#how to draw a gun in easy steps

[augustinewrites]

“you’re an idiot.”

“really, doc? you’re gonna insult me after i came all this way to see you?”

you pause what you’re doing to stare down at wriothesley with a wholly unimpressed look. “you were wheeled in on a stretcher.”

(he’d even come in shirtless, one hand resting behind his head all laid out like a fontanian model in a clothing campaign.)

he dismisses the fact with a wave of his good hand, tsking. “only because sigewinne threatened to tranq me if i didn’t get on!”

you know for a fact that the head nurse is still stationed outside the infirmary in case his grace tries to leave without staying for overnight observation.

“she should have done it anyway,” you hum, taking his wrist and using it to carefully position his arm at his side. you nod at the nurse across from you holding the band to keep him steady. “deep breath now, your grace.”

wriothesley draws a breath and releases it quickly, grinning up at you. “so, what are you— fuck!”

“get him a sling,” you instruct, stifling a laugh as you let go of his arm and step back. “i’ll get him an ice pack.”

the two of you move around the infirmary, quickly gathering supplies as the duke lets loose a string of expletives that would make sigewinne faint.

it’s quite entertaining to see the duke pout, holding a heart-patterned ice pack to his shoulder. “i think i deserve a kiss for that.”

“a kiss is going to help with shoulder pain?”

“duh.”

this time, you don’t stifle your laughter as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips.

you pull a sticker from your pocket, pressing it to his waiting lips. “you were a very brave boy.”

his pucker turns into a pout as he uses his good hand to take the sticker off, sticking it to his discarded gauntlets. he looks more like a puppy than a wolf in this state.

with the worst of it out of the way, you begin tending to any scrapes or bruises.

it should be simple, but wriothesley doesn’t make it easy. he flexes playfully whenever your fingertips brush his biceps. insists on holding your hand when the antiseptic touches his wounds.

“okay, you’re all done,” you tell him, peeling off your gloves and tossing them into the bin. “but you will have to stay overnight so we can monitor you for any concussion symptoms.”

his brows raise as he clicks his tongue, smirking. “oh? are you asking me on a date?”

“no,” you say, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “i’m doing my due diligence as your physician.”

“but it’ll just be me and you and this very romantic lighting…”

“it’s dim light because someone keeps forgetting to put in the order for new ones.”

“they’re dim? hm, i didn’t notice. how could i when your smile lights up the room?”

you roll your eyes when he winks, but can’t help the heat you feel spreading across your face. “if you keep this up, i’ll have sigewinne and her tranquilizer gun stay overnight with you instead.”

“if i stop and you stay, will you at least have tea with me?” he asks, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

“fine, i’ll stay. but only if i get to pick the tea,” you tell him, pulling a chair to the side of his bed and shedding your lab coat to get comfortable. “you’re especially insufferable when you’re injured, aren’t you?”

he reaches out and pulls the chair closer, so you’re sitting between his knees. “and yet, you’re finally succumbing to the temptation of my rock hard abs and winning personality.”

“no,” you deny, but you’d be lying if you said being this close to his spectacularly toned torso wasn’t doing…things to you. “it’s because you have liyue imported tea.”

“yeah,” he says, flashing you a charming, sinful smile that makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, threatening to shatter your resolve. “if you say so.”

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

[say-al0e]

Just Friends

Rating: M | This is smut, minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: Everyone seems to think you’re Jake Seresin’s girl. It’s easier than explaining to them that you’re just friends with benefits. But that arrangement doesn’t seem to be working for either of you anymore. | Ft. “No, you idiot. I’m in love with you.” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anonymous and “You matter to me, you asshole.” + “I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being a pain my ass.” requested by @dreamlandcreations

Warnings: Miscommunication, idiots FWB to lovers, fear of unrequited feelings, jealous!Jake, therapist Bradley, unprotected PinV. (I think that’s it but let me know and I’ll tag anything else)

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.3k (....sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The Hard Deck was, as it always seemed to be on Friday nights, packed to the rafters. A sea of khaki greeted you the moment you stepped inside with Jake following close behind but, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dressed to match. Instead, he’d opted for a pair of jeans, a button-down you’d stolen on more than one occasion, and boots that had seen better days - though he had to be talked out of the cowboy hat, less to protect him from ridicule and more to protect your sanity. However, he still managed to blend into the crowd as you weaved your way through to the bar.

Jake remained close, as he always did, and kept a hand on the small of your back as he nodded his greeting to the handful of familiar faces he came across. The heat from his body bled through the thin material of his shirt - he always seemed to run hotter than the average, warm to the touch on even the coldest of days - and you could feel it warming your skin as he took a half-step closer to allow someone to pass.

Only one stool remained at the bar, the others occupied with the beginning of the night’s rush, and Jake pulled it out for you with a wink and a grin when you squeezed his bicep in thanks.

“Are there more people than usual or have I just not been in in a while?”

The question went unheard by those sitting closest to you, drowned out by the noise of a group cheering in the corner, but he heard you clearly. He leaned in, breath fanning over your neck - the scent of mint gum and that woodsy cologne filling your nose, sending a shiver down your spine that you worked to repress lest he notice - as he laughed quietly. “See, sweets, this is what happens when you avoid going out with me,” he teased, grinning when you rolled your eyes.

Avoiding Jake Seresin was the last thing on your mind. If anything, you’d gotten into a bad habit of altering plans just to spend more time with him and he knew that. Still, you huffed petulantly and shifted to lean against the bar. “If you want to blame anyone, blame my boss.”

Jake waved a hand, teasing, dismissive, and shook his head as he met your gaze. There was an easy amusement in his eyes, dancing across the sharp planes of his face, and you forced yourself to draw in even breaths even as you felt your heart rate skyrocket. “Excuses, excuses,” he drawled, biting back a laugh when you rolled your eyes at him, now second nature, regardless of how difficult it still was to think with his full attention on you. “But I’ll let you have it. Tonight, anyway.”

“How generous of you, Hangman.” It was deadpan, a stoic jab he’d heard a thousand times over, but you couldn’t help yourself as you raised a teasing brow. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a damn saint?”

Another laugh, this one a little louder and drawing the attention of a handful of nearby service members, escaped Jake as he shifted his hand to squeeze your side. The heat of his palm bled through the thin material of your top, sank into your skin and branded his touch into your memory, but you refused to dwell as you focused on his reply. “What can I say, sugar? I’m a giver.”

