but failing miserably.

"That's a shame, he'll miss the show," Gojo cooed.

In one fell swoop, the powerful white-haired male had lifted you from the plush leather seat and deposited you fully on his lap. A large hand slid up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and curled gently around your throat.

Your back pressed tight against his chest, hips settling so your ass was directly over his cock and the other arm wrapped around your waist once he was happy with your placement.

You had almost forgotten about the clueless man, too wrapped up in the feel of your man and how this possessive side of Satoru was turning you on more than you thought possible, that was until he was literally sprinting for the nearest exit.

"Think you scared him, baby."

An answering hum met your ears, warm breath fanning against your neck as hungry lips pressed kisses to your throbbing pulse, making your head roll back giving him even more access.

The subtle side-to-side movement over his zipper did not go unnoticed, and the faint mewl did not go unheard.

"Drink up princess."

"To-toru - fuck - think imma pass out," you whimpered, white spots twinkling in your vision.

Spread out like a feast fit for a King, the granite of the kitchen island was no longer cool given how hot your bare flesh was. Snow white hair nestled between your parted thighs, one hand pinning you open as the other continued its merciless ministrations on your cunt.

Sparkling celestial eyes assessed you through hooded lids, yet his mouth never broke the suction around your puffy, overstimulated clit. The bud throbbed between his lips and yet another gush tried to force his two fingers out of your clenching cunt, but he refused.

There was no way of knowing how many times he had made you cum since carrying you in here, you were well past your limit but he showed no sign of stopping.

With a wet 'pop' he released your bud and lapped up the nectar that coated your thighs and his hand.

"Just making sure you're still mine."

Nanami Kento

Nanami hated being late, it wasn't a simple mild annoyance but a deep abhorrence of the lack of punctuality.

He was meant to meet you at the bar around the corner from his apartment thirty minutes ago, and he was already furious for being held up by the antics of Gojo along with the unrelenting traffic.

What he didn't need right now was to discover you seated at the bar wearing that too-short skirt that he loved so much whilst another man ogled at your shapely legs, drool practically hanging from his open mouth.

You didn't look at all interested in what he was saying, and that was the saving grace for Nanami's rising temper. Your short but curt nods in response to the man's questions screamed 'fuck off' in the most polite way possible.

It was time to rescue his damsel...

Glancing as discreetly as you could manage at the time on your phone, you let out a low sigh. Nanami was late and it just wasn't like him.

Worry was beginning to gnaw in the pit of your belly, only incited by the flashes of irritation at the man that you could only describe as a pervert. Not only had he seated himself despite you assuring him that it was taken, but he also openly leered at your chest and legs.

You wondered if you should try calling him, biting your lip in indecision, but it was all for nought.

Blond hair, broad shoulders, unreadable expression - Kento had arrived and was heading straight for you.

You were ready to scramble down from your stool and throw yourself into his arms, knowing that he would likely hate the obvious public display of affection but you were stopped by a clammy hand on your knee.

It wasn't there long.

There was a high-pitched scream as your view of the unwanted admired was obscured behind a broad back. His white shirt looked close to breaking point as it strained to contain the strength of your beau, muscles working as you wondered exactly what he had done.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting sweetheart. I was held up by an idiot," he soothed, finally turning to cup your chin in his large palm.

His thumb stroked along your jawline as the other hand landed on the seated flare of your hip. His hold was firm, deft fingers sinking into your plush flesh and kneading you just how you liked.

You barely took note of the man leaving the bar with his hand cradled to his chest, the fingers looking unnatural and very red. It was hard to care when you could breathe in the musky scent of your man.

"Where are we going?" you asked almost breathlessly as a strong tug pulled you from your seat and into Nanami's arms.

"Home, sweetheart."

Your spine arched off the wall, shoulders digging into the bricks as Kento held your weight as if you were nothing. He dropped you down onto his pulsing cock with fervour, swallowing your whine as he kissed your cervix.

Calloused hands smoothed your bare thighs, hiking your skirt even higher as he groped at you in desperation. It was so unlike him, to see him so raw and in need of you.

