#(I'm putting this in the tag! I want to make y'all think about his character! Do stuff with him! Justice for Gideon!) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 11 months

Text

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances.

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done? he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals.

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you.

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not.

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone.

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls.

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down.

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body.

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

2K notes · View notes

14dayswithyou · 8 months

Text

💖 Slight 14DWY + Blog Changes! 💖

(16/12/23)

Leon will now move away from Corland Bay when he’s 10 years old. Originally, I never really put that much thought into it because it won't be explicitly mentioned in the game, but I figured I might as well make it more accurate now ^^;

Teo is now 26 (instead of 27). Again, zero thought went into this aside from wanting a wider range of ages for the cast — but now I want him to be closer to Jae and Violet’s age — especially considering they were all childhood friends and Violet was in the grade below them.

Elanor is now 30 and Kiara is 29. In the 2017 version, Elanor was originally the eldest sister, but it just didn't feel right to change it in the 2020 version. Day 3 will still be lore accurate, but everything on this blog will need to be retconned.

14DWY Purple (unofficial) will now be changing from #A14BF4 to #9D64FD.

Not a change, but adding more clarification: Angel will still attend university (and Jae and Teo will still be their university friend), but whether or not they enrolled will remain ambiguous! Day 1/2 kinda insinuates that they studied something ("Teo attended some of their classes"), but I wanted it to imply that they could've attended orientation and/or took "mock classes" after high school to see what it's like as well. I may change a few lines in the demo (in the future) to reflect that.

Egg

I'd like to (hopefully) try to remind everyone that whenever I write about Angel on this blog, they are gender neutral. Because if my ass had a dollar for every time someone assumed they were female because of the cutesy/pink themes or how "soft" I made the MC, I'd have enough money to fund voice actors, translators, custom soundtrack, and pay the $100 Steam fee /hj

Changed the crackpot theory tag into an actual tag!! About time sdghjdg

(07/01/24)

Also not a change, but to solidify Haruko's appearance + Ren's likeness a bit more... Haruko is supposed to be an anime character with pink/blue hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He's a modern day "sorcerer" (a reference to JJK, not a literal fantasy wizard lmao) from an anime called "Attack on Giants" (another reference to "Attack on Titan"); and is very kind, ditzy, and empathetic. All Ren has copied is his hairstyle, vibe, and demeanour. Ren isn't outright cosplaying Haruko, and it'd take an avid anime enjoyer to notice that Ren is attempting to mimic Haruko.

I'll make a poll one day, but I might change Ren's left sleeve tattoo to the spoiler-free placeholder I used in this artwork. A lot of people seem to prefer it, but I'll wait until the poll to make any final decisions.

I might also make another poll to see if perhaps a new BGM theme would better suit the demo. Because in my mind, the "summer/beach location" = acoustic guitar (rather than piano) — and for some reason I get lo-fi vibes from 14DWY??

I don't think anyone has picked up on this subtle shift yet, but Ren will mainly use "he/him" over "he/they" now (since Haruko is a he/him enjoyer 👍). [REDACTED], however, will still greatly prefer "they/he", and will continue to use them interchangeably.

21/02/24 — or search through Obsidian. (Future Sai here.... I have no clue what this means???? What??? T_T)

I'm gonna cut down on the Teo and Ren bullying on this blog (and in general). I don't find it fun anymore, and it genuinely upsets me when people put down certain characters to make others look better (i.e. "Ren has no ass which makes Leon superior >:)" Just say you like Leon... I beg T_T). It also makes me doubt whether Ren is genuinely a good character or not, and it's gross seeing y'all tear down people who genuinely enjoy Teo. Be kind.

(11/01/24)

Eventually, I'd like to turn this meme into an event in the 14DWY Discord to help create an actual landlord for Day 3. The current landlord has always been a meme-y placeholder (I thought the idea would be funny), but looking at how the game is currently, I want 14DWY to be more "serious". The current landlord will eventually be turned into an easter egg!!

Whether or not Jae had bottom surgery will now remain ambiguous. Everyone is now free to headcanon whatever they'd like, so long as it's not offensive or too OOC.

From now on, I'll also try my best to remind everyone that Jae is gay and Kiara is lesbian. I tried not to bring it up frequently because I was afraid it'd come across like "being gay" was their only defining personality trait, but I'm tired of people sending in asks that don't apply to these characters ^^;

I might move all of the curiouscat questions to this blog and archive the account. It's becoming too much of a hassle for me to manage 3+ social media accounts sgkshjj

#Sharing this now because why not 😼#I refuse to let it sit in my drafts any longer lmaoooo #I'll cut out the embarrassing logs though <3 No one needs to see me ramble about how the sprites STILL don't feel consistent enough #for the 14235th time gjsdjsdhgs #🖤 — shut up sai.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#to be tagged later

433 notes · View notes

whoishotteranimepolls · 6 months

Text

Fandom observation nicknames and funny tags: Part One Piece

Okay, one piece fandom it's your turn and I'm going to highlight your creativity. Again this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me. So expand post at your own risk. This one is unhinged

*updated as of May 4th with more tags and new characters

I have mentioned this before, but for some reason that is beyond me. One Piece fandom you guys refer to your characters as daddy and mommy (And it's in a kinky way) way more than any fandom. I think I should just start with the list of characters that have been labeled as such before I go into the creative names for individual characters. Because trust me who makes the list and who doesn't is actually funny.

One piece Daddy's: Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Benn Beckman, Killer, Sanji, Rayleigh, Roger, Doflamingo, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Ivankov, Arlong, Yamato, Marco, Izou, Smoker, Garp, Sengoku, Zeff, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora, Akainu, Blackbeard

When it comes to the One piece Mommy's: Nico Robin, Boa Hancock, Charlotte Smoothie, Charlotte Galette, Charlotte Amande, Vice admiral doll, Catarina Devon, Ivankov & Crocodile

Now due to popular demand the new category the One Piece Babygirls: Ace, Buggy, Sanji, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro, Ussop, Marco, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Kid, Law, Bepo, Killer, Mihawk, Shanks, Perona, Yamato, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Smoker, Robin, Nami, Vivi, Jinbe, Hatchan, Roger, Zeff

Now when it comes to individual characters there have been some interesting standouts but I'm just going to do some highlights because you guys have so many characters

Ace: "Depressed sunshine orphan boy with daddy issues", "ace has that grungy line cook riz you know he lays legendary pipe", " he got goofy older brother swag", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", "Ace my greasy fire narcoleptic king", "The narcoleptic babygirl", the greasy crusty desert rat. "He would be worth the burn risk", "my favorite fire donut", "something about greasy alabasta ace hits so different", "with his riz he's probably a walking STD risk but it would be worth it. Just look at him probably also probably got a couple bastard kids running around the grand line", it's ok he's still greasy in my heart worlds most feral baby boy he looks like he eats dirt I could fix him (force him to bathe regularly)

Arlong: "Y'all are too afraid to recognize the truth too afraid of his drip, his swagger, his saw nose, to admit that he's hot also live action arlong?!?!the only sexy fishmen," "arlong looks like a toxic florida frat bro," "I legitimately think there's something wrong with me sometimes due to how bad I want arlong the rancid personality enhances the appeal", "yall are p****" arlong is sexy put some respect on his name look at those lips the laugh the hair!"

Akainu: "The world's next top authoritarian," magma Daddy, "He makes donuts and I still love him"

Bartolomeo: "the man hasn't showered in probably a week he's obsessed with the strawhats he'll pee anywhere and he's an absolute dweeb he's like a stray mutt that followed me home look at his fit it's AWFUL AND FABULOUS he's gross and dumb and if something bad happens to this silly barrier- creating puppy i'll LOSE IT"

Belo Betty: "True story: Belo Betty made me, an Aroace woman have a sexuality crisis."

Ben Beckman: Dilf, "retirement blorbo", "Benn Beckman is a religious experience", "to me? beckman is the character with the most sex appeal ever. raw sex appeal. I would [redacted] if I met this man. just sayin", "He can ruin my life any day of the week", "Also lest we forget pre TS Beck a++ quality right there I just want someone smart who will also hit a guy with a gun is that so much to ask for", "This p**** wants what she wants and its always going to be Benn “back breaker" Beckman", husband material, "men are like wine in order to get a good vintage you want the one that's aged", he had that sexy blind and reckless loyalty about him", "Beckman is a fine aged vintage of wine as men should be", "DEAR GOD the things I WOULD DO to that man LIKE [redacted] and [redacted] because [redacted] and [redacted]", "idk how to explain it but he's so wife", "benn beckman? more like benn breastman ok sorry yeah anyways. said it before and ill say it again beckman exudes raw sex appeal like jesus christ. why would you not want to fuck this man ive had lesbian friends who said he would be an exception to them which is so real his tits are big he loves his captain he STUBBED HIS CIGARETTE IN A MAN'S EYE UNDER THE GUISE OF DEFENDING HIS CAPTAIN so fucking sexy mwah mwah beckman my wife you are so hot SO HOT. in conclusion benn breastman you will forever be a top sexyguy in my head oh also forgot to add. he canonically gets bitches which is so real. he could get me any day", "Oh dear I just realised I have a thing for older men with grey hair and have substance abuse issues I choose to believe lung cancer does not exist in opu", "

Buggy: Assigned clown at birth, walking disaster, "my pathetic sniveling wet clown", my Beloved, "he has blue hair and pronouns", Failboy, "the skrunkly clown", "my clown wife", "he has that fail boy cringe", "buggy has the stronger levels of foolishness and fumbling his way to success", "the cringefail clown extraordinaire buggy", "he is silly and pathetic like a bisexual divorced dad",

Catarina Devon: "my problematic lesbian sugar mommy”,

Cracker: "if Cracker just let his hair down he'd be unstoppable i fear", "get wrecked cracker", "I am so curious about the people voting for cracker let me study you please", "cracker getting murdered as expected", "you can't do my biscuit husband like that", "i find cracker really hot"

Crocodile: desert daddy, Babygirl, "He's like if tony soprano was trans", crocodaddy, crocomommy, Big titty mob boss, He's 8ft tall and I would let he ruin me,"Mr. Sandman", "the human sandcastle," "literally has sand in his britches", "son of a beach", "World's Most Expensive Sand Sculpture", "he's got 99 problems and his hook is one of them", "casino blorbo", "I would subject myself to sandburn any day for THE SIR FUCKING CROCODILE Anakin Skywalker don't go here because I WOULD love sand if it was like 8 feet tall and had a voice like that absolutely rabid he could stick his sand in so many places and I'd thank him crocodile is one of those guys i wanted to hate so bad and then went actually no i want this guy carnally Crocodile has some weird rizz goin on and i need to climb that sandcastle", "I'm so sorry but I need to eat crocodile's pussy", "With Sir Crocodile you can have Sex on the Beach. Literally. Plus he owns a casino so you could probably sip on the cocktail version too...while getting some cocktail.", "mafia vibes and style", "crocodile's got style. class. you will be wined and dined in the most exquisite way you can imagine", "He's got DADDY vibes", " One handsome mafia boss", "I love crocodile but also i wanna punch him and i feel like hes got the sandiest pussy/dick that shit will give me a rash", "my evilest baby boy", "Crocodile invented evil trans swag just saying", "im sorry az but crocodile was my dilf awakening", "in Crocodilf we trust",

Dragon: "the revolutionary scrungle dragon",

Doflamingo: "Dofy's got some wierd (potentially fun) energy but he would NOT treat you well he'd be awful", "The psychopathic pimp on a shoestring budget. Seriously dude, San Diego Zoo called and they want their flamingos back. That coat is so last season.", "fashion travesty", "Doflamingo dresses like an eye test and will probably steal your credit card by the end of the night not because he needs the money. because he finds it hilarious", "Mingo is just a spoiled frat fuckboy who's too full of himself to be interested in anyone/anything else", "a balding white man", "evil florida man my beloved they dont understand you", "Budget Pimp who robbed San Diego of their world famous Flamingo flock"

Eustass Kid: Pirate punk, "He's a sopping wet loser", "a man wearing eyeliner and nailpolish is by definition hotter", "my scrungy little fuck", he would also probably give me an STD and it would still be worth it

Franky: " Three words light up nipples"

Fujitora: "fujitora yes plz that like calm collected way he fights makes me KNOW hed take care of his partner real good", "have you seen how he slurps his noodles? I just know he could eat me out in ways I could never imagine"

Gol D. Roger: "the "Tom Selleck" of Pirates. He mustache'd the gold somewhere. You think these puns are bad wait until you hit my NSFW tags. Can't believe no one pointed those out yet, his name is a literal gold mine of innuendo. king of pirates? nah he's the king of rogering roger this roger that roger anyone he damn well pleases he has the D", "why does no one thirst after Gol like i do? youre all weak! cowards", "sorry but i am all about his dads mustache", " I can't be the only one that wants to ride that mustache"

Jinbe: "I wanna suck on the webbing between his fingers", does anyone else contemplate how soft Jinbe's tits are to lie on or is that just me?