Despite his reputation - narcissistic, selfish asshole - Jake was, indeed, a giver. He prided himself on giving just as good as he got, if not better, and you were grateful to be on the receiving end. Still, the innuendo made your face heat and had you glancing over your shoulder, just to see if anyone had heard.

With another roll of your eyes, you nudged his side but said nothing. There were moments Jake flustered you silent, struck you quiet with a quick retort, and the thought of his selflessness - in the form of that handsome face pressed between your thighs - had you ducking your head as Jake laughed. He shifted closer, trying to move out of the way, and you sighed quietly as you spared a glance around the bar.

There was no question what you and Jake looked like to anyone who glanced your way - to the table of women who’d clocked Jake the moment he stepped through the door, the group clad in flight suits who’d eyed you as you crossed the room - or anyone who overheard a snippet of your conversation.

The protective hand he kept on you, snug at the small of your back; the way he lingered at your side, body angled toward you, rather than toward the crowd; the way he tipped his head down, pressing himself even closer in an effort to hear you over the din of the bar - the implication was clear. You looked like any other couple, out for a night of drinks with friends, and you only wished it were that simple.

Nothing ever was, especially not when it came to Jake, so you refused to allow yourself to dwell on that thought. You’d resigned yourself to your fate - doomed to be little more than friends with benefits, comfortable with casual intimacy until you began to consider your feelings - and figured Jake didn’t give your situation any thought at all.

Pulling you out of your distraction, Jake nudged your side and tipped his head toward the pool tables in the corner.

Spotting the rest of the group was always easy - they rarely strayed far from the pool tables by the windows, usually busying themselves with a game as they decompressed - and you returned their greetings with a grin and a wave of your own.

Penny, who was manning the bar alone for the time being, shot you both a smile as she placed the same bottle of beer Jake usually ordered on the counter in front of you. It would be a few minutes before she made her way to you, if the crowd was any indication, and you could feel Jake shifting at your side. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d accompanied him to the Hard Deck - you ended up by Jake’s side in the little bar more often than you cared to admit - and had a routine. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” you assured him, laughing as you caught him glancing at the pool table. You turned just in time to see Javy tip his head in invitation, urging Jake to join him in a game against another set of pilots, and nudged his side. “Go ahead. I’m gonna get a drink and people watch. I’ll make my way over eventually.”

Just as he always did, Jake eyed you for a moment, clearly debating being chivalrous. He would offer to remain by your side, wait with you for Penny to make your drink, and guide you over to the pool table to hang out with the others, but you always nudged him away.

When you cut your eyes at him, he relented. “Alright,” he acquiesced, lifting his hands in mock defeat, though he still managed to grin. “I’m going. You need me, you know where to find me.” When you nodded, acknowledging the same declaration he gave every time, he turned his attention to Penny. “Penny, m’dear, her drinks are on me.” She knew that by now - had been given the same instruction at least every other Friday for nearly a year - but still nodded, acknowledging Jake’s insistence.

With that, Jake nodded and squeezed your side gently before heading for the group.

From the bar, you were able to catch sight of the group as he approached and laughed as Rooster pointed at the boots Jake wore with raised brows. Through the din, you weren’t able to make out the comment but knowing the pair, you figured it was a dig at Jake’s fashion sense. True to your assumption, the pair began to trade good-natured jabs and you shook your head as you turned your attention elsewhere.

In the beginning, when Jake first invited you to join him at the Hard Deck - back when you could confidently tell the others that you were just friends, back when you believed that yourself - finding your place amongst the crowd seemed next to impossible.

The bar, once overwhelming and far too busy for someone used to less populated divers, was now familiar. Many of the faces were now ones you knew, ones you’d seen a dozen times over, and most of them would even greet you alongside Jake now. You often marveled at how quickly it seemed to become something akin to a home base, beloved and revered and a highlight of your week, but the thought never lasted longer than a moment. The Hard Deck was part of your life now, just as Jake was, and you weren’t one to question it.

Questions, in general, weren’t asked outright.

Though people stopped to speak with you occasionally, no one ever asked about your relationship status - no one outside of the group of friends Jake managed to make, anyway - and no one needed to. Just friends or not, it was clear to anyone who glanced your way that you were Jake Seresin’s girl.

Knowing that everyone saw you as Jake’s girl eased some of the weight pressing on your chest. It made it a little easier to breathe, made you feel a little more secure as you sat at the bar, but that feeling never lasted very long. It didn’t matter much what everyone else thought, not when you knew different. You weren’t his girl, not really, and that hurt more than you cared to admit.

The little moments, hallmarks of a relationship, were the ones that got you the most.

Jake had no problem placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd or throwing an arm over your shoulders in a brief greeting when you joined him near the pool table, but that was as far as PDA went. 

Not being able to wander over to him, press a kiss to his shoulder, his jaw, the corner of his mouth as he stood with a pool cue and a beer in hand; not being able to warp your arms around his waist and lean fully into him, lose yourself in the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders or the feel of his hand in yours; not being able to love him in the way you so desperately wanted, eager to show him just how deeply you cared, made your chest ache in a way that was growing all too familiar.

It was growing all too difficult to keep up with the charade. Pretending that you were fine with the arrangement you made before you really got to know Jake - before you fell in love with him - seemed to be getting harder by the day but there wasn’t much you could say without losing him entirely. 

And when it came to Jake, you were used to being halfway happy.

There would come a time when halfway happy wasn’t enough, you knew that. But you hadn’t figured out how to live a life without him yet. The vast majority of your free time was spent with him - tucked into his sheets, his body between your thighs; lying on your couch, watching some shitty movie in one of his t-shirts as he lounged in sweats; sitting on the beach, sand covering your entire body and crashing of waves replacing the sound of his soft moans in your ears - and you knew that life without him would be an adjustment.

For now, however, you refused to dwell on what that might look like.

However, as hard as you tried to brush that thought away - the thought that one day, maybe soon, you’d be forced to live a life without Jake Seresin in it - it continued to plague you as you sat at the bar. The crowd shifted around you and you watched, eyes skimming the crowd but not truly seeing, as service members came and went.

The seat beside you had been empty for a while but you really only noticed when a new body filled the void to your right and knocked a knee into yours.

Bradley Bradshaw smiled at you, that soft half-smile he used when he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, before glancing at Penny and raising a hand for her to bring him another beer. When the bottle was placed in front of him, he turned back to you.

“Long time no see,” he began, smile growing a touch more real when you met his eyes. “Where’s Hangman been hiding you?”

A scoff, practiced and easy - hopefully enough to hide the dark cloud that had formed above your head - escaped before you took a sip from your now watered-down drink. “He wishes it was that easy to get rid of me,” you joked, smiling slightly when Bradley laughed. “I’ve just been busy. Work’s been kind of insane.”