The way he had roared like a feral beast the very second his door closed behind your back, how he had forced you against the wall and caged you in with his torso.

"Ken-to..."

"Oh gods, right there," you moaned as his angle shifted to press against your front wall.

Teeth nipped savagely at your throat, marking you for all to see and the guttural-sounding words from his throat sent you spiralling over the edge of bliss.

"You're all mine."

Itadori Yuji

“Will you shut the fuck up, Sukuna?” Itadori yelled at the mocking little mouth that appeared on the back of his hand. He was weaving through crowds, trying to see over people’s heads as the King of Curses spewed his vile accusations.

“Your perfect little Angel,” he mocked, “she’ll be bent over the nearest dumpster, begging for cock.”

Itadori smacked his hand against the nearest wall, hoping to dislodge the menace or at least silence him. His patience was running thin and it only strengthened Sukuna’s ability to manifest.

He had a general idea of where you should be, waiting for him by the entrance to the festival but with the heavy crowds, it was hard to spot your petite stature.

Checking his watch he groaned at the realisation that he was more than a few minutes late now, and he worried you might have headed in without him.

The dark laughter of Sukuna bubbled in his head, yet it was soon silenced as both Itadori and the King of Curses spotted a truly ire-inducing sight.

Some random dude was chatting to you very animatedly, his hands waving around and oblivious to your stricken expression. He was slowly backing you into a corner and no one around even seemed to notice or care.

“Ours.”

If Yuji hadn’t been so pissed, he might have laughed. This was certainly a change of tune from Sukuna and obviously, he disliked the thought of someone hitting on you as much as he did.

For once, he was united with his dark presence and ready to bash skulls if necessary.

Where the fuck was he?

Once more, you peered around in hopes of spotting a head of cotton candy pink hair, but to no avail.

Your new ‘friend’ seemed entirely unaware of how uncomfortable he was making you feel and you just didn’t know how to extract yourself from the situation.

A jolt of awareness shot up your spine, tingles spreading to your extremities and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.

The man who stood in front of you looked sick, almost green in colour with eyes as round as saucers.

You whipped around to look at what he was staring at and came face to face with your boyfriend, or well, not quite your boyfriend.

The black tattoos on his face and arms was a dead giveaway to Sukuna’s fearsome presence. Although he had always scared you on the rare occasions he had overpowered Yuji, when he reached out a hand for you, you grabbed it with both of yours without hesitation.

Hastily you were wrapped in a tight embrace, spun around so you could watch as your admirer shook like dead leaves in winter. Two strong arms crossed your chest, hugging you into his torso as his nose pressed into your hair.

You didn’t know why this was turning you on. You had never considered that Sukuna even acknowledged your existence other than to wind up Yuji, but this felt… right.

“Sorry we’re late Angel,” the deep drawl that you only associated with the King of Curses said.

Has he ever uttered the word ‘sorry’ in his extensive existence? You doubted it given what you knew about him, it made your stomach flip and your thighs press together.

It did not go unnoticed.

When the trembling man had bolted, you weren’t sure but the tightness in your belly was clouding all other thoughts. It was impossible to concentrate on anything other than the way Yuji’s hands were being controlled to caress your sides, hips swaying with you as if trapped in a private dance in the middle of a street full of people.

“Can we - can we go back to mine? I don’t really fancy walking through this crowd now.”

Sukuna chuckled, nudging your ear until he trapped the lobe between his teeth and pulled. You whined for him and you would swear he purred.

“Agreed, the brat will be returning in a second. I’m sure you know what is going to happen now…”

You were so desperate, so completely drunk on Yuji’s thick cock.

Both hands cupped your tits as he draped his torso over your back, fingers pinching your taut buds and ripping high-pitched keens for him from your raw throat.

Yuji had flooded you with his touch, covered you from head to toe in his loving kisses and left his fair share of marks along the way.

Your back arched, allowing for the angle to shift and he was hitting repeatedly against your sensitive front wall.

“Fuck, you feel so tight and hot.”

You were so close, it really wouldn’t be long before you would cream around his cock and likely fall to the mattress.