Kaido: "beefcake beast of a man",

Katakuri: "I'm a monsterfucker at heart", "Katakuri is literally so good man he's a family man #he's badass he's got a great sense of honour you know I had to go for the mochi man", "donut king", "KATAKURI MY MOCHI MONSTER TEETH KING CHAMPION HUSBAND THAT I WOULD CLIMB LIKE A MOUNTAIN #I'M ALWAYS ON MY CLIMBING AGENDA WITH MY ONE PIECE KINGS!", "i just know this man would treat me right we love kata", "Kata definitely ticks that hot box"

King: "King is literally the most beautiful OP character you can't change my mind", "Gotta chose the melanin yknow", "king is so ajdhjdjdjchjd bark bark bark bark", "I saw King and decided he is my blorbo", "king of my [REDACTED]", " I know he's like 20 ft tall and I'm probably the size of his d*** but it would be worth it. I would gladly choose death by snu snu for one night with him"

Killer: "big tiddy murder boyfriend",

Marco: Bird daddy "Mr. Dr. Emotionally-Stable Scrungles", "surfer hippy electric blue glasses wing flapper", "DR. MMMMM", Fineapple

Luffy: "l am in the minority here I need luffy's gomu gomu no [REDACTED]"

Mihawk: The Vampire Pirate, Goth Dad, the sword father, Pirate Dracula, the big titty goth husband, "I think mihawk would treat you right. i want mihawk to treat me right", "I love his gay wine uncle energy", "I appreciate that he dresses Like That everywhere extra ass bitch", "hot vampire cowboy pirate", Morticia Addams, "Mihawk oozes 'step on me' energy",

Robin: "she has irresistible weird girl rizz", "big tiddy archaeologist gf"

Rosinante: "my insane clumsy tall dilf", "wife material", "he has cringefail dad swag", "rosi is everything to me actually. I would climb that tall clumsy king like a tree", "the klutzy mime", "he has that pathetic depressed clown vibe thats irresistible", "He's the epiome of strong but silent, he's the asshole with a heart of gold, he has everything", rosinante is hot tho and his clumsiness somehow enhances it", "I've said it before and I'll say it again I WOULD climb that clumsy king like a tall tree want to kiss him until his silly jester makeup is all over me too", "I am loyal to the guy who actively sets himself on fire",

Sabo: "bc he said killing woth lead pipes and then he just kept doing it its the crazy for me"

Sanji: fail wife, Cooking Daddy, "I NEED sanji to f*** me to tuesday and make me dinner before and breakfast after", "The man will feed you the best meal you've ever had and genuinely compliment something about you", "His fighting style is 'kick the problem until it goes away' and he chugs Love Women Juice", "he can cook and fight and he's damn fine while doing both"

Shanks: Margaritaville Himbo, "Dilflicious", "the deadbeat malewife wifi user", "I am a whole lesbian but if there were a butch girl version of these men I would let shanks ruin my life", "favorite guy in the local frat" He's probably a walking STD risk but he's hot and I'm a slut that has a thing for red heads, "the unwashed bitch", "LOOK AT THAT SCRUFF ON SHANKS the three scars on his face that smile", "my Scrungle drunk bastard", I would volunteer to be his next baby mama you know shanks got a few a dozen red haired children all over the grand line tell me I'm wrong," " The biggest fuckboy to ever whore about the Grand Line."

Smoothie: "ah...smoothie....or as i call her... one piece tsunade Imaoo", "ultimately my desire to be crushed by Smoothie's thighs won out", "SMOOTHIE. THANK YOU mommy long legs... gauhggfghgh......i want her to juice me pleeeeaaaseeeeeeeeeee /silly",

Silvers Rayleigh: "Silver Fox Rayleigh", "he's old but he can get it", "Rayleigh has that 'your daughter calls me daddy too' energy", "he's a gilf who married a literal queen", "rayleigh has spent his entire life SERVING CUNT", "Raiyleigh has that gilf energy despite having no kids", I need him in so many different ways I cannot list", "he has my heart around his little finger", "Rayleigh makes me howl like a dog I swear", "I mean come on look at his HAIR his GLASSES that incredible STARE even his wrinkles are hot", "Rayleigh got the 50 year anniversary in the bag idk why you would go for anything else", "helloooo????? Rayleigh is the hottest old guy in one piece please", "I would let rayleigh ruin me and I would thank him", "Rayleigh to me is more like a really smooth mead", "genuinely may be the hottest man of onep just like. objectively", "rayleigh you will always be famous for being the most fuckable old man ever. there may be dilfs galore out there but ur the only gilf in my heart", "that scene where Rayleigh gets out of the ocean shirtless After swimming to the island of women I actually said Daddy out loud",

Smoker: "Smokedaddy", "Smokestack. 'Ole Smokey. Smokin' Hot Smoker", "smokers allergy to keeping his Tits covered compels me", "i do love smoked sausage i'm sorry i'll see myself out", "smoker he's just so beefy like fuckkk and he's like almost 40 i just wanna be smokers lil housewife", "smoker is a beautiful lesbian to me", "smoked sausage I just *know* he's got more to work with than a cocktail weenie", "SMOKEYBEAR PAPA SMOKE MY KING i would smoke him like a chimney if you're pickin up what I'm putting down wink wink nudge nudge he really would kill my lungs but it'd be a fun time", "SMOKER PAPUCHO RICO I NEED HIM", "smoker is solid (despite being made of smoke)", "smoker. smo-yan. ultimate "guy who is allergic to wearing shirts" and honestly? he's so right for that. he needs to show off his tits! in a one piece man boob ranking he's coming number 2 (after crocodile) i said this in dms earlier today but it needs to be released to the world "fat d*ck fat tits fat ass he has it all" smoker is PACKINNNNN in every way he's genuinely so attractive, even just considering him physically and look at his sexy facial scar also (beck also has one. very good) and his slicked back short hair.....not to mention the things that are very endearing about him personality wise - he does masculinity like NOBODY ELSE. genuinely NO ONE does it like him like. he's gruff but he has a very strong personal moral code and he really *does* care..... the man's a tsundere and he's never been cruel to those undeserving like in his introduction - kids bumps into him, spills ice cream on his pants YOU KNOW WHAT SMOKER SAYS? YK WHAT HE SAYS? "my pants ate your ice cream." KILL ME NOWWWWWW HES SO FUCKING HOT IM EATING MY OWN HANDS and then he GIVES THE KID MONEY TO BUY MORE ICE CREAM. jesus christ smoker big d*ick big tits big heart i fucking love him good god", "something something vague moaning sounds I would call him smokey just to provoke him", "

Trafalgar Law: "DR. Slut", "He has them tattoos which makes me go fucking feral", "A stoner greasy boyfailure", "the edgy emo orphan boy with daddy issues", 'My tried stressed bitch", "law is hot because hes pathetic has tattoos and is the narrative's favorite punching", "i am DERANGED over a depressed formerly-suicidal surgeon",

Yamato: "I need my trans man big naturals...... I know nothing about one piece but yamato lives rent free in my brain and my heart at all times the only anime figure i have is of him and i don't even watch the fucking show", "he's new + he's trans + he's over 8 feet tall + he's a wolf god what more could you want?!", "he is filled to the brim with TRANSMASC SWAG", "it's transmasc dog boy swag for me he's my best boy", "Yamato's boobs call to me I need to motorboat yamato titties. whoa who said that", "yamato could crush me and i would thank him yes indeed", "I just found out Yamato is Literally a whole entire meter taller than me & that's all the convincing I need", "my canon transmasc king", "cant compete with is the fact that on top of beautiful yamato is just. fucking huge like i can not will not get over it every time i remember he's 8'7 in canon I'm like aaaAaaAaAAaAAAAaa kiss me on the mouth big boy", "as an aroace person. if yamato stepped on me id thank him. thank you for your time", "hes literally the whole reason i started watching/reading one piece

Zoro: "The President of the strawhat's local big titty committee", "The king of boobs", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", I would probably get an STD but it would be worth it, "his stupidity and gay attire make him very appealing", canonically the biggest tits in one piece, He got them big naturals, "Big honkabadonkaroo hoinkybadinkirs massive man tiddies Zoro", "Zoro oozes 'I won't let anyone hurt you' energy", "zoro is hot because of his big naturals

Zeff: "He will wine and dine me before leaving me lovingly bedridden the day after. And he actually takes care of his kid", "Zeff is honorable and can cook and clean and bathes and almost dies for a kid that's not his and then adopts him" He's got line cook energy. If you know you know

I definitely know I'm going to have to add to this since there's so many more characters and you all are definitely going to get more creative after seeing the list.

And a few observations. Why did Sanji make the daddy list and not Zoro? Characters that I thought would be short cliff notes turned into some of the longest sections And characters I thought would have some of the longest sections turned into some of the shortest ones. And I still think this was worse theyn JJK I just forget how unhinged this fandom can be because your unhinged craziness is dispersed amongst so many characters. And I haven't decided which fandom's next.

I now have my answer on why Sanji made the list and not Zoro. Overall the fandom is just thirsty so very thirsty. Hence the many updates to this list

Commentary added as of May 4th.

Characters that I never thought I would ever add to this post are on here and I am so confused. When I started this blog, I was warned that the JJK fandom was unhinged horny and thirsty AF. But in my opinion, the one piece fandom is much worse. Just look at this post for proof. One Piece you guys are definitely the thirstiest fandom by far I mean Catherine Devon has a section. You guys just hide it better than the JJK Fandom. Plus I do regret challenging a few of you to come up with tags as a joke because you definitely delivered

#poll analysis #fandom trends #fandom #fandom culture #not a poll #one piece #nicknames and funny tags #whoishotteranimepolls

275 notes · View notes

ambrosialdesire · 2 months

Note

Can I request yandere porco x reader who doesn't take him seriously/ isn't afraid of him or being bratty or whatever so he transforms to scare her

hellion

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 porco x fem!reader word count: 5.9k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, past + current human-trafficking/purchase mentions, forced feminization/infantilization, stockholm syndrome development, forced proximity, torture/violence mentions (choking, starvation, drowning, tying up), drugging (sedation), prey & predator vibes, kinda psychological horror?, humiliation, slight praise, degradation, slight gaslighting, kinda mindbreaky, all characters are 18+ synopsis: you were an impulse purchase that he never thought he'd make before, and although he doesn't regret it, he's having a difficult time trying to soothe your feisty spirit. who knew that all it took was one transformation and a chase you'll never forget? a/n: i'm gonna be so fr idk how to write bratty characters LOL i rarely read bratty readers in general so i'm really free-balling this 💀 kinda simple and to the point compared to my other fics, esp since i've never wrote for porco before so this is like testing the waters and most likely SUPER ooc. it's also more of a psychological fic since i'm not in the mood of writing complete nsfw haha but i hope you enjoyed this anon! sorry it also took so long to be done but then took me like three days to make and edit 😅 (i still think it's a little sloppy, esp the end BUT that's what anon questions are for so i can sorta explain and piece it together more lol) again, hope y'all enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

He hated when you got like this, putting up a constant nonsensical fight against him.

You'd be a perfect candidate to be his successor from the way you bite down into his skin when he tried to touch you, scratching up his face when he got too close, and always almost managing to slip through his grasp to dash towards the open basement door before he tugged the chain wrapped around your throat back towards him, watching you bare your teeth at him angrily. You were truly a wild animal, that's why he chose you in the first place.

Porco wanted to tame this wild spirit of yours, simply for the fact to see if he could.

Little progress was made, he made your purchase not long ago in the slums of Liberio, where the truly wicked and evil roamed to sell and purchase anything deemed illegal by the Marleyan government. As much as he refused to take these kinds of assignments, preferring to be back on the battlefield with Zeke and Pieck, Porco was already in deep waters for fighting with Reiner again. Not his fault that the Vice Captain's face was so punchable. Thus, here he was, being forced to shut one of the operations down that was said to involve a human-trafficking ring. Down he went alone in disguise, shuffling through the disgusting sweaty bodies of devil scum drooling over a piece of fresh meat on the stage.

He remembered got a good view of the bidding, eyeing each fearful chained-up person with boredom until you were pulled up. God, you really were the star of the stage. Two burly men had to tug your fighting body onto the crumbling wooden stage, a mixed sound of what could be a snarl and screech emerging through your cracked and bruised lips as you refused to move any further. You put up a good fight against the henchmen, the crowd jeering at the display of tug-o-war.

Once they managed to get you to the middle, the auctioneer started to ramble on about your pricing. Your hands may be wrapped in cloth and tied together, but the minute he neared you to show you off, you struck him with a mean uppercut, almost pouncing on him once he fell over before the two men held you back. Even then, you were thrashing around on your wounded feet, spitting out curses and howls at the fuckers beneath you, telling them that you'd hope they'd all burn and rot in hell.

He's the only one that snorted at that statement, feeling all eyes on him.

Porco really wasn't any different from those around him as he raised his hand up, offering over a thousand for the wild girl, more than what the other fucks around him could possibly afford. It won't make a dent in his bank account either because once he takes you home, the authorities would've already been called to the place. He gets to keep his money and you, while Marley gets rid of more scum; a two in one deal. You glared down at him, a burning fire settling deep within the darks of your pupils as he grinned back in return.

You were going to be a fun little purchase, that he's sure of.

He didn't really want to, but considering that you were a snappy little thing, you had to be down in the basement of his home until he managed to get your temper under control. The chain was long enough for you to reach the bathroom down there from the bed, but not long enough to reach the door. Once you managed to slightly calm down, realizing that your new "owner" was unfazed by your act as he leaned against the wall, you cautiously settled on the bed. You were still tense, unsure of what his intentions are.

"You got a name?" Porco started, finally breaking the silence as he crossed over his arms.

"You have my papers, don't you?" Your eyes squinted at him, the raspy retort coming quick out your mouth. He did, but he didn't bother looking at them just yet.

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall, slowly stepping closer to you. "Snarky one, aren'tcha? Just tryna be a little civil here."

"Civility? Don't make me laugh. Buddy, you're the one that bought me. I think we both know that any sort of civility you had has been long gone the moment you raised your stinkin' fucking hand in the auction and brought me down here." If your temper wasn't enough indication of a need of reformation, your mouth definitely was.