Bradley hummed thoughtfully, considering your statement, before taking a sip of his beer. “Explains why Hangman’s been more annoying than usual lately.” The comment was teasing, a jab you’d heard more than once - most of the Dagger Squad claimed that Jake was more manageable with you around - but Bradley gave you no time to dismiss the thought as he continued, “Glad you were able to get out tonight, though.”

The group had been nothing but kind to you, welcoming in a way you hadn’t expected, and your smile grew a little wider as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed readily, “me, too.” Even if you’d driven yourself to distraction, thinking about what may never be, you were truly happy to be back at the Hard Deck. Still, you decided to shift the conversation to Bradley. “How’re you? I’ve heard this first class is… challenging.”

Jake didn’t speak of work often but he’d taken to venting some of his frustration with you, occasionally sharing his annoyance as you lounged in your living room, and you knew that their first class of Top Gun recruits was not the cakewalk they’d imagined. Bradley’s wince seemed to confirm Jake’s assessment.

“I know I wasn’t a saint when I was going through it,” he began, sparing a glance over his shoulder at a group of pilots in the corner, “but I don’t think I was ever that cocky.”

“I’m willing to bet Jake was.”

If the comment surprised Bradley, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he laughed and nodded his agreement easily. “Yeah, he was. Hasn’t changed much, either,” he pointed out, eying him where he stood near the dartboard with Coyote. You knew that it wasn’t exactly a negative observation - Jake and Bradley had grown to be friends, truly fond of one another, despite their differences - and smiled as he returned his attention to you. “Some of these kids are going to give him a run for his money, though.”

“Another Hangman? Yikes. How will the Navy survive?”

Bradley hid his grin behind his beer as he shrugged. “We may never know.”

The conversation tapered off then, a comfortable silence falling over the pair of you as the crowd continued to thrive around you. As Bradley turned his attention to the group of friends he’d wandered away from, you spared a glance at Jake. He hadn’t seemed to notice your new companion yet - or didn’t care enough to glance your way - and the thought made you sigh before returning your attention to Bradley.

It was no secret that Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. His beauty was different than Jake’s - a little less polished, a little rougher around the edges - and there was a certain charm to him that drew people in. Some days, you wondered what life might’ve been like had you met any of the others before Jake managed to sweep you off your feet, but that wasn’t a thought you ever let run very far.

Like it or not, Jake Seresin had you in his clutches. You were in love and there was little you could do to change that.

Still, Bradley seemed to read the look on your face and laughed quietly. A wry smile twisted his lips as he took a pull from his beer. “No offense,” he began as he spared you a sideways glance, “you’re beautiful and if you were here with anyone other than Hangman, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I don’t feel like fighting him. Today, anyway.”

As Bradley glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the dartboard, you allowed your gaze to follow. This time, Jake was already eying you and the expression on his face was unreadable, a stoic mask that you weren’t in the mood to decipher. He hadn’t given you that look in months and you had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be giving you that look were it not for your company.

With a sigh, you returned your attention to the drink in front of you - now melted ice and a hint of vodka. “We’re just friends,” you explained, though the declaration sounded weak in your own ears, hollow and rehearsed, and you were unable to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure who you were really trying to convince; him or yourself.

“Does he know that?” When you tipped your head to fix him with an unimpressed look, Bradley raised a hand in mock defense. “Look, Hangman’s a lot of things - an ass, mostly - but he’s not subtle.”

A snort of agreement - undignified but honest - escaped with a nod. Jake Seresin didn’t believe in subtlety and you were a firsthand witness. Though, that was at least part of the reason you were certain friendship was the only offer on the table.

“Subtle he is not,” you agreed, swirling your glass just for something to occupy your hands, “and he has made it very clear that he’s not interested in a relationship. So, just friends. With benefits.”

“When was the last time you talked about it? Because, I’ll be honest, on that first night, none of us thought we’d see you again. But then you came back,” he reminded you, expression as serious as you’d ever seen it. “It’s been nearly a year. Even when you’re not here with him, he’s with us or Coyote, doesn’t even look at anyone else. We’ve all seen the change in him,” Bradley admitted, knee knocking into yours to get your undivided attention. “There’s more to you and we can all see it. We get Hangman but you get Jake.”

Realistically, there was no reason for Bradley to lie to you. There was no way he could know the fantasy you were certain only existed in the depths of your mind. You considered him a friend - an acquaintance, at least - but you weren’t close enough for him to feel the need to protect your feelings. There was no reason for him to tell you what you wanted to hear but that did little to calm the churning in the pit of your stomach.

The thought that Jake Seresin could love you in the way you loved him, that he could truly want you - all of you, not just the parts that were convenient - seemed impossible. Too good to be true, even.

“Y’know, if flying doesn’t work out, you could make a hell of a therapist.” Bradley fixed you with an unimpressed look, accompanied by a disappointed tilt of his head, at your deflection. “Fine,” you sighed. It was clear that he wouldn’t be swayed, convinced that he was doing you and Jake a favor, so you gave in to the line of conversation. “Sure, I get Jake, but not all of him. I get just enough to break my heart and, honestly, I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Bradley.”

“I try to avoid talking to Hangman at length,” Bradley joked. That was true once upon a time, though things had changed since the first Dagger mission. You knew he wouldn’t be trying so hard unless he truly cared about him - about you both - but the joke still pulled a small smile to your lips as he nudged your knee once more. “You can’t, though. That’s only setting you both up for hurt.”

“Alright, Dr. Bradshaw,” you teased, though it sounded weak in your own ears. Bradley rolled his eyes and you relented with a nod. “Yeah. You’re right, I know. I just… I don’t want to ruin what we’ve got. It’s better than nothing.”

“For now,” he reminded you before sparing a glance over his shoulder. When you followed his gaze, it landed squarely on Jake who was eying the pair of you with a look that you didn’t like very much. It was harder than it had been only moments before, darker. The set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the thin line of his lips - it was a look you’d only seen a handful of times and it tied your stomach in knots. “Looks like you’ll have plenty to talk about tonight, anyway.”

Bradley had the decency to hide his amusement with a pull from his beer as you huffed. “I really don’t like that look.”

“In his defense,” Bradley began, lifting himself from his stool, “I’m pretty sure it’s directed at me, not you.” He shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the weight of Jake’s gaze on his every move, and offered you a final smile as he reached for the new beer Penny left in place of his empty bottle. “Believe it or not, Hangman really is better when he’s with you. He’s tolerable, almost. And I think you’ll both be happier when you talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Another sigh, this one resigned to the fact that your night would end with a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to have, before you shot him a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Bradley.”