“Yuji, Yuji, Yuji!”

His hips jerked to a stop and you could cry from the loss of friction. Yuji spoke whisper quiet against the shell of your ear, “Sukuna wants to come out Angel, he wants to know what your answer is?”

You knew he wouldn’t have told you if he wasn’t okay with it, Yuji knew that he was bound with Sukuna and there was little to be done about it.

A shy nod was all that was needed, sharp fangs sank into your neck before the King of Curses spoke.

“You’re ours.”

Fushiguro Megumi

Fushiguro wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him when he had offered to take on the extra mission, despite it being his well-earned day off.

Gojo-sensei had sworn it would be a cakewalk, in and out in less than an hour, he’d said. It was his fault for trusting in the white-haired sorcerer.

Six hours later and Fushiguro was washing the ick from his hair as hurriedly as he could whilst being thorough. He ground down on his molars as he imagined your sweet little face, sad and searching for him. It was high summer and yet his mind conjured a picture of you shivering at his absence.

Clothes flew on and a comb dragged through his hair as if it would do anything to his spiky mess but it was worth a try.

You were due to meet outside a cat cafe, a treat that he was excited to indulge you in. Megumi loved watching you play with and coo over his Demon Dog but he knew that cats were your true passion.

It was only a five-minute walk but he was already running late. His pace quickened as he turned the corner, skidding to a halt as he took in your adorable appearance.

You really had gone all out with the cat-themed clothing, all you were missing was a tail and that thought alone might have been arousing had he not been glaring at a man invading your personal space.

Bastard!

The man smelled strongly of sake, his step was unstable and you were terrified. He had spotted you whilst you waited for your dark-haired boyfriend to appear, and taken an immediate interest in your attire.

He was getting too close, with every step back you took, they matched it and you whimpered as his hand reached out.

“Will you purr if I tickle you behind the ear?” he slurred, gesturing towards the cat ears sat atop your head.

Your eyes screwed shut but the touch never landed. Instead, a cracking noise followed by a scream rents the air.

Peeking through your lashes, Megumi stared back with an impenetrable expression on his handsome face.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m going to kill Gojo-sensei,” he whispered the last part under his breath but you still heard it.

You launched into his arms, trusting him to catch you, which he did although he did stumble at the sudden affectionate attack.

“Gumi, you’re my knight in shining armour!”

Fushiguro downright blushed and it was adorable, his large palms gripped the round cheeks of your butt as you wound your legs around his waist.

The cat cafe was a complete success, however, Megumi was flooded with filthy wanton ideas and images throughout the entire session. You had sensed his dark energy, how it had reached out to coil around your limbs and caress your flesh. To say you didn’t like it would be a bald-faced lie.

You mewled for him, the dark of his room only heightening your other senses as your boyfriend lost himself in your tight cunt.

A hand groped for your exposed tits, the swell of them pressed up from the tight hold of the blouse that had been opened just enough to bare you to the cool air.

Long languid swipes of his tongue on your sopping folds were enough to make you grind against his face in earnest.

“Such a needy little kitten. You gonna purr for me?” he smirks up at you from beneath dark lashes.

His crooked almost non-existent smile flashed in the dim room before he suckled your clit between his lips.

“Need more,” you begged, fixing your lopsided cat ears and trying valiantly to coax Megumi into fucking you dumb. Your hips rolled, practically rutting yourself against him and the lust-blown pupils spoke of how affected he was by your actions.

Your stomach pressed against the mattress as Megumi flipped you over and was grasping your hips to raise your ass. The blunt, fat head of his cock teased your folds before catching against your fluttering hole.

He sank in on a low groan, making you see stars as he bottomed out in one long stroke. A hand gripped the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the pillow as you could only just see the feral expression on your beau’s face.

“You’re mine!”

#delirious writes #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #nanami kento #itadori yūji #fushiguro megumi #gojo smut #nanami smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader

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otakusheep15 · 7 months

Text

Obey Me Flufftober Day 29

Prompt: Gift

Pairing: Mephistopheles x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 469

A/n: Y'all, I have been so busy today! So busy, in fact, that I nearly forgot to write this lol. This might be a little rushed (sorry Mephisto stans) but I promise I tried my best!