"I'm surprised you even lasted that long in the slums with that tongue and attitude of yours, most would've been turned into chopped meat without even a second thought." You were about to say something back before he slammed his hand into your face, pushing your head into the bed and prying your mouth open with his fingers. A gurgle of a scream erupted out of your throat as you struggled to push him off you, but no dice.

"But I'm not like most. Me? I could crush your skull whenever I want, maybe slowly pull each of your limbs apart so you'll feel each tendon and ligament rip away from your sorry torso." Porco pushed harder until you got the message, silencing yourself as your face ached and throbbed from the pressure, yet your eyes still held that same vindictiveness from the auction that never seemed to quite be quenched. Your jaw abruptly closed around his fingers, a pained hiss slipping out of his lips as the pearly whites grinded into his skin.

He's going to relish seeing that light die from you, when you finally realize that he's the sole reason of your living, that you should've been grateful from the start that he's the one that bought you instead of the beer-gut ridden trash that wasted away in the slums.

Porco finally removed his hand out of your mouth, drool and teeth indentations staining his fingers. Light steam was coming off of them, the superficial wounds closing up. He knew you caught that, eyes focused on his hand.

"Now, get some rest. Training begins tomorrow."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

When he said training, he meant torture.

That's what you thought as you experienced every debilitating and humiliating ritual he forced onto you every day. You eventually learned his name because of someone saying it upstairs — God you wished that the floors above were as soundproof as the basement's walls— Porco, but you called him 'piggy' sometimes, despite him trying to train you into saying sir. Simple, but it got him irritated real fast.

Porco was a strange man, you knew he was definitely not like the other men you've came across in your imprisoned life. Every wound you made on his person, no matter how deep you curled your nails into him or bite down as hard as you possibly could, he was left unblemished. Not even a fading scar or lasting indent, it was as if you've never injured him in the first place.

He bled, the taste of iron familiar on your tastebuds, but it really was like nothing occurred after a few minutes. You knew that he healed fast too, that weird steam came out of the wounds right after you inflicted it from what you could see with the lantern light, but you don't know why it did. Were you so out of touch from the outside for so long that new medical advancements were made?

He also disappeared for short periods of time, leaving you occasionally starving if he didn't leave enough food beforehand and surprisingly bored; he was really your only company nowadays, so it was quite frustrating to come to the conclusion that you'd even miss the bastard despite the shit he's made you go through. Once Porco came back though, he'd be a little nicer to you but that would last for roughly a week once you gotten sick of his company again.

He only sedated you when he needed your complete compliance or when he deemed you too much, your head rolling around weakly as he undresses and bathes you with him in the tub, the heightened sensation of calloused hands brushing against every inch of your skin. You may be out of it, but every other sensation was magnified. It was the only peace the two of you got with each other, even if you weren't a truly willing participant.

Porco was also quiet when it came to this activity, the steam and heat of the tub creating a slight flush on his tanned cheeks as he leaned back against the porcelain. His normally gelled-back blond hair would be damp and falling over his face, expression lax. You thought he was on the completely lankier side before since you rarely see him without the green coat, but no, he was quite muscular despite being pretty slender.

It made sense, he's lifted and thrown you like you weighed absolutely nothing, holding you down without much struggle, and letting you exhaust yourself while he looked completely normal.

He seemed disinterested in each other's nudity, though you did notice the first few times when he started the bathing routine that he took in every little detail of your body, eyes wandering more than usual. It's not like you could've stopped him and he never touched you sexually, only touching your privates to clean those areas. You've accidentally let out a quietly hitched breath here and there when he brushed those digits of his in-between your pussy, your drugged mind struggling to comprehend the feeling. You believed that he never noticed during those mishaps, not bothered in the slightest during it but whenever he got out of the tub first, it was pretty obvious he'd be partially aroused.

You wouldn't say that you were completely innocent in the act of staring at the other either, you've spotted his cock more than a few times and were slightly internally glad that he never took it for a spin against you. He must be a show-er more than a grower (if he was any lengthier hard, you might be in trouble), but he was notably bigger than the other disgusting men you've came across. Thank god for that, at least. It was finally nice looking at a man that wasn't built like a water buffalo in denial of balding and having the smallest dick around.

As time passed by, you feel like you confirmed your suspicions that he never really was interested in using you for any sexual needs, he was more into seeing how much it would take for you to break. Maybe he's done this to others to get his rocks off, but you'd never give into the sick man's perversions.

One thing that was prominent you've noticed while in his care was that he rarely made you do anything by yourself. He's the one that fed you with you on his lap, clothed you in stupidly feminine outfits from the start of the day to the night, bathed you alongside him. He cleaned and dressed any wounds you inflicted on yourself, but left surface scratches and bruises alone. Porco was in complete control and if you didn't let him take the reins, that's when the punishments rolled in.

Balancing books on your head as you stood on your tiptoes, if any of them fell or if you went back on your heels, he'd hit the back of your calves hard with a riding crop and restart the entire thing. Forcing your head over a bucket of freezing cold water, asking you difficult questions with no right answers to them, and pushing you down into it when you said anything that he didn't want to hear. He choked you out and left you intentionally starved for days when you refused to eat what he made, tied up and blindfolded in a tight closet with no indication of how long time had passed because you didn't want to wear what he chose, anything to ensure that you've learned your lesson.

You didn't, of course you never did. Whenever he asked if you had enough, you only just laughed at him and spat at his face, the punishments only ending once he got tired of it. Your stubborn attitude was the only thing keeping you sane in this world of yours.

No matter how much you were forced to endure endless embarrassment and shame, you'll never grovel or beg for mercy, not even shedding a tear for the agonizing pain you felt as you laid on the scratchy mattress every night. And besides, he wasn't the only one who tried and he most certainly would be the last once you figured out how to get out of here.

You felt a jab to your stomach, abruptly waking you from your short rest. The lights weren't even turned on, but even you knew that the next horrid day has just begun, a flashlight blinding you next.

"Morning sweetheart, you know what time it is? It's 3 in the morning, nice and early for our next session. Are you going to be good and let me put your outfit on?" The nicknames only started a few weeks ago, just because you were being obedient and compliant to his demands. It's to make you feel nice, to think that's what you should be doing to get on his good side.

Fuck, he's really insane.

Obviously since you were completely exhausted, you might as well let him take control again until you regained more strength. You nodded slowly, rubbing your eyes as he finally moved the light off of your eyes. He murmured something of a praise, stroking your head gently before going upstairs to retrieve the outfit. You sat there in silence, partially nodding off until you heard his footsteps near the door, body slightly stiffening.

You may not be outwardly afraid of him, but unconsciously, he made you become unintentionally afraid of the new fucked up punishments that he created. At a certain point in this life, it was undeniable not be terrified of something unexpected.

"A friend recommended this new place for women clothes since she noticed I've been in a good mood lately." Porco pushed the door open, a light pink babydoll dress in his hands. "Ain't it nice? Might be better than all the other ones I've put you in, the seamstress really has outdone herself, don't you think sweetie?"

Everything about it looked too short, ruffles and lace making most of the skirt and the sleeves overtly puffy. He may think he's putting you into something cute, but it was obviously something uncomfortable to wear. It's intentionally supposed to make you tick, you knew it was.

"It's..." You started, thinking about how to go around this without sounding offensive. "Pink."

He frowned, obviously expecting more from you but simply shook his head. Alright, that was a somewhat valid response.

"Still tired huh? Yes, most of your clothes are pink, but this one," He placed the dress next to you, along with the undergarments and shoes. "This one is for a special occasion."

Special occasion? A year must've already passed by since he purchased you, it wouldn't be all that surprising if he was celebrating that. You lifted your arms up and let him remove your nightgown, leaving you only in your underwear. Porco removed the dress from the hanger, turning towards you and pulling the dress over your head and arms, organizing it properly over your body.

Definitely too small now that you were wearing it, the bands around the arms making it feel like you were gonna lose circulation on them and your breasts nearly spilling out of the top of the dress, no matter how much he was adjusting it. The skirt was also way too revealing, just barely covering your panties but he soon tugged those off, putting on an even more scantily clad pair. He brushed out your hair, taking a few pieces and attaching a bow with it behind your head. The shoes were just simply white flats, the only part of the outfit that you had no problem with.

"There. Such a beautiful girl, wouldn't you agree?"

He cooed as he stood you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pulling off the drape that covered the mirror. You weren't allowed to use the mirror, that was what he said as one of the rules way back then. You didn't know why he asked that of you, but you've never seen yourself in years anyways, the details of your appearance foggy in each glimpse of a reflecting surface. The basement was dark too, the only sources of light being the flashlight or lanterns that Porco brings down here to see you. But this?

This was the first time you truly felt horrified at anything, bruises of varying colors littering around your skin, most prominently around your neck. You looked sickly, a pale complexion covering your skin, and bone-dead tired, eyebags weighing under your lower eyelids heavily. The only thing that looked decent on you was your brushed out hair and dress, despite how it squeezed at your almost feeble body.

"What... what did you do to me?" Your hands went over your face, feeling your very soul crumple into itself.

Porco snorted, his hand wrapping around your jaw and forcing you to look at the reflection. "Nothing. This is you, all you. The only thing I've done is the bruises but everything else is your fault."

You pushed him back, his body hitting the wooden door with a thud. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes since the first time in forever as you balled your fists at your side. You started wailing, curses slipping through your lips.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"Y/N—" His tone was becoming angry, a warning.

Porco never said your name before.

You took off one of the flats and quickly threw it hard at the mirror, multiple fragments shattering off the wall. You grabbed the biggest piece that landed on the ground, feeling the palm of your hand cut open, warm blood spilling down your fingertips. Without a second thought, you lunged at your captor. Porco was stronger as he stopped you midway of your attack, but his hands slipped from the grip he had on your bloody hands and wrists, it was almost unnoticeable but not to you.

With the little strength you had left, you gave it your all, letting out a wrathful shriek as you jabbed the piece into his stomach, twisting it in as deeply as you could.

The world fell silent as you watched his blood seep through his shirt.

This was the first time you've looked into his eyes in the light and this close in general, the hazel color showing nothing but displeasure. You heaved slowly, taking in shaky breaths through your nose. Slowly, you released the shard and backed away from his still-standing body, the chain connected to you rattling along on the stony ground with your movements. Your eyes were still locked onto him, impatiently waiting for him to collapse so you can take the key out of his dying cold body.

Yet, that didn't happen.

"You're fucking pathetic, stupid even." Porco's hand reached for the mirror shard embedded in his gut, pulling it out with a slight hiss, as if it was nothing but a splinter. "If only, just only, you remembered that I can heal from any wound that your dumbass places on me, we wouldn't have this issue but I guess I gave your slow little brain one too many hits."

The steam was coming off of him again as he threw the bloody shard pack into the broken pile, your teeth baring at him.

"What the hell are you? Some kind of monster?" He laughed, pushing his hair back with blood, the red mixing in with the dark blond.

"Worse," Porco charged at you with inhumane speed, grabbing your throat and lifting you up in the air with one hand, your hands clawing at his forearm as black spots began to form in your vision. "I'm one of the worst monsters of them all. A Titan."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

You awoke to find yourself in a forest.

Originally, you thought you died. It's been years since you've last seen the outside, even felt the wind's breeze go against your face and feel the rising sun's rays warm up your skin. Yet, as you opened your eyes, you reached out to the grass, feeling the smooth blades brush up against your fingers, you knew you were still alive.

Sitting up, you slowly took in the surrounding environment. Did Porco abandon you because he thought you were dead? A giddy feeling rose up from within, excited about the possibility of finally, finally having the freedom that you've desired for so long. You wobbly stood up, realizing that you were still in the outfit he made you wear, now stained with dried blood. Ugh, at least he should've had the decency to put you back in rags or something before dumping your 'corpse'.

How far were you from the nearest civilization? You'd be lucky if you managed to come across one before either dying of dehydration or starvation, hoping you'd run into an Eldian internment zone rather than a major Marleyan city. Maybe even dying here in the wilderness would be a better death than being around people again, considering that all of them would just disappoint you once more.

There was a sound of grass crunching, small branches breaking from behind you as footsteps drew closer.

"Awake aren't we?" Fuck. You turned around, seeing him standing back at a distance, still wearing his bloody clothes.

"I wish I wasn't now that I know you're here piggy. Goddamnit, why didn't you just fall over and die when I stabbed you?" You grumbled the last half, tugging at the bottom of the skirt dejectedly. From afar, you could imagine that his eyebrow was twitching in irritation once you mentioned the nickname.

"You're so annoying, you know that? It's been a year and no matter what I do to you, you still persist. Still convincing yourself that you can't be broken. You've really ran me dry to figure out what I can do to make that pretty little head internally pop, well, I got one more thing that'll make you finally listen to me." Porco fished out a small pocket knife out of his jacket, holding out his palm for you to see before he sliced the middle of it, blood immediately gushing out.

"I'll give you a 15 minute head start, timer starts when I transform. If you can hide or outrun me, I'll let you go free. No catches, you'll simply be free to walk among us again. But if I find and catch you," A cocky smile grew on his face, pointing the knife down at you. "You're going back to the fucking basement."

Wait. What does he mean by transform?

A flash of blinding lightning appeared abruptly right in front of you, gusts of wind nearly knocking you over. You covered your face to try and shield yourself from the sudden weather change onslaught, the sound of something crunching forming loud in your ears. The light finally faded away after a few minutes gone by, a huge shadow hovering over you instead. Hesitantly, you peered up out of your arms and gaped in horror as you stared at the monster in front of you.

Where Porco once stood, a bony skull-like faced Titan stood before you on all fours, a mane of familiar blonde hair wrapping around its head like a lion. It had a shorter and muscular stature than most Titans you've seen in books before your kidnapping, still towering over you but not as much as a normal Titan would. White-tipped claws on each of its digits were prominent on both its hands and feet, digging into the soft grassy ground beneath it.