With a nod and a tap to the bar, Bradley turned to make his way back to the pool table. You could see the question in Phoenix’s eyes - in the raise of her brow when he returned - but didn’t bother keeping an eye on the conversation as your attention returned fully to Jake.

The moment Bradley wandered away, Jake pressed the remaining darts into Coyote’s hands and made his way through the crowd. He stood close, body radiating a heat that you usually found so comforting, and you nearly held your breath as he offered Penny his card to settle what had to be the smallest tab he’d ever started.

Green eyes, alight with an annoyance that told you Bradley was right - there would, indeed, be a conversation of some type before the night’s end - met yours. Instead of calming the rapid beat of your heart, it only seemed to send you spiraling further when he pressed a hand to the small of your back.

“You looked like you were having fun.”

It was casual - almost dismissive - the way he said it, but you could feel the ice in his comment chilling you to the core. Try as he might to feign nonchalance, you knew him. You could read the acid behind the charming smile he wore and swallowed hard.

This was his way of picking a fight - just as he had the first time a stranger at the Hard Deck hit on you, just as he had the last time a stranger at another bar stood a little too close - and you were in no mood to indulge him. You weren’t interested in admitting you hadn’t really considered anyone else a possibility in months, that you hadn’t even really looked at anyone else since beginning your relationship with him.

Instead, you brushed his hand away and stood from your stool before beginning to nudge your way out of the bar.

There was no doubt Jake was on your heels, so close your could still smell his cologne, but you didn’t dare spare him a glance until you reached the passenger side of his vehicle. When you turned to glance at him, shoulders slumped and backs of your eyes stinging with traitorous tears, the frown on his face drew a weary sigh.

“I’m tired, Jake,” you lied, arms folding over your chest. “Just take me home, please.”

Jake’s hands flexed, desperate to keep himself calm - and to keep himself from falling into the habit of reaching for you, tugging you into his chest and kissing you breathless with the intent of reminding you just whose name sounded best on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sure Rooster would have no problem taking you home. Why don’t you ask him?”

The sneer was unsurprising. Jake’s tried and true tactic in response to any kind of hurt - real or perceived - remained a sharp remark, designed to cut deep and you could feel your own weariness being replaced by annoyance. It tasted bitter, harsh and unfamiliar, as you shook your head. 

“We were just talking.” It took considerable effort to keep your voice even, devoid of the anger you knew he was hoping to draw, but you managed as you met his gaze head on.

Jake scoffed, wholly unconvinced, and smiled that sardonic smile that made you understand why so many people seemed to dislike Hangman - a persona you were fortunate enough to have been beyond. That wasn’t Jake, not the one you knew, and you reminded yourself of that, even as he declared, “Sure didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, Jake, but I wasn’t flirting with Bradley.” The assertion was strong, confident, and accompanied by a glare you hoped would hurt him as much as he was hurting you. “But, honestly,” you began, words spilling into the night air before you could think twice, “so what if I was? I can flirt with whoever I want because we’re just friends. Right?”

A twitch of his jaw, the slightest gesture but telling, was the only reaction you managed to pull from him. Instead, he shut down and that stoic mask - a front, hiding the raging sea that still swirled in the depths of his eyes - returned as he reached for the door handle. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it."

“Then what are we, Jake?” The question was quiet, nearly lost to the crashing of waves, and Jake gave no indication that he’d heard you outside of another tic of his jaw.

No answer was offered, no insight into what ran through his head. Instead, Jake pulled open the passenger door and tipped his chin toward the seat. “Get in.”

While silence with Jake was not uncommon, it had never been uncomfortable. You’d gotten into the habit of spending the odd night together, lying in silence as you both read or scrolled through your phones in the afterglow of sex, but it was comfortable. There was never a weight to it but the silence that lingered on the ride to your place pressed on your chest and constricted your lungs.

Tension, thick and blinding, filled the car, even as Jake pulled into your driveway and shut off the engine. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both staring straight ahead and attempting to gather your thoughts. You were tempted to go inside, leaving Jake behind, and calling it a night. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“You matter to me, you asshole,” you reminded him, voice a whisper in the darkness. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah? Rooster matter to you, too?”

The lack of venom in the question told you that he didn’t mean it. It was a reflex, his go-to when he felt cornered - likely by the realization that tonight would not end the way either of you imagined it would - and you wanted to give him grace. But this had become more frequent lately, a bitter end to nice nights, and had been working your nerves. Combined with the acrid taste of reality you’d doused yourself with earlier in the night, you couldn’t bite your tongue.

With a shake of your head, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to look at Jake. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Jesus, sometimes I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being an asshole.” When Jake rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment, you huffed. “Everyone can see that I’m in love with you, you dickhead. Bradley was trying to convince me that I should say something because it’s been so obvious to everyone but you for nearly a year and I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with just being friends with benefits.”

Jake Seresin was not one to doubt himself, nor was he one to doubt the intentions of others. His romantic exploits had given him a great deal of confidence in navigating conversations about lust or even infatuation, but a confession of love was, undoubtedly, not something he’d been expecting to hear. For just a moment, you could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he blinked and shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

It was clear that he hadn’t been loved in a long while - not by a partner, someone not obligated to love him through blood or shared trauma - and your heart broke as you watched him attempt to process the implication. What you had was safe, a way for him to keep his walls in tact while experiencing a modicum of the affection he so desperately wanted, but it wasn’t enough.

For either of you, it seemed.

Beneath the doubt, the surprise, lingered a glimmer of something bright. You refused to believe that it could be hope - because hope was the thing that would kill you - but you were in too deep to end the conversation there. So, you nodded.

“Yeah, I do. I’m in love with you. I know the lines have blurred in the last few months and a label doesn’t change much but, fuck, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t deal with not knowing where I stand with you. I can’t deal with being called your girl but knowing I’m really not. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay playing house when I can’t even confidently tell my family about you.” With a sigh, you shook your head and admitted, “Half-happy isn’t enough for me anymore, Jake.”

Jake remained silent for a moment, statue still in the driver’s seat, but you could see the emotions flickering in his eyes. A part of you wanted to beg him to speak, to tell you to leave or that he was flattered but it would never work or that he was sorry to have lead you on, but you remained quiet and allowed him to process. And after the longest few moments of your life - in reality, no more than a minute or two - he lifted a warm hand to cup your jaw.