Mephisto was not the best at gift-giving. He had plenty of money to spare, so he could certainly afford any luxury gift one could ask for, but that's as far as he got. He was terrible with sentimentality and usually just considered gifts pointless and miscellaneous. Mephisto was also not a fan of receiving gifts for much the same reason.

Then, he met you.

Your love-language was absolutely gift-giving. Any chance you got, you loved spoiling people with some kind of cute gift. You didn't have the most money to spare, but any extra cash you had on you went straight to a gift for someone else. This was especially the case when you met Mephisto.

At first, the two of you were awkward. You wanted to express your love for him like you always did with others, but you knew how he felt about gifts, and you'd hate to cross a boundary. Meanwhile, Mephisto was having an internal struggle over his own thought process when it came to receiving gifts. It was like this for weeks.

Eventually, you decided you'd break the ice in your own little way. So, you bought him a gift. It wasn't much. He was much richer than you, so you weren't sure if he'd like anything that fit your budget, but you were willing to give it a shot.

It was a simple gift. You got Mephisto a pendant in the shape of a horse. It was small, but it looked nice, not to mention it was shiny. It was the best gift you could find, you you hoped he's like it. And he did.

When you gave it to him, he was surprised, but he accepted it much quicker than you expected him to. Then, to your shock, he pulls out a small box. Inside was a small charm of your favorite animal. That caused you to giggle a bit, touched that he had the same idea as you. When you ask him why he bought it, he said that he wanted to try out gift-giving to see if he maybe liked it more than he thought he would. And, as it turns out, seeing you so happy with his gift did make him happy, so it was worth it.

From then on, Mephisto was more willing to compromise on gift-giving. He was still very awkward when you gave him a gift, but he accepted it graciously. Conversely, he became much more active when it came to getting you gifts, and the reactions you gave to each one made him melt. He was still hesitant to start giving gifts to other people, but he plans on working his way up to that as well. For now, he's content with this, and he's glad you were able to help him learn your love-language.

#obey me mephistopheles #shall we date obey me #obey me #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #mephistopheles headcanons #mephistopheles x reader #gender neutral reader #obey me mc #gender neutral mc

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helyiios · 6 months

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Getting back together for the prompts?

Surprisingly enough, it had been Benji who'd been away on some mission for over six months, not Ethan. It was the job, neither of them controlled it, neither of them went against it.

Their last conversation tore holes into Ethan's mind, bitter and acidic, mean, almost vitriolic.

He hadn't meant to scream at Benji. Really, he hadn't. But he'd been so exhausted, and his boyfriend hadn't followed the mission protocol, and then he'd put himself in some danger that could've been avoided, and Ethan had been so scared, so fucking scared that he still had nightmares about it, so he'd screamed at him.

He'd said horrible shit, like how he was useless he if couldn't follow instructions, that he was endangering them, when in truth Benji was the only one in danger, and how he didn't deserve to be on a mission with him.

Not that he meant any of it. He was scared. He was scared of almost losing him, so he'd built his barriers back up, and he'd hidden away, far from the other's cold gaze and tightening fists, pretending not to see the vein of anger pop on his forehead, pretending not to see how cruelly his mouth had twisted in a fit of wrath.

Benji had left soon after. From the building, and from their shared flat.

Ethan had come home to find it almost bare, save for his own belongings. Benji hadn't even left him a note, only his absence.

He'd gone to ask Brandt about it, to which the other man simply replied that Benji had gone on a long term mission in a country he could not reveal, on an assignment he also could not speak of.

So Ethan had rotted on his own, for six whole months.

He turned down mission proposals, didn't speak to anyone, stayed inside or went to the gym, ate one miserable meal a day, the memories of his cruelness still drilled into his memories.

Somehow, he wishes he could back in time, take back what he'd said.