What the fuck? What the fuck?! Your captor was the Jaw Titan user the entire time? Is that why he disappeared every now and then? Holy shit, you knew what the Jaw Titan user's dick looks like.

Its small hazel eyes glared down at you through the skull-like mask and you felt frozen to the spot, too afraid to make any move. Was he even still in control of himself in there? A guttural growl came out of it then, snapping you out of it.

Porco's waiting for you to move, he... he wants to chase you down. You have no other choice, and you'd rather put up another fight than to lay down belly-up.

You took off the other flat that still remained on your foot and threw it at the face of the creature, soon dashing as quickly as possible into the lush forest. In your head, you knew your outfit was going to be an immediate sore thumb in the surrounding greens and browns so you started to rip it apart as you ran, trying to scatter the pieces as much as you possibly could to throw off the trail. All you were left in was your thin underwear and even that was a risk to keep on, but it was all you had left to preserve the dignity you were barely holding onto.

As you ran, you felt every stray branch dig into your already-damaged skin and every breath you took in felt like needles in your nostrils. It was better than nothing, better than getting immediately caught by that thing. You don't know how much time has passed since you started running, all you knew was that you must've wasted precious seconds when you gawked at the atrocity of a Titan.

There was a whipping sound and then a thud, trees cracking and breaking behind you. The echo of birds flapping away from the source, cawing in alarm rang loudly in your ears and you felt immediate dread crawl up your spine. Your head start was up, he's coming.

You still ran as fast as you could despite the burning in your underused muscles, trying to find somewhere decent to hide in. An overgrowth, a bush, anything at this point. The sounds of whipping and cracking were getting closer and closer, panic bubbling in your stomach until you missed a step, falling over and knocking the wind out of yourself.

You cried out as quietly as possible once you got air back in your lungs, slowly sitting up with damp dirt clinging onto your bare skin. Taking a glance at the ledge you fell from, an idea popped in your mind. Underneath, it was wide enough to fit your body and deep enough for you to hide in, so long as you could cover yourself up with leaves and dirt. The sound of a gurgling snarl close by meant that you had little time to put your plan into action, and you grabbed the nearby shrubbery in handfuls, crawling into the space as fast as you could.

Laying on your back, your place the gathered materials on your body, completely covered from head to toe. You didn't know how it looked on the outside, but it had to be something that could be overlooked when he was searching around. It had to be because you were not going back, you refused to.

The close rumble of the ground almost had you scream out in terror, but you put your hands over your mouth as tightly as you could, your breaths shaky out of your nose. The thuds grew closer and closer, body jumping with each passing step, and then it stilled. You could slightly see what was going on outside, heart dropping when you immediately spotted him.

The Titan was just standing there, completely still besides his head moving around to scan the area. He must've figured out that your clothing trail had gone cold or that it was fake the entire time, but the one thing you knew was that he was quick to catch up either way. A hissing sound, almost sizzling, broke the silence. You watched as Porco's original body appear out of the creature's upper back, right near the neck.

What. The. Hell.

"You're here, aren't you?" His voice was calm, no hint of frustration or irritation. Porco had too much pride to proven wrong, he was confident that he tracked you in the right spot and you hate that he was correctly onto you.

"Your footsteps stopped not too far from here, y'know. You tryna hide now? Ran out of stamina? Twisted your ankle?"

You clenched your eyes tightly together, praying that he'll give up, that he won't find you. Never in your wretched life have prayed before, but you'd start worshipping the very god that'll manage to make sure that Porco won't look in this shallow cavern.

"Fine. If you don't want to reveal yourself—"

There was another sizzling sound, your eyes opening and seeing that he went back into the body, the creature beginning to move once more. The Titan then opened its bony maw, revealing a second pair of sharper teeth before an ear-bursting screech projected out of it, your hands shooting to your ears to try and cancel out the horrid sound. The scream kept wailing aloud like a never-ending storm alarm, your head beginning to ache. It felt like it was going to pop the longer it went on, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Silence.

There was a slight ringing in your ears, but the screaming was gone and when you looked out of your hidey-hole, he was no longer standing there. Did he actually give up? You stayed still in the divot, head throbbing and heart pounding against your ribcage. You'll even wait until the next morning if it meant for any kind of confirmation that he was gone.

Suddenly, a claw came down on the roof of your cavern, the sharp tips just barely missing your body. It ripped away the dirt and rock, the sunlight blinding you as you sputtered out the pieces that came down on your face from the removal. Complete fear radiated off your expression as its unnerving mask stared down at your trembling form. You... lost.

You think that its — his — eyes were gleaming with glee right now, seeing how pitiful you looked, filthy and damaged. His hand reached for you, body stiffening as the fingers curled around you, picking you out of the hole carefully. The body of the Titan slumped down and the same hissing sound came out of the back of it, Porco reappearing once more.

"Took me only 30 minutes to find you, what a pathetic attempt of a run," He insulted, leaning his body over the fuzzy head of the creature. "Though, I will have to give props to you with the hiding. I wouldn't have spotted you until you moved in the hole from the scream."

"P-please... make this th... thing stop touching me." You almost whispered, the coldness and rough texture of its grip tight around your body. You hated that you were directly forced to stare at it, its eyes blank but still glaring deep within your soul.

"You afraid of it? You scared of the big bad Titan?" Porco taunted, his arm slightly moving and the grip tightening around you even more. You let out a strangled cry, your breathing becoming erratic. The feeling of the jagged bones jutting into your flesh like squeezing a balloon to its limit, the imagery of your organs bursting out of you, began to make you hysterical.

"Please s-st... stop! P-please! I... I don't want to die! Porco, I'm begging you! Get me out!" You started sobbing, blobs of tears flowing down your cheeks. You hated him, but you hated this monster even more. To think that they were truly real, a true threat to your fragile existence, it was something that was horrifyingly difficult to mentally process.

Porco gawked at your sniveling body, not even trying to wiggle out of the Jaw Titan's hand but still crying out to him for his help. This is what he wanted right? To see you completely give up, to depend on his assistance, to save you. He felt so fuzzy and dizzy on the feeling, almost like he drank too much liquor. Just to play around with you a little more, his hand twitched, causing the Titan to squeeze you even more.

You screamed out in fear once the pressure got even more narrow, your cries resonating louder within the deep forest as you simultaneously begged him to stop. Aw, how adorable but alright, he's had his fun for the day. This might've gotten the message across, let's see how long it'll last or else he'll have to do this again and again if he had to.

"Will you finally listen to me?" He finally spoke up, your teary eyes immediately meeting his and nodding furiously without hesitation.

"Yes! Y-yes I will!"

"And what do I want to hear from you?" You sniffled, looking completely drained of all fight.

"I-I'm sorry... s... s-sir. I wo... won't ever do i-it again."

Porco thought he never felt such euphoria in his life until he heard your apology, a wickedly proud grin growing on his face. He pulled himself out of the Jaw Titan's back, watching the creature start to steam and deflate as he reached for you, peeling its fingers off of your body and helping you down. Unexpectedly, you latched onto Porco once you got on the ground, your arms wrapped around him tightly in a vice hug. You... never did that before.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You repeated over and over again, your tears wetting his coat. "I won't fight you again, I-I promise sir."

His hand reached over to your head, light stroking the tangled strands as you trembled against his body. "That's what you get for being a bitchy brat, you don't want me to do it again right?"

You shook your head in response, gripping onto his clothes even tighter at the thought of being chased by that thing again.

"Then you gotta listen to me better, okay? You listen, no Titan. And now that I'm reminded of your bad manners, you've torn up that pretty dress of yours earlier. That wasn't cheap, you ungrateful bitch. How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Worry began to fill up your still-teary expression as you pulled your face out of his shoulder. You were taking every insult with a grain of salt, dismissing them completely. "I-I'll do anything to make it up to you, sir."

Porco really wasn't any different from the devil nuisances down in the slums, an excited shiver going through his system. If you're really offering anything, then he might as well get what he deserved out of you, he's been waiting a year for it after all. He lifted your face with one hand, rubbing away a smudge of dirt off of your skin with his thumb.

"We'll discuss what you can do about it later. Now, let's go home and get ourselves cleaned up, you smell like mud and look like shit." Another apology slipped through your lips as he moved forward with your hand in his, the corners of his mouth curling upwards with pure joy.

The animal within you has become neutralized, the flame dying and being left behind with the fading Titan behind the two of you.

Porco finally got what he paid for.

69 notes · View notes

milkpup · 8 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 5 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: hi, sorry this took so long to update! i've had a lot going on lately, but i finally felt good enough to finish this chap! i tried to go for soft megumi but then eventually i couldn't help myself. sowwy x_x (im not sorry :3!) don't try so hard to imagine the positions, just go with it PLSSSS T_T LOL. for tumblr: i'm gonna start adding a section for tags. if y'all wanna be tagged in future updates on this fic or any of my stuff lmk!

<;33

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 5: Pink Carnations

“It’s already almost 5 in the afternoon… and there’s a storm forecasted? Why are they not home yet?” Megumi questioned as he anxiously paced back and forth in the living room. He was worried, not really about the guy who he’s supposed to call ‘father’, but about you. He would never admit it, but he counts the hours, minutes, seconds, moments even when you’re not together. He misses you but feels like he’s not allowed to miss your presence.

Yet… he does. He always does. And that’s why when he sees you come bursting through the front door, clothes soaked but laughing, he’s confused. He knows you hate getting your clothes wet, much less completely soaked through. So why are you in such a good mood? He doesn’t mind, and loves hearing your sweet laugh, but he’s confused, nonetheless. That is, until he sees Toji’s massive frame follow right behind you.

Megumi’s cheeks flare with jealousy, his face flush a crimson red. He stares right at you, loudly asking where you’ve been. He isn’t trying to be mean, but he is mad. “What took you so long in a storm like this? You know it’s dangerous to drive with streets flooded so badly like this.” He finishes, looking straight at Toji, staring daggers into him for even thinking of putting you in a dangerous situation.

“I’m a good driver. You don’t need to worry. And we took a while because we were busy.” Toji smirks slightly at the end of his sentence, moving across the foyer and setting his keys on the table.

You don’t want to feel the uncomfortable sensation of soaked clothes for any longer, so you silently slip out of the room and make your way towards the bathroom.

Toji being Toji, he’s watching every part of you until your silhouette disappears into the dimly lit hallway. He’s watching you like a predator stalks his prey. Megumi’s brows furrow as he feels anger and jealousy boiling beneath his skin. He starts walking up to his father, confronting him, “Why are you looking at her like that, and why are you spending so much time with her in general, you old bastard?” Megumi is practically in Toji’s face, eyes fierce and cheeks flared with anger.

Toji only smirks as he’s leaned against the wall, looking down at Megumi. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? She’s fucking hot, and so obedient. I would be a fool to not want her for myself.” His response almost sends Megumi into a blind rage. Megumi understands Toji most likely takes what he wants from you, sometimes aggressively, and he wants to protect you from that.

“You’re disgusting.” Megumi retorts, words laced with venom. “You make me sick.”

“You can’t deny it though. I’m right. And you know I’m right.” Toji responds before pushing off the wall and away from Megumi towards his own bathroom. Megumi rolls his eyes as Toji walks away, but somewhere deep down inside him- that he’s blind to and wouldn’t even admit to- agrees with Toji. And that’s what pisses him off the most. He feels as if he’s been thrown into a competition to “win” you, one that he is already losing at. Megumi is disgusted with himself at the idea of you being described in terms of a prize, but he also can’t resolve the fact that he wants you. It’s wrong and unfair how someone like Toji could get to you first; Toji doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t value you like I do. And thus, Megumi resolves to make you happy in a way no one else can.

A few days pass, and nothing really happens between anyone except sneaking glances and private thoughts.

Eventually, Megumi can’t take it anymore. He chooses a night where Toji is out working overnight “hustling’ or whatever the fuck he called it. He ordered your favorite food and went to pick it up, hoping you’d spend some time with him. Even a little bit. On the way home, he picked up a small bouquet of pink carnations- flowers that mean missing someone.

You get back home from your afternoon class shortly before Megumi pulls up in the driveway. You are just barely sitting on the couch before Megumi opens the door and enters, the sight of flowers and bags of food warming your heart. He makes his way towards the table, setting down the food, flowers still in hand, as you hastily get up and hug him.

“It smells amazing, Megs.” You say, holding him tightly. He thinks you’re talking about the food, but you’re most certainly talking about the intoxicating scent of him and his cologne. He smelled like what rainwater personified would smell like, comforting and refreshing.

“It’s gonna get cold, ___. And these are for you.” He finishes as he sheepishly hands you the flowers. You sit at the table, placing the flowers aside as Megumi looks for plates and silverware for you both.

“Thank you, Gumi.” You gently say as you’re taking containers out of bags and unpacking them. “It smells so good!! I can’t believe you remembered what kind of pasta I like.”

Megumi returns to the table, placing silverware and plates down. “You’re welcome. Of course I’d remember. How could I forget?” He’s sure he could see a faint blush creep on your cheeks, but you’re ultimately distracted by your craving for noodles. He chuckles at how you’re practically inhaling the food.

You both talk for a while about how classes have been, what stuff you’ve been watching, just mundane stuff that still shows how deeply interested he is. You know he remembers every detail, no matter how boring it may seem. He never forgets.

After finishing the wonderful food and cleaning up together, you’re both relaxing on the couch looking for something to watch together. Usually, you gravitate toward thriller or horror movies, but Megumi picks out some almost cringey – but still cute – romance anime about two people who meet at a convention for a game and fall for each other. It’s not your first choice, but it’s still cute.