As if in slow motion, Jake leaned over the console and pressed his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. Though you’d kissed him more times than you could count over the last year, this kiss was unlike any other you’d shared. It was rough, passionate and clumsy with a lack of finesse Jake usually possessed, but it spoke volumes. His fingers pressed into the hinge of your jaw, lips warm and searching as he gave himself fully to the embrace.

The warmth of him, overwhelming in the small space, bled into your skin and sent a shiver down your spine as you allowed yourself a moment to indulge. The kiss felt like a goodbye - only comparable to the one you’d shared before Jake left for a weeklong mission - and you weren’t sure if you’d get another.

“Jake, stop,” you mumbled against his mouth, shifting your head as best you could to break the kiss. Despite the hold he kept on you, he allowed you to pull away and remained close as you tipped your head to search his face. There was no hint of what he was feeling, though you took a moment to commit the look to memory - the flushed cheeks, the ruddy lips, the bright eyes - before sighing. “You can’t get out of this conversation with sex.”

“We’re not just friends,” he repeated, voice so soft it made your chest ache. It was a tone you’d only heard once before, in the dim of your bedroom the night he returned, and it was accompanied by a softening of his features as he smoothed a thumb across your cheekbone. “You know it, and so do I.”

Hope, the thing you’d so desperately avoided for so long in relation to Jake Seresin, began to bloom in the pit of your stomach as soft eyes searched your face. That didn’t sound like a goodbye - in fact, it sounded more like a greeting, a welcome to feelings you’d both avoided breathing aloud - but you needed him to say it.

“Jake.” The murmur of his name was pleading, a desperate request for him to confirm that he shared your feelings, and it made him shift just a little closer.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he confirmed, corner of his mouth kicking up in a soft smile as you exhaled. The admittance felt like a jolt of adrenaline and you were half-certain you’d misheard him. But he doubled down and continued, “I have been for months.”

A warmth spread throughout your limbs, bright and burning hot, as you searched his face for any hint of deceit. Jake wouldn’t lie, not about this, but you were still cautious as you leaned into his touch.

Realistically, you knew that Jake had to have felt something for you. You’d been together for months in everything but name - starting with the first night he slept over - but to hear him confirm he felt the same, that he loved you, too, was almost too much. You’d spent so long telling yourself there was no way, that Jake couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, that you needed to hear him say it once more.

“Tell me again.”

Jake smiled, eyes bright even in the dim light filtering in through the window, as he leaned in. “I love you,” he repeated, lips brushing yours and breath fanning across your cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The question escaped before you could stop it, necessary to ask but not one you’d pictured bringing up so soon. Jake, however, seemed to have expected it.

“We said no strings,” he reminded you, shrugging slightly. “Even without them, we were’t seeing other people so I thought you knew and were happy with where we were. You said everyone knew you were in love with me. They knew I was in love with you, too.”

It was as if his answer should’ve been obvious, known to everyone but the two of you, and you realized that Bradley’s insistence you talk to Jake was coming from a place of knowledge rather than intuition. You were Jake’s girl and there was no reason to question it - it was fact, easily seen by anyone who happened to glance, but easy to miss when you were so caught up in your own head.

Still, you couldn��t help but ask, “Then why have you been such an ass lately? More than usual, anyway.”

Despite the huff of laughter that escaped, Jake’s smile quickly fell into a frown as his thumb brushed your cheekbone. He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his answer, before he sighed. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t sure. “This year has been pretty calm,” he began, frown deepening. “I’m usually gone, out of touch for months. I can’t give you what you deserve and I was waiting for you to figure that out. We weren’t seeing other people but there was never a conversation saying we couldn’t.”

“You were jealous?”

A small part of you expected him to deny it - to scoff and insist that Jake Seresin was immune to jealousy - but you could see the hint of insecurity in his eyes. The walls were crumbling in real time, shattering to pieces and baring the depths of his soul, and you couldn’t say you were surprised to see him shrug.

“More like I was just waiting for you to end things, realize a relationship wouldn’t work and move on with someone who could make you happy.”

Jake’s admission told you more than you imagined he intended. Though he’d had his fair share of experience before you, it was clear that very few of his relationships had been more serious than a brief affair. And for all his bravado, his esteem had taken a hit. He saw himself as enough to bed, enough to ogle, but not enough to love and you could feel the ache in your chest grow more prominent as you lifted your own hand to cup his cheek.

The warmth of his skin bled into your palm and you blinked back the sting of tears as Jake turned his head just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “I haven’t even considered anyone else since we met. I know it’s not always going to be easy but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

As soon as you finished speaking, Jake surged forward and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was enough to steal your breath, to express the words he couldn’t quite speak just yet, and you sank into it fully. The seatbelt buckle dug into your skin, uncomfortable but tolerable as you focused on Jake’s touch, and you knew that this was where you were meant to be.

“Come inside,” you urged the moment Jake broke the kiss. Breathless and warm, you knew where the night was headed and didn’t want to lose yourself in the confines of the car.

Jake grinned at your invitation, eyes glittering with an amusement you’d missed, as he pulled away and unbuckled his own seatbelt. “You gonna let me?”

The double entendre was one you’d brought upon yourself but you still rolled your eyes fondly as you headed for the front door. “I hate you,” you called over your shoulder, laughing as he followed you into your home.

“No, you don’t. You love me,” he gloated, countenance brighter than you’d seen it in months as he pushed the door shut and locked it behind him.

“Why, I’ll never know.” 

It was teasing, a taunt that made Jake roll his eyes, but he refused to let it linger as he reached out and gripped your hips. Jake pulled you close, body pressed to yours against the front door, and tipped his head to brush his lips against yours. “Why don’t we put that mouth to better use, sweetheart,” he proposed, smirking as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jake gave you no chance to respond. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours once more, captured your lips in a searing kiss that lit a flame to the already smoldering embers of arousal settling in the pit of your stomach. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips, pulled you as close as he could manage, and you knew there would be a reminder of his touch left in the morning.

The kiss tasted of mint and a hint of alcohol, achingly familiar in a way you never expected to love, and stole your breath as his hands slipped beneath the hem of your top. As his fingers skated across your skin, calloused and warm, he began to wander backward in the direction of your bedroom.

As many times as you’d done this, making the trek to your room was easy. You managed to avoid causing any damage - to your furniture or yourselves - and only broke the kiss the moment you stepped through the doorway.