I didn't mean it, Benji. I just wanted you to be safe. You scared me. I didn't want to lose you. Benji, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, he keeps thinking, thinks it every day for six months, he wishes that his regrets would make it okay.

The ringing of his phone takes him out of his lull, and there's a beat before he answers.

"Yeah ?"

[Benji's back,] Jane's very recognisable voice rings out, almost like she'd been fearing to pass that call. [I reckoned you'd want to see him.]

Yes, he wants to say. Now, I want—I want to see him. I'm dying to see him.

"Sure. I'm on my way. Thanks for telling me."

[Yeah.]

His drive to the IMF's headquarters is the longest he's even experienced, but the expectation was to be blamed, he's sure. He almost runs into the lifts' doors when he's there, waiting sagely as the button shone one after the other, showing the number 10 at last.

There's no crowd on this level, because it's one that'd been cleared to welcome his own team, with a few offices and conferences rooms.

Benji's back facing him, and he makes himself as quiet as can be, almost shy.

Take a breath. It's going to be okay.

"Hey," he says only, voice incredibly soft. "Welcome back."

The other man whips around with a startle, eyebrows raised to his hairline as he took him in, expression going from surprised to neutral.

"Hello, Ethan."

"Hope the mission went well," Ethan offers, wetting his lips, "nothing broken, I hope ?"

"Just a few knife wounds."

"Oh. I see. Hope they'll heal soon."

"I'm sure."

"Alright."

There's an uncomfortable silence that falls upon them, both looking anywhere but at each other.

"Six months' a long time," the older of the two finally decides to whispers, eyes cast down. "I—missed you."

Benji only scoffs.

"No, it's true. I was home the whole time and I didn't...I didn't know what to do with myself."

"The IMF had a few assignments to keep you busy, I'm sure."

"I didn't take any of them."

"Ah."

"Benji," Ethan almost whines, face scattered in a million pieces, wanting nothing but to hold his arm out to tug him close, "Benji, I'm so sorry, about—about what I said, I never should've, I wanted to apoligise but you were gone and I..."

"You said I didn't belong in your team."

"I didn't mean it," he chokes out, shaking his head, "I hated that you put himself in danger I thought—I thought if you left my team you'd be safer, but I was stupid, it was stupid and—“

"Yeah, that was pretty fucking moronic," Benji replies, voice prudent yet mocking, his eyes finally meeting Ethan's. "Like it would stop me. It's only worse when I'm not here to stop your stupidity."

"I hated not having you by my side, God, it was horrible I felt..."

Ethan tentatively goes to grab the other's hand, and he lets him.

"I felt like a part of me was missing. Like I just wasn't whole. God, I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll do anything to have you back, please."

"I...don't know Ethan, I..."

"You know I love you," Ethan whispers, and to this Benji seems to crumble, entire body melting under his touch, "so much, Benj. You're my other half. I can't do it without you."

"I love you so much, too, but the way..." Benji slightly shrugs, lacing his fingers with Ethan's, "I...I missed you, too."

"Let me take you out for dinner," the other suggests with a small smile. "Let's go from there. There's no need to rush it, I'll wait as long as you need to forgive me."

"You mean that ?"

"I mean it. So much."

There's a brief pause, but the awkwardness' left them.

"Okay. Let's get dinner."

#mission impossible #benthan #mission impossible fic #sae #ask

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aurorarosesposts · 2 years

Text

DP/DC WEEK 2022

Day 1: Worse Case Scenario Only

Hello everybody! I'm very excited to do the DP/DC Week made by @avaritia-apotheosis ! Sadly, I'll be doing one, which is this one, fanfic for DP/DC this week due to my busy schedule. I'm upset about it since I made a continuous story with the prompts in my head but maybe I'll do some quick sketches instead for the other days. Who knows ^_^

Also, the story idea for this prompt was made by @stealingyourbones so go check them out!!!

Sorry if there's any grammar errors in this, English isn't my native language ≥﹏≤

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and have a great day!!!! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

====================================

This is not how things should go.

Dick Grayson was responding to a hostage situation in Blüdhaven; Just a few weeks after being gassed with the new Joker Gas. Now that doesn't sound good and he was hospitalized for it but he got better! And that should be the end of it...