Your legs are resting on Megumi’s lap, not moving as you both watch. Megumi is slow, almost cautious when he places a hand on your leg, just rubbing you. He wants to make sure any touch in general is fine as he takes his time, slowly moving up your legs and eventually reaching your thighs. You’re acutely aware of his agonizingly slow touch, but the wait almost makes it better. He’s not even watching whatever he put on, and you’re too caught in the sensations of his soft hands rubbing your inner thighs to even begin to pay attention to the show.

Megumi’s hands continue its ascent up your inner thighs, going painfully slow. He’s looking for any and all reactions he can get out of you, and the way your breath hitches as he gets closer – it drives him insane. The way you try to hide your blush across your cheeks with your arms, trying to look at anything else to save you some embarrassment…. He loves it.

His hand moves to the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them to show he wants to take them off. He hooks his fingers around the waistband and gently pulls them completely off before tossing them to the floor. Megumi’s eyes instantly lock on to your panties. “Fuck, ___... do you always get that wet?” He’s teasing you but also shocked, the underwear was soaked from just a little teasing. You must have really wanted him.

His fingers play with you, rubbing the outside of your underwear as he draws sweet moans from your mouth. He absolutely loves the taking his time, hearing every soft moan you squeak out every time he moves his finger. He pulls your panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off as his long, slender finger slips past your folds. Just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled his finger back to his mouth, tasting a bit of your slick. “You taste so good, baby. Oh my god.” He purrs as he brings another finger back to your cunt, this time pushing into you.

“Fuck, Gumi…”

He fucks you with a single finger as he expertly rearranges you on the couch, one leg hanging off with him in between. He slips another finger inside your tight hole as he brings his mouth to your cunt, flicking his tongue around your clit. The whimpers and pants you make only serve to make Megumi feel like a man starved. Eventually he slips his fingers out, much to your annoyance, and replaces it with his tongue. He’s eating you like a man having his last meal. He wastes no time in tasting every part he can reaching, fucking your cunt with his tongue. His hand creeps back up to your clit, thumb gently circling it as he continues eating you out.

He comes back up for air and inserts his fingers again, fucking you in a rhythm matching his thumb on your clit. You can feel yourself approaching that edge, the knot in your stomach tightening as Megumi stretches your cunt with just his fingers. He adds another finger, stuffing you full of his fingers as his thumb continues its assault on your clit. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Did you miss me, baby?”

Your eyes widen as he praises you, feeling yourself reach your limit and cum over his fingers. You make quite the mess over his arms and the couch. “I guess that’s a yes, isn’t it princess?”

He pulls his fingers out of you and reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. There’s a noticeable small wet spot on his boxers, he was definitely hard and leaking at just teasing you. As much as he loves your mouth, he absolutely wants your already fucked out hole.

He picks you up and turns you over so you’re on your knees, hands on the back of the couch. Megumi aligns himself behind you, gently pushing his throbbing cock into your soaked hole. Your panties are still pushed to the side, creating a lewd sight Megumi hadn’t even anticipated as he watched your cunt swallow his cock.

Your upper body was pushed against the side of the couch, with your knees spread apart and ass in the air. Megumi bottomed out his cock inside your tight hole, pushing against you fully. “You’re such a good girl. Holy fuck.” Megumi wasted no time in picking up speed, developing a comfortable pace. You moan in tandem with his thrusts, turning him on even more. He wants to be gentle with you, but you were taking his dick like a bitch in heat, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He spanks your ass as he slams his thick cock into you, and you tighten around him in response. He doesn’t realize it now, but soon will understand how masochistic you really are. He slaps your ass, creating red marks all over it to mark his presence. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? You like being fucked like a whore?” He asks as he thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot. “Answer me, princess. Are you a disgusting whore?”

He gives you almost no time to respond as his hand snakes up your back, reaching your head and grabbing fistfuls of hair to pull you back with. “Yes sir, I am” You barely manage to squeak out as you feel yourself being fucked silly, close to cumming again.

“You’re what? Answer me clearly, darling.” He coos as he tugs at your hair, pulling you back against him.

“I’m a dirty whore-ah” You yelp out as he pulls on your hair. You can feel the warmth of his body on your back, as you feel another hand make its way around your neck.

“Good girl.” Megumi purrs out. He is picking up the pace now, as his grip around your neck gently tightens. He’s thrusting into you with ferocity he didn’t know existed, abusing your tight cunt.

You feel yourself getting dizzy while Megumi keeps drilling into your cunt. He releases his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air as he pushes you down against the couch. His hands grip you at your waist, giving him a better holding on you to fuck you harder. He groans as he feels himself getting close.

His cock slams into your g-spot again, as he nears his edge. “I’m close, baby. Be a good girl and come with me, yeah?” You can feel his cock starting to twitch inside your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your sensitive spot, feeling that knot snap in your belly as you tighten around his cock. The moment you cum, it sends Megumi over the edge, and you feel his warm cum filling your womb. He slips his cock out as he pulls your panties back over your cunt. “Keep this on for a while, sweetheart.” He says as you start to roll over. He leans down and kisses your forehead, while caressing your cheek.

“That was amazing, ____. You were amazing.” He praises as he sits on the couch, pulling you into an embrace as you sit on his lap. Your head rests in the crook of his neck and you can smell that familiar, fresh scent. It smells like home.

“Thank you, Gumi.”

‹𝟹 notes: i don't think there are going to be many more chaps for this fic soon. maybe 2 more at most idk. i dont rly know what i wanna do going forward, so i gotta keep it cookin in my brain for a lil more i guess lol. if y'all have suggestions i am ALWAYYYYYYS open for them! getting comments on my fic literally gives me so much serotonin u dont even understand lol

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo @rzcnlb

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

266 notes · View notes

callmegaith · 1 year

Text

The only thing ineffable bureaucracy showed me is how hyper focused this fanbase is at seeing one thing and one thing only and everything else is a result of that one thing

1) no, Beelzebub and Gabriel are not a straight couple. Nor is Crowley and Aziraphale a gay couple. Stop the non-binary erasure or go outside and talk to an actual non-binary person cuz clearly you have no clue what non-binary is "they're straight presenting" wtf? If you think that please give me your name so I can block you. Cis people, I fucking swear.

Reminder that Beelz used they/them pronouns btw. Sorry that Beelzebub doesn't "pass" for you, it doesn't make them any less non-binary. Not to mention it was stated and already IS CANON that none of them have genders. They're god damn demons and angels, bruh.

2) "it's Gabriel's and Beelz's fault that ineffable husbands didn't get their happy ending": no. It's their own damn fault for not communicating and Aziraphale's inability to accept Crowley as he is. Gabriel and Beelzebub put each other first. Y'all sound salty as hell cuz two people managed to work their relationship out and yours didn't work out. "But if they didn't get together---" y'all really saying shit like this??? Do you hear yourself? That's so sad. Wishing for the doom of one LGBTQ+ ship cuz the other fucked themselves over. THEY CAN BOTH CO-EXIST. And you know what? They will. Cuz Ineffable husbands is clearly canon, the story just wants time with them cuz they're the main characters, not like Beelz and Gabriel who were side characters so had their story summarized.

3) "that should have been ineffable husbands" no, cuz Crowley and Aziraphale aren't Gabriel and Beelzebub. They're different characters with different backgrounds, personalities, relationship structure, and different relationship dynamic in general. They'll get together in a way that fits THEM. And that way requires ups and downs that makes them finally understand that they're perfect for each other without the need for either of them to change.

4) Gabriel was such an asshole wish Crowley got his revenge and--- bla bla BLA : Crowley was happy for them. You hold a grudge over Gabriel that Crowley himself doesn't. Y'all worse than a literal demon. Smh.

Be happy for what we got and look forward to the future where ineffable husbands will certainly become canon and it'll be worth the wait. Don't tear down the LGBTQ+ presentation we got just cuz the main ship didn't get the limelight THIS TIME.

Let things cook, that's how writing WORKS.

But I'm just an Agender demi person and tbh? I would prefer if things took their time.

I love both ships a lot but I'm not gonna hold pitchforks over one ship getting a happy end and one still developing. Come next season, that happy end for Gaberiel and Beelzebub might not last. We DONT KNOW. Do we really need to sacrifice one for the other? Why can't we be happy to have both?

Just really think the vibe of the fanbase rn fuckin SUCKS and I'm not enjoying trying to go through the ineffable bureaucracy tag and seeing people complaining about how it should have been ineffable husbands or how it's their fault.

Okay? Alright.

After this imma start blocking ppl I swear. Just had to throw in my two cents.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy

458 notes · View notes

multifandombookstore · 2 years

Note

I'm going through another Total Drama phase and binge reading Duncan content lol. I was wondering if you could write something about Duncan with a shy good girl kind of character?

Oh 100% anon!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

sigh

y'all already know where this is going

this man is a menace to society

he's a menace to you

aww, but he's your menace LMAO

it's your classic good person x bad boy smh (the viewers at home totally eat it up)

day 1 he teases the ever loving FUCK out of you

he loves flirting with you and just watching you get flustered and start stuttering

if anyone else starts flirting or teasing you though, he's 100% punching them

if anyone, even Chris or Chef, start giving you a hard time, he will put them in their place through any means necessary, or at the very least step in to take the heat instead of you

at first, you think he's just flirting to mess with you

after a while though, you realize he's doing stuff for you that he wouldn't with the others

he saves you a seat close to the bonfire at night to make sure you don't get cold, he'll give you his marshmallow sometimes, he helps you with challenges even if you're on the other team, so on and so forth

you're the only person who gets to see his sweet side

ofc he does all the sweet things while 'insulting' you

"God, will you come sit by the fire already? I can hear your teeth chattering from here." "Here, you can have my marshmallow, fatty." "You're so dumb that you can't even do this challenge on your own. Guess ol Duncky will have to help you out, hm?"

sometimes you think his comments are a little too mean or go a little too far

he always ends up making it up to you tho <3

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Duncan

Join my discord server (I also have an 18+ one that is personal invite only. If you want access to that DM me!): https://discord.gg/qnDxJ6rr67

Tag List: ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

#duncan x reader #tdi duncan x reader #tdi duncan #total drama island x reader #total drama duncan #duncan #tdi #total drama island duncan #total drama #total drama action #tda duncan #tda x reader #tdi x reader #tda x reaer #total drama world tour #td duncan #duncan x reader fluff #tdi duncan x reader fluff

1K notes · View notes

headcanonenthusiast · 9 months

Text

Kyle Garrick NSFW headcanons

This was so difficult to write for some reason and idk why 😭😭 I think I just had a lot of trouble writing for Gaz, because as much as I like him as a character, I'm not much of a Gaz girl. (Or, I wasn't before writing this. I think I changed my own mind with these headcanons 🤭)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His biggest mission during sex is to make you scream.

-If you haven't screamed his name so loudly that it gets you a volume warning on a smart watch, he isn't done.

-Will beg you to be even louder if he isn't satisfied with your volume.

-"C'mon, louder. Louder, baby, you can be louder than that."

-Lowkey doesn't mind fucking you near an open window. Def leans down to whisper in your ear to encourage you to be louder.

-"Don't go covering your mouth now, love. Let the neighbors hear how good I'm making you feel."

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard.

-Calls you pretty girl/boy all the time.

-Especially if you're wearing something of his, whether it be a shirt or necklace or his dog tags.

-Honestly, whenever he sees you in his clothing, especially his dog tags, he goes crazy.

-"Look at you, pretty boy/girl. Keeping my shirt nice and warm for me."

-OBSESSED with taking you while you're on your stomach.

-He'll lean down to kiss your shoulders and back, fingers switching between your hip to your side.

-Isn't opposed to you being on top, as long as you're both enjoying yourselves.

-Like I said, he loves taking you from behind. As such, he sees any sort of marks or dots that you normally don't even see. And he'll run his fingers along any birthmarks/scars with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

-Feel like he'd like recording/taking pictures of it, too. (With consent ofc)

-And he definitely won't share those photos with anyone. They are only for his eyes and your own.

-"God, baby. I ruined you last night. Look at how messy your hair got."

-I feel like he sends the most gorgeous nudes.

-He basically poses for you like a model in front of the mirror. Mf knows he's hot.

-I feel like the main way he asks for sex is sending you a nude or spicy message. Normally doesn't ask for it outright, kinda let's it go over text or come into the night randomly.

-He sees eating you out/sucking you off as a great way to calm you down.

-If somethings got you upset, he'll get a small frown on his face and look more concerned. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to, though. Just let him gently eat your pussy/suck your dick and I can guarantee that you'll forget about whatever was upsetting you.

-If you feel more overstimulated or just have the tendency to cry from the sensations of sex, he's stopping and pulling out with a hand on your shoulder.

-"Oh shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, babe."

-And even if he didn't hurt you at all, it just felt super good, he never pressures you into continuing. If you want to keep going, he'll return to a similar pace but with more awareness of your facial expressions and noises.

-I feel like he'd want to try cockwarming you, but he's honestly so bad at keeping still. It's not his fault you feel too good to not move inside of.

-"Come on, baby. You feel so good, you're so fucking tight. It'd be sinful of me not to move."

-Please put your hands on his shoulders if you're on your back. Nothing will get him harder than you touching his shoulders.

-And if you cry out his name? His confidence shoots through the roof and he nearly cums right then and there.

-Prefers cumming on your stomach, back or thighs so he can take pictures afterwards.

-Aftercare includes him handing you some water before grabbing two game controllers, asking if you'd like to play a game before bed. And if you agree, y'all's moans won't be the only thing the neighbors complain about. Your laughter will probably be as loud as the moans, too.