Jake was always a sight to behold, golden and beautiful in even the worst moments, but there was something about him in moments like this that made you want nothing more than to observe him. There was a hint of pink dusting the tops of his cheeks, his lips ruddy and kiss swollen, and his hair mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“You can take a picture if you want,” he teased, grinning as he reached for the hem of your top. “Give you something to get off to when I’m away.”

“Fuck off,” you huffed, though it lacked venom entirely as you allowed him to strip the garment and toss it into a corner. “How do you want me?”

“You’re letting me choose? Damn, you must really love me.” Jake laughed at the look you shot him - unimpressed, though it was a struggle to hide your amusement - and knocked your hand away from the button of your jeans. “Hands off. That’s my job.” As the denim fell to the floor, exposing you to his hungry gaze, he whistled lowly. “Fuck, sugar, you get better every time. Lie back for me. I wanna take my time with you.”

With Jake, there was never any shame. He made you feel wanted, desired in a way no one else had, and you reveled in the feeling of his gaze roving your skin. He knew every inch of you, had been privy to this view more times than you could count, but something about the look in his eyes made you feel truly seen. It was as if he were looking at you for the first time all over again and you offered him a sultry smile as you settled onto the bed.

“It’s not fair I’m nearly naked and you’re fully clothed. Lose the jeans, cowboy.” Jake grinned at your order, however teasing it was, and readily shucked off his button-down and jeans. Just as he had, you let out a low whistle and winked when he approached the foot of the bed. “I hate to boost your ego but, Jesus, you’re hot.”

Jake didn’t bother responding. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and settled above you, caging you between his arms and grinning when you shuddered at the feeling of his heated skin meeting yours. He was careful not to settle his full weight onto you, only pressed enough to feel him, and leaned in to ghost kisses along the curve of your jaw.

Warm hands skated across your exposed skin, fingers tracing a path of fire down your arm, across your stomach, along the band of your panties, as he pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below your ear. There was little doubt he could feel the way your heart hammered beneath his lips, racing with every shift of his body, and you could feel his mouth curve into a smirk as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

“What d’you want, sweets? All you gotta do is ask, and I’ll give it to you,” he promised, calloused fingers skating along the top of your mound.

Every twitch of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine, had your heart rate doubling and set your skin alight. He was so close to where you wanted him and you knew that this time, he would give in the moment you asked. As your fingers threaded in his hair, nails raking through the mussed strands, you shifted your hips and sighed.

“Touch me, please.” The plea was soft, whispered in his ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he exhaled heavily. When he didn’t move, fingers still against your skin, you whispered the words you knew would set him in motion. “Always make me feel so good,” you praised, one hand falling to his shoulder as your nails lightly scraped across his skin. “No one else could ever compare.”

“Damn right.” The praise, as expected, spurred him on. Jake’s hand slipped lower, fingers gliding through the slick between your thighs, and he groaned at the feeling. “Fuck, so wet, sugar. Just for me?”

“Always for you,” you confirmed, nails digging into his shoulder as his thumb brushed your aching clit. “Only for you.”

A soft sigh escaped as Jake coated his fingers in your slick, mouth pressed to your skin as he nipped at the delicate skin of your throat, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. He knew exactly how to press your buttons, how to push you over the edge with only a few swipes of his fingers or tongue, and you arched into the feeling of his mouth traveling lower as he pressed his fingers into your entrance.

Jake trailed kisses down the column of your throat, across the delicate skin of your collarbone, and winked when he reached your breasts. He nipped at the soft skin, just enough to send a jolt down your spine, before he continued his descent. When he reached the band of your panties, he took the material between his teeth and began to tug, only removing his fingers from your center to rid you of the material.

Before you could whine at the loss, Jake gripped your thighs and parted them just enough to shoulder his way between them. He pressed himself as close as he could, placed one of your thighs over his shoulder, and turned his head to mouth at the soft skin of your thigh as his fingers returned to your center.

Every drag of his fingers was purposeful, slow and deliberate and designed to have you seeing stars, and you could feel the band in the pit of your stomach growing taut as his thumb circled your clit. Those eyes, blown black with lust, lifted to your face as your fingers threaded in his hair once more, and you nearly came from the sight alone.

Having Jake between your thighs, fingers dripping your slick and focus entirely on your pleasure, was more of a power trip than anything you’d ever experienced. Every nerve ending felt like a live wire, jolts of pleasure shooting down your spine as his fingers pressed deeper and deeper, and you could only manage to cry out his name as the first orgasm - of many, you were sure - washed over you.

“There we go, sweets,” he encouraged, breath fanning over your center and making you cry out, “look so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me. Can I have a taste?”

Despite the aftershocks, the tension in your thighs and the difficulty you seemed to have finding the words to convey your pleasure, you used the grip on his hair to tug his face closer to your center. Luckily, you’d been here before - knew one another well enough to speak without words - and Jake took your answer for what it was worth.

Jake’s mouth was sinful and you could feel him smirk at the moan that filled your room as he swiped his tongue through your folds. He returned the noise, groaning at the taste of you, and gripped your thighs to tug you closer. The feeling of his fingers, slick with your release, pressing into your skin coupled with the broad swipes of his tongue, desperate to push you over the edge once more, sent your pulse skyrocketing as you tugged his hair and ground your hips in search of relief.

The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming in the most perfect of ways, and you knew that he would spend his night between your thighs, if you let him. His nose brushed your clit with every tilt of his head, tongue lapping at the release you’d already given him, and you could see stars bursting behind your eyelids as he doubled down on his ministrations and returned his fingers to your center.

That second orgasm - truly, a continuation of the first as he hadn’t let you come down - had your back arching from the bed and your fingers gripping Jake’s hair, just a little too tight. He pressed his free hand to your hip, eager to keep you in place, and hummed as he lapped at the release you gave him.

While you knew he would keep going, push you to a third release with his mouth and fingers if you let him, you used your grip on his hair to weakly tug him away as the stimulation began to grow overwhelming. Your thighs shook beneath his hands and your breath came in heaving pants, unable to fill your lungs quick enough, and Jake grinned as he lifted his head.

“Tastes like heaven,” he declared, laughing only when you huffed a breathless noise of amusement. “You good, or you need a minute?”

As Jake shifted, hand on your hip and eyes searching your face in search of an answer, you beckoned him closer. Despite the evidence of your slick coating his mouth and chin, you tugged him in for a kiss and sighed into it as he eagerly returned the embrace.

Against your hip, you could feel the evidence of his arousal - small wet patch blooming against the fabric of his briefs, cock straining and weighing heavily against your skin - and you shifted your hips, just enough to make him groan.