If only it didn't have side effects.

In the weeks that follow were laughing episodes akin to panic attacks. With research of the gas, some questioning and a bit of detective work, it turns out that the Joker purposely did that so the victims who do survive his gas will suffer either way.

Now luckily there was a antidote.

Unluckily Joker destroy it before anyone got their hands on it.

Now the people that survive would have to bare the fits until the Justice League figure out a antidote. The victims were to be held in government approved hospitals and monitor by the government and the Justice League as they worked together on the cure. Good news to the victims that were gassed, the gas isn't as potent or deathly and there's a 50/50 chance of the effects surfacing after roughly a week after being cured the first time. The good news only ended there though. Dick was hit, but he didn't have the side effects.

At least that's what everyone thought.

Now don't get him wrong, he was bedridden for a few days, but he did get better!... But then fates decided to be cruel and the side effects began just a week after being cured and the fits started; but the family didn't know that. To them, Dick Grayson wasn't amongst the unfortunate people who did. He was fine! And he would like to keep it that way.

Dick didn't want to make them worried about him. Tim and Bruce already have to spend countless nights just to make a cure (and still are for the side effects), his siblings worked around the clock so they can cover him in Bloodhaven, and even Alfred was on edge after the whole insident. Really, he didn't want them to know.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Sure, hiding from a family of detectives wasn't gonna last long, and the laughing fits weren't making it any better to hide,but he's a detective too! Dick was raised by one of the greatest detective no less! He managed to keep it from them, but now Dick suspect that some of them (mostly Cass) are catching on what's going on.

Because of that, he decided to stay in Blüdhaven to lay low. Dick wasn't allowed to be Nightwing yet, but Dick had a job at BCPD; he's not going to sit around and do nothing after all. Alfred may have grounded him from going out as a vigilant but his city still needs him in more ways in one.

And here he was, on the ground, laughing and wheezing and coughing his sorrows away, during a very delicate hostage situation. The hostages were held in a warehouse...

A warehouse similar to the warehouse that held...Jason...

Little wing...

His brother- that he failed-

He couldn't breathe- couldn't think-! He-

He hears shots in the distance but is helpless to do anything.

---

This is not how things should go.

Dash Baxter is just a simple man; a man trying to live his normal life as a policeman in the BCPD. And life likes to make things difficult then it should be, though that should be expected in his line of work. Thank the ancients that he hasn't gone gray yet!

The day starts with a call about a hostage situation. Before that, he was investigating a string of robberies in Bloodhaven for the past few months that might be -no, is- connected to each other and the hostage situation at hand.

How does he know?

Well, all the robberies were done by the same people and although they're cover their faces, the robbers were wearing the same clothes and masks every time. Sure, there were effective in keeping the robber's identities, but at this point, it might as well be their identities.

Even knowing that, the criminals were slippery little shitters as they constantly evaded them at every turn. Entil now; Dash got in contact with Detective Wes Weston (that fees so weird to say), an old friend and now pravite detective to lend a helping hand and figure out the robbers next move.

All the years spend doing conpriresy theories and stalking his classmates finally paid off for him, Dash thought. Though he wouldn't want to admitted that in front of him.

With the help of Detective Wes (Ancients it still feels weird to say that), they managed to figure out the criminal's next plan; that is to rob a bank and stop them before they get their hands on the cash. But just like slimy slippery little bastards they are, they got away.

And this time, with hostages.

Dash, who's on the wheel, his partner Dick Grayson besided him and Wes at the back managed to catch up with the criminals with his car to a empty abondon warehouse just outside the docks. Dash makes sure that they weren't spotted and let the robbers think that they managed to escape.

The plan was to wait until help arrived and go from there. However, he noticed Dick wasn't looking so good when they got to the warehouse, but he was focused on the task at hand.

That was his worse mistake.

"Hey Dash...? Your partner's not looking good there..." Wes whispered, opening the car door slowly, before shit went sideways.

Dick started to giggled, and the next thing they know, he started to laugh, which gave away the three's position.