-And maybe whoever loses the game has to bottom for the next round, idk 🤭

My hands hurt from typing so much 😭 but thanks to everyone who voted! It was challenging to write for Gaz, bc like I said, until an hour ago when I started writing this I wasn't super attracted to him, but I need to learn to write for characters I don't often think about more. Hope y'all enjoyed! Alejandro is up next 😏

160 notes · View notes

reidbae · 11 months

Text

DAY 30: Scream — costumes w/dom!spencer reid & dom!aaron hotchner

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

PART 2

summary: After vaguely mentioning your attraction to the Scream character, Ghostface, your two boyfriends decide to dress as him for Halloween. And, needless to say, they aren't afraid to make you scream.

pairing: dom!spencer reid and dom!aaron hotchner x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: use of pet names for reader (princess, honey, angel, baby, love, doll [sry i went crazy]), reader is fairly shy, spencer is more soft!dom and hotch is more rough/hard!dom, obv use of masks and veryyy heavily implied mask kink, loads of degradation and a lot of praise, hair pulling, blowjob, vaginal sex, unprotected piv sex (pls do not do this <3), choking, teasing, small implication of hotch being a little older than reader, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.5k

a/n: this took me so long PLSSS and i'm not even that crazy about it, but i think i will be posting the second part of this for halloween tmr so i hope that will be better <3 i hope y'all enjoy and have a good halloween tmr/had a good halloweekend!

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim

You were walking through the doors of the the bullpen of the BAU, large bags of candy in your hand as you waved hello to various coworkers of yours.

The BAU, thanks to Derek Morgan, was having a Halloween party to celebrate the spooky holiday. Work had ended a few hours ago at this point, so everyone had finished most of their case files and papers of the like.

To your surprise, a lot of your coworkers were here, and a lot of them were dressed up. It was surprising to see, considering that it was a Tuesday, but it wasn’t an issue, really. As for yourself, you were dressed up as a princess this year.

Well, kind of.

You didn’t feel like going out to get a Halloween costume, so you decided to wear a dress and heels, some jewelry, and call it a day.

“Hey, Y/N. Cute fit,” Derek teased you the second you reached your desk, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. You smiled, rolling your eyes at him.

You pulled back to look him up and down, observing his simple attire, that looked very similar to the henley and jeans combo that he wore on a daily basis. “Thanks, Derek. And what are you supposed to be?” you smiled..

“I’m me, obviously. Can’t get much better than that,” Derek chuckled, taking a sip from the glass that he was holding. You shook your head, giggling.

“Of course,” you said. “Um, where’s Hotch? A- And Spencer?” you then asked Derek, curious as to why you had yet to see the two of them.

It had been common knowledge among your team that you, Aaron, and Spencer all had something going on, but none of you had ever specified what that was.

It would be a simple answer, but you never felt the need to explain your business nonetheless. Aaron and Spencer were both your boyfriends, and while not romantically involved with each other, they were incredibly enamored with you.

So when you noticed neither of them were there, you felt not only concerned, but also suspicious.

“They just went up to Hotch’s office, I think,” Derek said, shrugging his shoulders.

You nodded, setting the bags of candy that you had down on your desk before saying, “Thanks, Derek.”

The blinds in Aaron’s office were shut as you approached it, causing you to raise even more of an eyebrow.

What the hell were the two of them up to?

Throughout the week hat Derek had been raving about this party, Aaron and Spencer had refused to tell you who they were dressing up as, or if they were even dressed up at all. You figured the two men would want to confide in you about their costume choices, but apparently, your help wasn't required.

Which only made you more sure that the two of them had something up their sleeve.

You knocked on the office door and put your ear to it, wondering if you could hear the two of them talking. You found that you could, but all of their dialogue was inaudible. Sighing, you decided to just open the door, let yourself in, and see what they were up to.

You turned the knob and pushed open the door. The view you were met with was one of Aaron and Spencer stood next to Aaron’s desk. Aaron had his arms crossed, and there looked to be a mask of some sort in his hand.

And from what you could see, Spencer was holding the very same mask.

The two men’s eyes met yours when you walked inside of the room, and their appearances sent a quick rush of butterflies to your abdomen.

Spencer was in a white button-up, black vest and tie, along with black slacks and belt. Aaron was wearing the same attire, except he was only wearing a collared shirt, slacks, and belt. While you were unable to tell who the two of them were supposed to be just yet, you grew nervous nonetheless.

They had to be doing this on purpose.

“Hey, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, taking a second to look you up and down and turn his body to face you. “You look amazing in that dress.”

You smiled shyly over at Spencer, a cheesy smile across your face. “Thank you. Um, so—What are you guys supposed to be? You—You never told me,” you didn't fail to remind them, crossing your arms.

“Oh, well…” Spencer 's voice trailed off, gazing over at Aaron and beckoning for him to say something.

Aaron cleared his throat and held up the mask he was holding so you could get a better view of what it was, smiling. “We’re not really resembling the original, but this is what we came up with.”

Aaron was showing you a mask that made your heart flutter; It was a Ghostface mask, the mask of a killer from a franchise of horror movies that you thoroughly enjoyed.

A killed that, despite your role as an FBI profiler, found very attractive.

You remembered vaguely saying a word or two about the masked man when the three of you sat down to watch Halloween movies a week or so ago. You made a brief, dismissible joke about the killer being attractive, and how you wouldn’t be afraid of getting injured if either Aaron or Spencer was wearing the mask.

Needless to say, though that wasn’t really true. Your pulse was going like crazy, and it was no doubt because of the nervousness that you were feeling.

You seemed to short circuit as you stood there, your eyes widening in response to the two men's choice of attire. Finally, when you didn’t speak up, Spencer smirked at you and asked, “Something wrong, love?”

You shook your head a little too quickly, looking down at the floor. “No, n- no!” you defended, giving a heavy sigh. “Nothing’s wrong. Um—You guys look—Really good," you barely managed to get out.

“Do you want to see them on?” Aaron asked as he smirked at you, holding his mask up as he spoke in reference to it.

If your pulse was high before, it was through the roof now.

“Um, su- sure?” you said a little anxiously, finding yourself annoyed at the fact that all words were failing you all because of a mask.

But, God, you couldn’t help it.

The two men gave each other a knowing smirk, one that you couldn't miss, before putting the masks on their faces and securing them in place. They both turned to look at you, waiting for some sort of answer from you.

But, unlike they were probably expecting, your response was physical, not verbal.

You were damn near weak in the knees at the view before you, your face, neck, and ears all growing warmer by the second. They could probably assume your look was one of unease, if it weren’t for the fact that they knew you, and they knew what you were feeling.

“Wow, you look—Good. Um, great, even,” you stuttered out, rubbing the back of your neck in a nervous manner. Before you could even think it through, your next words were gushing from your lips. “I’m going back to the party now,” you said in a muddled rush.

You were squealing as you walked out of the room, blushing as you replayed the scene of your two masked boyfriends in your head. You could hear Aaron and Spencer laughing as you left the room in a hurry.

You knew they liked to tease you, but, damn, really? You didn't think they would do this, of all the things.

They just didn’t have a care in the world about making you feel this way.

And if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you’d be a mess by the end of this party.

—

You were sitting in an abandoned office in the BAU, doing your best to relax and calm yourself down with the way the last hour had just enfolded.

Your boyfriends were dicks. Assholes. Whatever you wanted to call them, that's just what they were,

They’d been walking around the place for the last hour like they owned it, knowing just what they were doing to you as they did.

You both hated and loved how grand of an effect such a simple action, such a simple costume could have on you, all because it was them who were doing it, and them who were wearing it.

You ran your hands through your hair as you stood in the room, trying to slow down the pace of your breath.

And trying to ignore the needy feeling between your legs.

Just then, as if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, causing you to jump out of your own head to pay attention to it.

And, of course, who could it be but the two men on your mind?

“Y/N, honey? Are you in here?” a calm male voice called out for you, opening the door to the office you were in.

Spencer, whose mask was perched above his head, walking in, Aaron behind him. Your eyes flickered between the two of them for a second, before you spoke.

“Hi,” you said shyly, crossing your arms the same exact way that you had earlier on in the evening. “What’s up?” you asked, attempting to make your voice sound as casual as possible

“You kind of ran off there, princess. We got worried,” said Spencer, a sly smile over his face as the two of them approached you. “Everything okay?” he asked, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You looked down as he did so, feeling your cheeks flare up with heat. “No, yeah, I’m—Okay. You guys can go back to the party,” you muttered to them, avoiding their eyes.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your boyfriends throw that same knowing smirk at each other, the same look they'd given each other earlier, before Aaron spoke up. “Alright, stop with the shyness and spit it out, honey. What’s on your mind?”

You looked up at him, and then quickly looked away as you again saw his mask, which was in the same place as Spencer’s was. “Nothing. I told you guys, it’s nothing,” you said to them again, sighing.

Spencer walked up to you, his tall appearance causing a lump to form in your larynx. “Well, obviously, something's the matter, princess,” Spencer cooed, bringing his thumb to rest under your chin. Deciding to get to the root of the issue, Spencer asked, “Is it the masks, honey?”

That was when your nervous gaze finally met Spencer’s eyes, and you nodded, feeling like a little girl being forced to admit to misbehaving.

That’s sure as hell what it felt like.

Spencer smiled down at you, and looked back once at Aaron before asking, “You like them, huh?” his tone somehow caring yet coy all at once.

Again, you nodded.

“We figured you would,” smirked Aaron from behind Spencer, moving closer to you himself. “That was why we got them, really," Aaron shrugged.

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed in response, grinning at the two of you. Spencer’s eyes then softened as he looked down at you as he noiced the shyness of your demeanor. “We’re glad that worked.”

You gave a small, nervous giggle, too, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen now.

No doubt, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be able to leave this room.

“Well, uh, we’ll be happy to put them back on for you, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “Is that something you’d like?”

Your words fell quickly from your lips as soon as the query was spoken. “Y- Yes, please,” you eagerly said to the two of them, suddenly finding a voice as soon as Spencer promised you that they’d put their masks back on.

You couldn’t dream of anything better.

“Mmhm. Just do us a favor, okay?” said Aaron lazily as he moved closer, running his fingers over your hips as Spencer backed up a little. Aaron then put his mask back on, looking down at you. "Don't scream."

Spencer followed through and put his mask back on as well, and your eyes widened at the view of your boyfriends, dressed as one of your all-time favorite horror roles. They were so, so close to you as they looked down at you.

It was a wonder you didn’t pass out on the spot.

Aaron backed you into the wall of the office as Spencer walked away to close and lock the door, leaning his arm on the wall next to you. Spencer joined the two of you seconds later, positioned next to Aaron.

You felt yourself grow weak in the knees as the two men hovered above you, closing your eyes as a fiery blush filled your cheeks. Aaron cupped your cheek, and if you could see his face, you’d be sure that he was smirking, gazing down at you as you shyly slid down the wall.

“Aw, what’s the matter, princess? What’re you so nervous for?” Aaron chuckled in a jeering tone, holding your face in a soothing manner as he smoothed his thumb under your cheek.

“Give her a break. She’s just shy,” said Spencer in response. Spencer reached his hands out to grip your hips, chuckling. “Aren’t you, honey?”

“You guys are such teases,” you murmured more to yourself than them, earning chuckles from both of them.

“We just love to play with you, honey. You’re so easy to mess with,” said Aaron, like that fact was common knowledge. “How do we look?”

You looked up at him, like that fact was common knowledge. But, “G- Good,” was the only word stuttered you could get out of your mouth without your tongue slurring the words.

“Glad you think so,” smiled Spencer, running his hands over your body.

"But we'd look better with you between us," said Aaron in a sly tone, pulling you closer, so that you were flush against his front.

You couldn’t get a word out as Aaron picked you up from the ground, walking you to the couch that was in the room. He put you down on it, and, just like he’d said, put you onto all fours, so that you were bent over for the two of them to see.

Spencer had his arms crossed as Aaron ran his hand over your back, looking down at you. “Oh, look at you, honey. Fucking adorable,” Aaron groaned. He turned back to look at Spencer. “What do you think, Reid? What should we do with her?”

Spencer chuckled behind his mask and sat down in front of you on the couch, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I think our princess here needs some attention of her own. Wouldn’t you agree, angel?” Spencer cooed.

You were eager to nod, feeling your pulse quicken at Spencer’s teasing. “Y- Yes, please,” you whimpered.

Aaron obliged, moving himself behind you and grabbing your hips to keep himself steady. You could hear his belt unbuckling from behind, followed by the sound of it clattering to the ground.

Aaron lifted your dress up, and didn’t misuse even a second as he yanked down your underwear. The older man thumbed your thighs, and then your clit, causing you to let out a low mewl.

“Fuck, doll, you’re dripping. Eager, aren’t we?” Aaron laughed at you, rubbing your clit more, just to get you going.

You let out small whines and whimpers as Aaron touched you, and from what you could see, Spencer was hardening in his slacks from the sound of your moans alone.

That only made you want the two of them more.

“There you go, honey. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours,” Aaron encouraged you, moving his thumb at a quicker pace over your clit.

Spencer, eager to be engaged in some way, began to tease your nipples through the fabric of your dress. Your bra wasn’t doing all that much to stop him from doing so, and, it was then and there that you knew you were done for.

You looked back to see Aaron pulling his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, that was just as hard as Spencer’s was. He let out a low grunt as he moved his hand up and down on himself for a few seconds, readying himself for you.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s attention was fully on you, and he chuckled as he cupped your cheek again. His other hand fumbled with his belt, and he tilted his head at you, his mask being what was gazing back at you.