“I’m good,” you assured him, voice hoarse with pleasure and still breathless. “Please, wanna feel you.”

Jake sighed as your hands, lightly trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, trailed along his torso to the band of his briefs. He shifted, just enough to allow you to nudge them down, before tugging them the rest of the way off and tossing them to join your clothes. 

The weight of his body pressed to yours, skin warm and slick with the lightest sheen of sweat, had you keening as the tip of his cock brushed your clit before nudging your entrance. Jake inhaled sharply at the feeling, fingers digging into the skin of your hip, and only moved when you begged him to.

Jake pressed forward, moving slowly to give you a moment to adjust, and leaned forward to press his forehead to yours when your nails sank into his shoulder once more. “You can take it, sweets,” he encouraged, voice brittle as he sank into you. “Fuck, I know you can take it. Always so good for me.”

Each sensation felt magnified as Jake settled fully inside of you. The weight of his body pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the rough pads of his fingers as they stroked your hipbone to calm you as your muscles twitched with overstimulation, every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched your walls; everything felt overwhelming in the most beautiful way possible and you couldn’t help the pleading moan that escaped as Jake shifted his hips experimentally.

With your approval, Jake began to move slowly. Each thrust was methodical, deep and searching for that spot that had you seeing stars, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he began to build a satisfying rhythm. With an experimental shift of his hips, the tip of his cock nudged a spot that drew a gasp from you and he grinned triumphantly.

“Right there?” When you moaned, unable to do more than tangle your fingers in his hair and tug him impossibly closer, Jake nipped at the curve of your jaw. “That’s it,” he encouraged, hand snaking between your bodies to rub at your aching clit. “Tell me how it feels, sweets,” he demanded, voice rough in your ear as he shifted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. “Feel good?”

The shattered moan you released, keening and so desperate it made his hips stutter, wasn’t quite enough. It spurred him on, had his hips moving faster, and you cried out at the lewd sound of his hips meeting your skin. “So,” the answer was split by a broken moan, a sharp gasp as he hiked your thigh around his waist for a better angle, and Jake smirked at the way your eyes rolled back.

“So, what,” he pressed, seeking an answer that he knew you were nearly unable to give. “I need an answer, pretty girl. If I don’t get one, you don’t get to come.”

Jake’s threat wasn’t empty - he’d never left you truly hanging but he had taken a particular liking to edging, pulling you to the brink only to push you back until you gave in to his requests - and you whined at the way his hips slowed the longer you took to answer.

“So good,” you cried out, finally able to catch your breath just enough to answer. “Fuck, so good!”

He hummed, pleased by your answer, and began to pick up the pace once more as your hand returned to his hair. Though breathing was difficult enough, oxygen hard to come by even in gasps, you still dragged him in for a kiss that was more a clash of lips and teeth and tongue than a true embrace as your vision began to white around the edges.

Jake could read you better than a well-loved novel, saw the signs before you could, and pressed your hips into the mattress as he sank deeper and deeper. His thumb worked tight circles over your clit, just as desperate for you to fall over the edge as you were, and you could feel his gaze searing into your skin as you came for the third time.

The ringing of your ears nearly drowned out the sound of Jake’s groan, deep and desperate as he snapped his hips a few more times in search of his own release. Every inch of your skin felt too warm and air felt impossible to come by, but you rode out the wave with the help of Jake’s hands skating across your skin.

Jake fell to the mattress at your side, careful to remain close but keep enough distance to make you comfortable, and for a few long moments, the only noise in the room was the ragged sounds of you both attempting to catch your breath.

When you could feel your temperature returning to normal, the tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes leaving, you moved your hand just enough to grab his and intertwine your fingers. “You have such a praise kink,” you teased, still breathless and voice hoarse with use as you turned your head to find Jake already looking at you.

Instead of denying it, Jake laughed and squeezed your hand. “I want to make sure my girl feels good,” he defended, shrugging as best he could. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I keep feeding your ego, but you’ve never left me wanting,” you assured him, rolling your eyes when he smirked. “So, I’m your girl now?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he tugged you closer. “You’ve been my girl for a while now,” he reminded you. “Nothing changes except I can tell people to fuck off if they get too close.”

With a sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder and tipped your chin just enough to meet his gaze. As his fingers brushed along the heated skin of your side, warm and threatening to lull you to sleep, you tapped his chest. “I’m yours. The jealousy thing isn’t cute. You can’t lose your shit every time I talk to someone. You’re the only one I want and you have to trust that. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” he promised, gaze softening. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to take my fears out on you. It won’t happen again,” he assured you.

Though there were still questions to be answered and a conversation to be had, you trusted that you were on the same page. And as he brushed at your heated skin, fingers skating across your back and side, you drifted to sleep with the knowledge that you were Jake’s girl, just as you had been all along.

__________________________________________________

Author’s Note: How did we get here. My smut is rusty and I need to practice. But instead I’m working on Hangman angst. Whoops.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @xlynnx07, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @prettymucheveryothernamewastaken, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name​

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (3) - Scream

Cover by: @ortegalvr

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 2.8k

-Scream! When the fire burns me, when it's hard to break free-

This scene was going to be your undoing. Action scene? Perfectly done, easily done, but then this part. Where Ghostfaces had Tara and C/N captured? You just couldn’t get it right. Nothing felt right, either one of the Ghostface lines would get messed up, or someone would miss a que. Jenna’s voice broke once, and you were having issues getting into character as well, unable to get what C/N was feeling across.

And then it just clicked.

“Fuck you,” Jenna gritted out when Ghostface was meant to taunt Tara that C/N didn’t protect her and you felt the prop knife touching the left side of your back, prompting you to gasp for breath but not scream. You widened your eyes, acting like you were in shock and pain.

The focus was on Jenna as she expertly delivered the pain, the despair Tara felt as Ghostface told her she would need to shoot your character.

When the gun was pointed at you and Jenna whimpered you followed the cue and gasped, and while the camera focused on Jenna you quickly tossed the shirt you had on aside in favor of the more damaged one. You all wanted to do this in one take, so this was the solution.

"I'll do anything else, whatever you ask, just please not this!" you were amazed at how hoarse Jenna could make her voice. Not to mention all the emotional range she was showing right now. "Please, anything but this!"

The scene went on, uninterrupted, you felt like you had it, like this was the take you needed. "I don't know what you are screaming about, Tara. You got what you wanted right? You didn't kill Y/N," the words and the prop knife messing around Jenna’s bandaged hand were your signal.