Shots rang out.

"TAKE COVER!!" Dash yelled as he opened the door, grabs Dick, who's now laughing like a mad man, and took cover at the side of the car. Wes pulls out his Fenton Gun and starts shooting back, green goo hitting and melting away at the metal walls.

Dash takes out his walkie talkie and calls for backups as Wes keep shooting back, careful where he shoots as he didn't know where the hostages are.

The situation is getting worse.

"Damn the Ancients! You're so going to own me a favor!" Wes ducks down with them.

"Crap! This isn't good," Dash retorted back. He starts to reload his gun (the normal kind) and stars shooting at the criminals that he can see. He then ducks down to check on Dick. "Dick! Wha-" he cuts himself.

By the looks of it, Dick having a panic attack, although he knows damn well that laughing isn't one of the symptoms. He looks like in a lot of pain; tears freely ran down his cheeks, as he tries desperately to silent himself, his body was shaking and trembling. Then Dash remembers about the new Joker Gas on the news a while back. How it now has side effects, how Dick was visiting his family in Gotham that time, how-

Dick was gassed with the Joker Gas.

And only then Dash noticed that he can only hear Dick's maniac of a laugh and not the gunshots.

"Hey, D! Look!" Wes called out, shaking Dash fully out of his thoughts.

Shit, the hostage situation.

He feared the worse... but Wes was giving him a shit eating grin and he hears no more gun shots, so he looks back at the warehouse. People were coming out, all the hostages were free, and he zero in a certain woman with dark skin and wearing a hot pink top with a black leather jacket on top and white jeans waving at them.

He wasn't expecting to see another old friend amidst the crowd.

It was Paulina waving at them, with a big smile on her face, at the front of the hostages. Acting as a leader of sorts, she orders them to dragged out the robbers who are now tided up with chains. From his position, he could see that one of them has a pretty nasty black eye. If he wasn't still on edge, he'll find the situation hallarious and wanted to know why she's here in Blüdhaven. But now he know that the people are safe and Paulina mostly took care of it, Dash focused on Dick's laughing problem.

"Wes, can you take care of them for me?" Dash asked. He still needs to help his partner who's still laying on the ground.

Wes just sigh, "You so own me for this," he then walks to the group, no doubt relief as Dash is that the people were safe (though not admitted anything when asked), leaving Dash and Dick behind.

Thankfully, Dick seems to calm down and the laughing stopped. He's eyes were bloodshot red and tears were already staining his cheeks. Unfortunately, he's still giggling.

"I... I'm... I'm sorr-god I-so sorry-" Dick tried to say, but he's out of breath and still giggles between words. Dash feels helpless to do anything.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe, alright?" Dash knees down and ask,"can I touch you? At the shoulder?"

Dick silently nods. Dash sat next to him and place he's hand on Dick's shoulder. Dash hears sirens at the distance, signaling that backups have arrived. Hopefully the ambulance as well.

It's going be a long day.

---

Dash decided to stay behind to help rally up the culprits and to give a report on what happened. He feels a little embarrassed that Paulina and Wes did all the work, but they insist that Dash help as well as he could.

He also talked to the medics about his theory on what happened to Dick Grayson. He believes that Dick was gas by the new Joker Gas and kept the side effects from everyone after he was supposedly cured (which is true). Now that he thinks about it, every time that Dick looks unwell, he always excuses himself. Dash really was an idiot and thought his partner was just under the weather.

Ancients, he wanted to banged his head up against a wall.

After the paramedics took Dick away, and knowing he'll be in good hand, Dash walks over to where Paulina and Wes were to catch up on their lives.

---

"Soooo, about the favor you own me...."

"What favor?"

"I'm not bribing Fenton into giving you another cursed book, Wes."

#dp/dc week 2022 #y'all don't know how proud I am #with this one #I don't know much about DC or DP for that matter #so forgive me if their a bit too ooc #IDK I always think that Dick would hide his pain from other #and Wes to be a detective #lol #all the stalking finally paid off #dp x dc #dc x dp #Op writes

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