“You don’t mind me using that pretty mouth of yours, do you, princess?” Spencer cooed to you. You quickly shook your head.

“That’s a good girl,” Spencer whispered back to you, smoothing his thumb under your cheek.

You moaned as Aaron then suddenly, very suddenly, pushed himself inside of you from behind, slowly inching his cock inside of your cunt. Your hand almost immediately went to cover your mouth while Spencer yanked down his pants.

“Ready, angel?” Spencer cooed like nothing else was happening, like you weren’t getting fucked goddamn senseless by Aaron, even if it'd only been a couple seconds of sex thus far. Nevertheless, you nodded, and did just what Spencer asked of you.

Spencer’s size concerned you only a bit as you went down on the brunette genius, bobbing your head up and down on his dick as Aaron pounded into you from behind, and maybe you’d gag, or choke, or cough.

But it didn’t matter, just as long as you got to have them.

“Fuck, doll—You feel so fucking good,” Aaron muttered to you from behind, fucking you at a pace that should be considered illegal for how quick it was.

And how good it felt.

“Such a good girl,” Spencer whispered to you, petting and pulling your hair as a means of pulling you down more onto his dick. “You’re taking us so well, angel,” he cooed.

“Mmhm,” Aaron hummed in response. He moves both of his hands from your hips to your ass and grabbed you by it, pulling you closer to him, and thus pushing himself further into you. You let out a loud mewl in response.

Aaron covered your mouth, letting out a chuckle from behind you. “Didn’t we tell you not to scream, honey?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with flushed cheeks, pulling back from Spencer for a moment to not only speak, but to also catch your breath. “I’m—Trying.”

“Try harder,” Aaron said roughly as you reattached your lips to Spencer’s cock. “We’re the only ones who get to hear how much of a whore you are," your boyfriend shamelessly degraded you.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you whined for more pleasure, feeling overwhelmed by the two men in front of you.

Or, well, behind you.

“Fuck, just like that, love,” Spencer groaned, not paying too much attention to what Aaron was saying. “You’re doing so good for me. So, so good," Spencer praised.

You moved your head up to get a better view of Spencer as you sucked him off. He looked so hot like this, as he did each time that you blew him.

That mask only magnified that fact.

“You should see how much of a slut you look like, honey,” Aaron chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair and grabbed a handful of it, pulling your head down and guiding you as you sucked Spencer’s dick. “Fucking whore.”

Your cheeks were warm with arousal as your brain did the best it could to keep up with Aaron’s degradation, mixed in with Spencer’s praise.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head as the scene unfolded before you: Aaron pounding into you from behind, you gagging around Spencer’s cock, and you knew it was going to send you to the edge so fucking quick.

And just when you believed it couldn’t get any better, you were quickly proven wrong.

Aaron, like he’d done so many times before when the two of you were having sex, used a hand to grab a hold of your neck, and squeezed down with force. You found yourself coughing at the sudden, but arousing action, causing both Aaron and Spencer to chuckle.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Aaron chuckled, administering a small slap to your ass with his free hand. “You want it harder, doll?”

You did what you could to nod, and even pulled away from Spencer’s dick again just to get the words out. “Please, I—I want more, A- Aaron.”

“You’re going to have to beg me better than that,” Aaron said cruelly, beginning to slow his pace down as well. You whimpered in response, ready to give some bratty remark back to him.

But your body needed him too much.

“No, please—Please don’t stop. I’m—I’m begging you. Please,” you whined, feeling utterly helpless to him.

“Please, what, honey?” Aaron teased you anyways, as if this couldn’t get any worse for you, as if you weren't already in the most vulnerable place you could be, begging you for his mercy.

Like you’d said earlier: You were done for.

You let out a small groan at your boyfriend’s continued teasing, but were quick to concede, sighing. “Keep going, please. A- And, harder, rougher, fuck, please," you whined aimlessly, hardly sure of the words coming out of your mouth at this point.

Aaron, knowing that when you began to become incoherent, that you were close to the edge, smirked as he obliged your needs. He began to pound back into you again, and, out of habit, you began to suck Spencer’s dick once more.

Spencer was letting out groans of his own as you sucked him off, pushing your head down as much as be could without making you gag. “Fuck, baby, fuck, I’m so close. You’re doing so good,” Spencer whispered to you, running his fingers through your hair for the millionth time as he praised you again and again. “Good girl, just like that."

Spencer moved his hand over to your back, caressing you slowly for a few seconds before moving his hand down to your clit, just as Aaron had done before. Reflexively, you whined out in pleasure.

The mix of Aaron’s cock, Spencer’s fingers, and both of their moans, was building a pleasure inside of you that you didn’t think humanly possible until now. Spencer thumbed over your clit as quickly as he could, rubbing you in fast circles as the scene before you enfolded.

“You gonna cum for us, honey? Show us how much of a whore you are?” Aaron said in a malicious tone of voice, still squeezing down on your neck. Again, you did what you could to nod.

“That’s it, baby. Go ahead,” Aaron finally encouraged.

You didn’t need much more than that.

You were climaxing in seconds upon Aaron’s command, the room smelling of sex as the three of you filled it with your moans. You could taste Spencer’s seed as ropes of it made their way into your mouth, while relishing in the pleasure of Aaron filling you with his own release at the same time.

Aaron chuckled as he pulled out of you, getting up from where he was on the couch. You whined at the sudden exit, your thighs shaking as you moved your head off of Spencer’s tip and sat up on the couch. You then pouted when you saw Spencer getting up, too.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked with a sad face, already feeling incredibly bare without the two of them next to you. They had never been ones to have sex without aftercare, so the fact that they were getting up was worth raising an eyebrow over.

Spencer put his thumb under your chin and finally removed his mask, just to kiss the top of your head. “Giving you some time to come back down to earth, princess. You probably need it.”

“And we’re sure you’ll need us again before the party’s over. And after the party’s over,” Aaron chuckled, removing his mask as well.

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone of voice, your cheeks warm from the unneeded jeering. All you could do was cross your arms in response.

Spencer smiled down at you. “Don’t worry, princess. There’ll be more fun later on, okay? Just as long as you’re good for us. Can you be good for us, angel?” Spencer asked you genuinely.

You looked up at Spencer in a pout, but, at some point, you sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“There’s our girl,” Spencer cooed. Then, Spencer turned to face Aaron, smirking at him. “Shall we?”

Aaron, mirroring Spencer’s expression, nodded, and the two of them walked out of the office, leaving you there to think about all that had just happened.

Your dress was ruffled, and your thighs were a messy, shaking mess in the aftermath of what had just occurred with your two boyfriends.

You wanted to hate them so bad for this. How were you supposed to go back to the party now?

It didn’t even matter. You heard what they said.

"After the party’s over…"

You couldn’t even conjure up the image of what was going to happen then.

All you knew was that it was going to be a hell of a Halloween.

—

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

—

please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

—

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #hotch

261 notes · View notes

poisonousquinzel · 6 months

Text

people that actually think (and bitch about) Harley "being part of the Batfam" are so annoyingly funny to me cause like y'all really saw a couple panels & group shots and just ran with it huh? no bothering to even read the dialogue cause who does that? like oh nooo, she was there during the war her ex started and she tagged along with Batman cause she'd literally saved his life and she wanted to put an end to Joker.

Bruce: "Joker's at Ace Chemical. I'll go to him there. I'll put an end to this."

Harley: "And I'm going with, so I can kill Joker."

Jason: "Wait what?!"

Bruce: "That's not what's happening."

Harley: "Wait, why the hell is that not what's happening? That's the whole reason I came here!"

Batman (2016 - ) #106 Cover

like omfg move on ! the Joker war arc was literal years ago. (2020-2021) it's been fucking years shut up about shit you never got in the first place it makes you look moronic.

cause sorry is Bruce not allowed friends? do you just jump to the assumption that every single person he's friends with and is part of a group panel has been by default now legitimately added to the Batfam? do you think he's out here adding members as if he's unlocking new characters in the Lego Batman game & they've been permanently added to his gallery? like is it hard? having rocks inside your skull where the brain should be? cause why are y'all so stupid jfc? 😭

#batman cant have friends cuz actually theres a law that says any person he views positively will be immediately added to the family roster #yes the family is very big and yes holidays are hectic #bruce knows a lot of people and most of them are by law part of the family #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc comics #bruce wayne #batman #i love the idea of her being friendly with the batfam but like it's not at that point in the comics so its annoying when people #hate on her / hate on the comics because of something thats not true #♧ comic thoughts ♧

67 notes · View notes

shaunashipman · 1 month

Note

You move pretty similarly to some crazy buddie shippers. Like hating on a mustache so badly and getting pissed bc you see it because there's no bts of Lou yet is crazyyyy. "disgusting dead caterpillar decaying on his top lip" like are you okay? Like the crew loves the mustache & so does the cast. Let them have fun. Why are you so upset when the cast all look happy and having fun on set with it. I feel like if it was any other cast with the mustache for example Bobby or Kenny, you'd enjoy it. But since it's RG and it makes buddies happy, you're being a buzzkill bc you hate that buddies so much. It just doesn't feel like you're actually a fan of the show but just a fan of Lou & bucktommy. Lou will eventually be spotted on set unless they give them an offscreen breakup which I can't see them doing twice in a row for Buck.

babe are you okay? why are you so pressed about what I'm doing?

show me where, in any of my mustache hating posts, I mention lou. if you go through my blog, you'll find very little posts about lou being/not being on set (no shade to those that are posting, I know y'all are having fun 😘). I'm not worried about lou not being seen on set. it's very unlikely tommy isn't coming back, at least for a little bit, so I'm not stressed. and if he isn't, I'll complain about how it's bad writing for a day or two, then move on.

my hatred of the mustache, is because I fucking hate mustaches. kenny or peter or anyone could have one and I'd still fucking hate it. because I hate mustaches. the only person I even slightly tolerate it on is tom selleck, and even on him it's gross, it's just that he's always had one so he looks weirder without it. you hear that? I hate the mustache on thee mustache man. I stand by "disgusting dead caterpillar decaying on his top lip". it's true. just like it's also true that other people really like the mustache, and find it attractive, and I don't like to unnecessarily rain on other people's parades, so I didn't put my mustache loathing posts in the tags.

and I'm not upset about the videos of the mustache, I'm bored. the cast and crew is having fun, great, glad they are, I'm not. and I'm not commenting on their videos about it, I'm not tagging the cast in my posts, I'm just stating, on my own blog, to my followers and mutuals, that I don't like the mustache and I'm bored of seeing it in the bts. people are welcome to unfollow, and even block if they want. but several of my moots really like the mustache, and post about it, and I don't unfollow them, so I think they'll also be fine with seeing posts about how I don't like it. because we're adults who understand you don't have to agree with every single opinion someone has to be friends with them.

funny how a handful of posts about me disliking the mustache = me not even liking the show. quick question, are you part of eddieblr who thinks the show revolves around him? cause newsflash, I could in fact hate the character of eddie, and RG, and it wouldn't mean I don't love the rest of the show. yeah, I post a lot about bucktommy, they're my shiny new blorbos, fresh out of the package and hardly damaged yet. but I very much love the rest of the show and characters.

so, how about you stop worrying about what other people like or don't like, curate your space, and leave me to be a hater in peace

#cleo gets mail #anonymous #'stachegate #when i tell you i was literally waiting for something like this #i was ''critisizing'' something about eddie (and therefore about buddie) so of course someone had to come out of the woodwork #and tell me i'm not allowed to have opinions and that those opinions make me a bad person

33 notes · View notes

babyboiboyega · 4 months

Text

Gekko Headcanons #1 : The Cookout

Pairing: Mateo De la Fuente/Gekko x Black!Gn!reader Headcanon: Taking Mateo to a family cookout would include... Content: fluff, profanity Word Count: 2.6k Author's Note: its been toooo long since I've written something, and of course my newest hyperfixation is the thing that gets me to write again LMAO gotta love it y'know? I am very new to the world of Valorant and this character, so please...if any of this seems ooc, kindly let me know. I'm still learning about him, I'm still feeling him out, but I just enjoy the character so much already. I also enjoyed writing this, so I hope y'all enjoy! <3 Tag list: @liyaawrites (aka, the person responsible for this obsession!!)

I wanna start off by saying that the second you mention taking Mateo to meet your family, the boy is geeked out of his mind. Maybe it's in passing during a conversation, or maybe you consciously bring up the topic once you feel it's the right time; either way, it’s met with wide, brown eyes that sparkle in excitement, and thick lips that part on an immediate agreement. Not only does an agreement follow, but he also immediately starts to ask what he should bring. What kind of get-together is it? Does he need to know anything beforehand? How does he need to dress, because he’ll be damned if he shows up underdressed when meeting the family of the person he loves. He only stops worrying when you tell him exactly what the function is – a cookout – and what he’s expected to bring – some dish that your mom/grandmother/auntie or other family member is requesting. And once those questions are answered, he goes straight to worrying about making sure it’s up to their standards. You have no idea why, but your family gives you and him the job of bringing the macaroni (and not any store-bought macaroni- they’ll know the difference). When he learns that it has to be homemade and that its a staple in the entire cookout, he instantly looks up recipes while thinking back to the ones his ma or abuela would use, wanting to put his own spin on it while also wanting to make a good first impression. It gets to the point where you find him up late one night, his phone’s screen illuminating his features from where he lays beside you. He’d turn his phone to you sheepishly, apologizing for the bright light and displaying a page called “how not to make macaroni and cheese” or something along those lines with a sheepish smile.

“Think they’ll like this one?” “Teo…baby…it’s 3 am.” “...you’re right, I should look for another one-”

The days leading up to the cookout are spent with him constantly going on about how excited he is to meet your family – specifically the cousins you’re the closest to and have mentioned before. In response, you warn him that your family can be…a bit much, specifically when someone brings their partner around. They have a tendency to ask too many questions, get a little too comfortable joking around, and are just all around loud and obnoxious sometimes…and he’d only reassure you with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow that not only is his family the same, but he’s so used to being around large families as his used to have get togethers all the time. He’s dealt with it before, and it'd be worth it to deal with it again if it meant he got to meet your folks. Despite the sentiments, you still warn him – especially of that aunt who always likes to make smart-ass comments and loves calling others out despite having her own problems in her life, to which he lets you know that he’s dealt with one of those and he’ll make sure that y’all are far away from that aunt at all times. He would offer to keep you dancing all night just so you had an excuse to not talk to that person, which would only lead to a conversation involving line dances.

Despite Mateo's affinity for the punk/skater aesthetic, I’d like to think that his Hispanic roots have resulted in him having a good sense of rhythm. I also like to think that he listens to a lot of music in his spare time, fostering an appreciation for different genres. With that being said, I think our boy could keep up with the line dances. When you offer to teach him a few just for fun, he’d be excited as hell, his lips curling into a full-blown smile as he’d watch you turn the music on and scroll through the first ‘cookout line dance’ playlist you find. When you find a suitable one and try to teach him, he’d be playful about the entire thing, claiming that he needs you to do it a few times although you know its just so he can see you dance, his eyes lingering heavily on your hips as you do so. And when you finally get him to join you, you realize that he may not have the steps down, but he’s got enough swag and rhythm to keep up and look like he knows what he’s doing, which is enough.

“One more time, princesa- I promise. I’ll get it this time.” “You’re just looking at my ass, Mateo-” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (with a shit eating grin on his face)

Now…when it gets to the day of the cookout, you two would be up pretty early, going to get the supplies to make the macaroni before starting on it at home. He’d want to help so badly, but he’d also have no problem getting your input on it – after all, it is your family and you know how they usually like their macaroni. But he’d also insist on doing most of it himself which would result in about a few hours of him moving around the kitchen with a focused look on his face. His focus is only broken by you checking in on him, it instantly changing to a cocky, yet playful, smirk as he would nod to the pan that’s in the oven.

“How’s it goin, baby?” “Look at that masterpiece and tell me how it’s goin, mi carino. You see that golden brown on the top, you smell that delicious, scrumptious, decadent-” “Aaaalright, that’s enough-”

You know I have to mention the process of picking out outfits. I absolutely believe that Mateo would not only be down for, but would love being one of those couples that wears complimenting outfits. Not matching completely, but maybe having one article of clothing that’s the same color or maybe even wearing the same accessories. You two have too much personality and style to limit yourselves to wearing the exact same thing when going out, so he would love to wear complimenting outfits. He’d always make sure to pick colors that you enjoy wearing despite thinking that you look beautiful in every color.

“What about green?” “Oh…well…you know I don’t exactly look the best in green, baby.” “I wholeheartedly disagree, but we can look for something else, mi amor. No problem-”

I think that he’d be so invested in making sure y’all look good that he’d kind of forget about the macaroni that's in the oven. You can’t even blame him, because you’d be able to see the excitement radiating off of him as he gets ready, so you’d just gently, but amusedly, remind him.

“Teo.” “Yeah?” “Your macaroni-” “Mierda- my macaroni-!”

His attention would instantly switch to the macaroni, so much so that he’d still be standing in the kitchen, his eyes on the oven when you walk in fully dressed with Wingman trailing behind you, Mateo’s shirt in his beak as he chirps and trills. You wouldn’t be able to understand him, but you don’t really have to to understand the comedic radivore’s noises. You’d only be able to nod and agree with the little guy as you both watch Mateo hurriedly throw on his shirt before taking out the macaroni.

Now…lets get to the cookout itself. He’d hear the music and chatter immediately after stepping out of the car and would just look at you with a smile and excited eyes, offering to take the dish with one hand and your hand with the other. You’d be able to see that recognition in his eyes, the myriad of sounds that signify a family fellowship being ever so familiar to him. Homeboy would walk in the door with a wide and inviting smile, greeting people politely while also showing that he can be rather extroverted when he wants to be. Of course, he gets the typical ‘this must be yo lil friend’ from your family members, but he takes it in stride. But while taking it all in stride, he’d also make sure to kiss your cheek, your forehead, hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist– anything to show that the words ‘lil friend’ are just a title your family members have given him, and that the truth is he’s yours.

He’d show the macaroni to the family member(s) in charge of the food, watching with baited breath as they take the foil off of the top, their eyes looking at the golden-brown cheese on top before looking up at you two with a smile.

“Oooh, this looks good, Y/N.” “Actually, Mateo made it. I just helped him when he needed it; it was all him.”

He’d absolutely be geeked when they turn to him with an impressed look, their smile widening as they set it on the table with the rest of the food. And if you thought he had a big head when being told that it looked good, it’s nothing compared to when the first family member comes up and tells him that it tasted good. Chile, you’d never hear the end of it…though you don’t want to. It’d be endearing and sweet that he takes so much pride in making something your family enjoys. And when it comes to him actually eating the food prepared, he would not hold his appreciation back. There’d be a lot of ‘who made this’, followed by just as many ‘dios mio’s as he can dish out. The same goes for the dessert portion, especially the homemade pound cakes from your family members. Yeah, he’d have no problem asking for a to-go box; one for food, and one for dessert.

Throughout the duration of the cookout, he’d find himself constantly in conversation with someone from your family, whether it be because he had been pulled into a conversation, or whether it was because someone approached him with the intent of asking questions. Either way, Mateo would be game for any question asked, usually answering with an air of confidence, friendliness, and humor that made others love him instantly. When asked questions about you two’s relationship, he’d be quick and incredibly willing to answer, his eyes glancing at you adoringly as he does so with a smile on his face. It’d get to a point where you would have to ‘rescue’ him from more questions, citing that you wanted to dance just to get him away from your family member(s). And he’d happily let you pull him away, however, not before promising the uncles gathered around a table that he’d play spades with them the next round.

At some point in the night, you’d lose him for a few minutes, coming back to his empty seat after fixing a plate of dessert for both of you, and after scouring the yard, hoping that he hasn’t gotten himself into a less than pleasant conversation, you finally find him. Except he isn’t in a conversation- not with an adult, anyway. No, he’s seated in the yard, not too far at all from the kids table, smiling widely as the kids from your family gather around him. Their hands reach for and gently run over his hair, the dyed shapes and colors instantly catching their attention as they speak over each other, asking him questions.

“Why’d you do that to your hair?” “Did it hurt? Why’d you pick spots?” “My mama says people who dye their hair like that don’t want a job.” “Can I do that to my hair?”

You’d only be able to watch in fondness for a few minutes as he struggles to answer their questions, his facial expression showing exactly how much he enjoyed being the center of attention for the kids. It would get to a point where he’d look up at you with an expression that screamed for help despite the smile still on his face, and you wouldn’t hesitate in rescuing him. You’d never seen Mateo around kids before now, but going off of the vibes and interactions you’d see, it’d be easy to come to the conclusion that he’s pretty okay with kids. Because of his chill demeanor, not only is he seen as ‘cool’ to the youngins, but he’s also easy to interact with. It would certainly help that he’s got a little crew of adorable creatures who are intelligent enough to interact carefully with the kids. There’d be peels of laughter and excited chatter as Wingman does a trick when prompted by Mateo. There’d also be a time where Wingman turns to Mateo, chirping quickly and constantly looking back at the kids…and after a short conversation between the two, he’d probably smile, nodding his head towards the kids with a ‘have fun, be careful’. That’d be the only thing Wingman needs to hear before turning and joining the group of kids in their activities, the laughter being a constant noise as long as the creature is interacting with them.

When it gets to the end of the night and people start filtering out of the yard, he’d check in with you, asking you if you’re tired or if you still want to hang around with a look of understanding for whatever answer you give. It's only when you smile tiredly and sheepishly at him that he’d nod with a smile, telling you that maybe it's time to go. It wouldn’t be long before you two have a bag with your to-go boxes in them, making your rounds with your family members and saying goodnight. He’d leave Wingman to play with the remaining kids until it’d be time to go, waving him over once you two are ready to leave. (You can’t help but feel like you two have your own little family, and the earlier sight of him interacting with the kids certainly adds fuel to that thought).

The ride home would be spent going over certain conversations and interactions that had happened during the night, showing just how attentive Mateo had been the entire night. You’d also learn of some of the conversations he’d had when you weren’t around…and he’d instantly wave away your apologies for the nature of those conversations, an easygoing and amused smile on his face as he does so.

“Please tell me she did not say that to you- I’m so sorry, love-” “No need to say sorry. It was pretty funny, so its okay, mi cielito. So…you tried to turn the speed all the way up on the treadmill, yeah?” “Yeah, that’s enough of that-”

To put it simply: Mateo would be ecstatic that he not only got to spend an entire day with you and your family, but that he got to see how you interact with your family. It’s truly nothing like seeing the love of your life in their safe space with people they trust. He could’ve sat and watched you speak to cousins, aunties, uncles, whoever else and would’ve been completely satisfied. He’d go to bed thinking about the glow you had on your face as you spoke to family members you’d missed, and how he’d heard and seen you genuinely laugh with cousins when recounting old stories, and how you and your family connected over food, music, and fellowship...and yeah, he’d have to admit to himself in the middle of the night, while holding you close, that he couldn’t wait to have that with you in the future.

A/N: I hope that was fun to read, it was certainly fun to write! Once again, this is my first time writing for this character that I just found out about like...two weeks ago, y'all...be patient with me while I'm learning. BUT I'm gonna really try to write more this summer because I definitely won't have time to in the fall, so keep an eye out!

#gekko #gekko valorant #gekko x reader #gekko x you #valorant #valorant gekko #Mateo Armendáriz De la Fuente #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #gekko oneshot #gekko headcanons #gekko fanfic #gekko oneshots #valorant headcanons #valorant oneshots #valorant fanfiction #black authors #black fanartists

49 notes · View notes

emsprovisions · 3 months

Text

Hi y'all! I read so many Tarlos fics this past month so I wanted to do a little highlight of some of my favorites! It was honestly very hard to narrow down the one shots but I tried 😂

Oneshots

Rain on Me by @ironheartwriter Rating: Explicit Word count: 6,622 Why I liked it: Lana has become such a dear friend in such a short time and I said one little thing in a tumblr ask response and something like two days later she busted out 6k words of pure magic! I love this fic, it's so sweet. We get to see our boys have some downtime to themselves and they truly truly deserve it!

breathing deeper than i've ever done by @your-catfish-friend Rating: Explicit Word count: 4,693 Why I liked it: This fic is so hot! This fic is heavy on senses, particularly the sense of smell. There's a part towards the end that really makes me insane where TK and Carlos are taking a shower together and it smells like "TK-and-Carlos" which makes me insane because they really are One.

Butterflies and Sky-High by @paperstorm Rating: Teen and up Word count: 8,031 Why I liked it: Demi!Carlos my beloved. I strongly subscribe to this headcanon and Andie, as always, you have executed it so beautifully! I loved this exploration of Carlos's labels, his spiral, his conversation with Paul, how he finally talked to TK about how he feels, it was all so beautiful.

This is The Sound of You Here and Now by @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut Rating: Mature Word count: 3,040 Why I liked it: I was sick with a cold and asked for sick fics of my boys to get me through those trying times. J, thank you so much for delivering! This was beautiful and genuinely it made me cry. I love how they take care of and love each other.

Long fics

Right Before Your Eyes by Goody Rating: Teen and up Word count: 19,894 Why I liked it: This one is so much fun! It feels like watching an episode, it is that realistic. Your characterization was amazing! Also poor TK, he suffers so much already and we just put him through more! But this was still really good! (and if anyone knows their tumblr, please let me know so I can properly tag them!)

to build a home by @freneticfloetry Rating: Explicit Word count: 63,872 Why I liked it: I don't think I will ever recover from the feels this one gave me. I love Carlos exploration fics. I love how well the angst was balanced with fluff and spicier scenes! I'm working on a wip rn that has definitely been influenced by the layout and flow of this gorgeous fic. It's melancholic in the best way, beautiful, and true to character. I won't stop thinking about it any time soon.

Series

Missing Moments by @paperstorm Works: 34 Complete: no Why I liked it: special shoutout to the fic from this series, Homeward Bound because I think about it often. I really, really love this series. Sometimes I confuse details from canon with details from these fics because they feel so canon to me. We needed the background scenes and you have more than delivered, Andie! Love this series so much and I can't wait to see what you do with the rest!

wherever you stray, I follow by @strandnreyes Works: 2 Complete: no Why I liked it: My latest obsession is this series. TK and Carlos are soulmates and now they get to live for eternity. Sometimes it's a bit bittersweet, especially in the second part, when Carlos thinks about all the changes that will happen to them someday, but they have each other and all the love and time in the world and it is beautiful. I love the setting, I love author Carlos, and I love how you adapted all the other characters and how seamlessly they fit into their roles in Castine. This au is gorgeous and I found myself wishing I didn't have to leave that world so soon. I can't wait for the next installment! I am excited to see where you might take it.

#long post #fic recs #reading roundup #tarlos fic recs #tarlos fanfiction #tarlos fanfics #tarlos #911 lone star fanfiction #911 lone star

36 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

Text

Pink Scarf - Part 20 (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: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N: 🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. 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! Some of you have been asking about this, and 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, 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. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

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

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my 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!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

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

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded. You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips.

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

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

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

530 notes · View notes