You had no idea where it came from, but Jenna crying out pulled something out of you. “Stop that!” you raged, akin to a wild wounded beast, so intense it frightened even you and nearly made Jenna herself break the character. It wasn’t meant to sound that raw, but the scene continued.

She recovered, as great as she was, acting like she was having an asthma attack and you could see she researched it for days until she could get all the symptoms right.

“Tara!” and carried by the intensity of the previous scream you yelled, desperation you never felt before clear in your voice. It was a harrowing cry, of someone fearing the loss of their loved one, of the only person they had in the world. "You won! I can't fight back! Just let her go!"

And then, when it came the time to top even that, to escalate it even further, to have Jenna show Tara’s dedication to your character despite the asthma, she delivered. Jenna pleaded, her voice sounding like she was choking, drowning, unable to draw breath, yet just as desperate as you were. For a moment you even believed she was having an asthma attack, that was how good she was. The scene felt easy after that as you picked Jenna up, while faking that it was difficult and stepped back into the hospital room.

“Cut!” Tyler yelled and you dropped down onto the floor, emotionally drained from all the takes. The scene was supposed to go on a bit longer, but it looked like he had some mercy in him. “Great job! Jenna, Y/N, that was incredible. We’ll continue tomorrow, you both deserve to rest,” he said, before congratulating the rest of the crew present on the long day of work.

“Y/N?!” Jenna jumped to her feet from the bed, and you just gave her a thumbs up.

“I’m okay, just never had to film a scene that intense,” you gave her a slightly tired, but still reassuring smile and she relaxed, sitting back down on the bed, the exhaustion now present in her eyes as well. “And you’ve been doing intense scenes for years, damn, you’re amazing,” you got up and sat down next to her, before falling back onto the bed.

“I’m anything but amazing,” she dared to say and you abruptly sat up, in fact you sat up so quickly she turned and looked at you, her eyes wide as you watched her intensely.

“You are, and I’ll keep saying that until I get it into your head,” you promised, the tips of your fingers touching hers.

Jenna opened her mouth and then closed it, before finally regaining her composure. “Thanks, Y/N,” she muttered. “You’ll sleep really well tonight, you’ll see. Scenes like this are draining,” she promised, and you nodded, trusting her entirely. "And you were amazing as well," she spoke up, completely certain of her words.

"Happens every now and then," you grinned and she rolled her eyes, as if telling you: 'see, you do it too' but the fond smile on her face made your heart skip a beat.

~X~

Jenna was right, you just barely managed to get ready for bed. Hell, you were surprised you didn’t fall asleep on your feet. Your phone buzzed as you crawled under the covers and you nearly ignored it, but for some reason you reluctantly took it and saw it was a message on Instagram from Jenna.

Jenna Ortega: Hey, are you asleep?

Y/N L/N: Barely hanging on

Jenna Ortega: Oh, sorry, sleep well, Y/N.

That woke you up and you pressed the call button. It rang a few times and then she picked up. “Please go to sleep,” she opened with that and despite still being a bit sleepy you chuckled.

“Tell me what’s up?” you asked, sitting up so you wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of the call.

“I just wanted to wish you good night,” for an actress she sucked at lying, and you just grinned.

“Jen, tell me what’s really going on?” you asked as you got comfortable.

She remained silent for a bit, before sighing. “I, I think I’m suffering from insomnia, I can’t fall asleep and I wasn’t sure who else to call. I don’t want to worry my family, and I just, I don’t know, I,” she huffed, frustrated, and you just gave her time, letting her sort her thoughts out. “We filmed so many scenes together, and I know you are tired, but I just impulsively sent that message. I was hoping you were already asleep,” she told you.

You nodded, too late realizing she couldn’t see you. “Do you want to talk? Maybe you’ll have easier time falling asleep like that?” you suggested, not really sure what would help with insomnia. You’d have to search that up tomorrow.

“You don’t mind?” she asked, prompting you to reassure her and tell her you definitely didn’t mind. “Tell me a bit about yourself? Something I don’t know? Like how did you get into cooking and martial arts?”

“Hm, let’s see. I spent a lot of my time at my neighbor’s house, playing with the siblings living there. Their mother was a great cook and would always make us snacks, either pastries or cookies, or cake, I never saw some of those recipes in my life. Well, it was natural, they emigrated from the Balkans decades ago, when she was a child if I remember correctly,” you began the tale of your childhood.

Jenna hummed, sounding a lot more interested than sleepy.

“I fell in love with the recipes, and she was willing to teach me. So, when I wasn’t playing with her children I’d learn how to cook from her, starting with easier things and gradually moving onto the various cakes and pastries. It was freeing, I needed to focus, I needed to be precise, to keep practicing so I could improve, and I guess I needed that at that age. Around the same time I began learning martial arts, pretty much for the same reason, and to find a better way to spend time,” and so you told her about your martial arts journey as well, about which martial arts you started with, about things you enjoyed, things you fond annoying, reasons you were passionate about them. And eventually, you caught the sound of Jenna’s breathing evening out. You still talked though, until you were sure she was in deep sleep.

“Sweet dreams, Jen,” you smiled and closed your eyes, letting the long-awaited sleep overtake your exhausted body.  

~X~

A few days later you were once again filming way out of order, going all the way to the end of the movie, or well, near the end.

“Are you okay with this scene?” you asked Jenna as the two of you sat in hair and makeup. Considering what the characters were going through makeup was mostly there to make both of you look more exhausted. You were alone so you took the chance to ask her.

Jenna looked at you and smiled as much as she could, but you could see a bit of worry in her eyes. “Of course, we already did a lot more than that,” she joked and well, you guessed that was one way to look at it.

You raised your fist up toward her and grinned, choosing not to comment on her worry. “If you feel uncomfortable at any moment, just tell me and I’ll get them to scrap it, say I don’t want to do it,” and you were completely serious.

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked you in the eyes. “You can’t do that, you’ll sound unprofessional,” she sounded more worried now, and it was not what you wanted to do. And she didn’t bump your fist, so you pulled it back, not noticing that she bit her lower lip a bit as you moved your fist away.

You shrugged. “I’d rather be unprofessional than have you feel uncomfortable,” there was no hesitation in your tone, no doubt, no wavering of your conviction. No matter what you felt like your priority was to have your costars be comfortable, now sure, you wouldn’t go up to the directors or writers and demand changes for any costar, but this was Jenna, and she, well in these past few weeks she became incredibly important to you. Important enough to act unprofessionally if needed.

You watched as Jenna looked down, a hint of a blush appearing on her cheeks as she refused to meet your eyes, but you could see a small, shy smile on her lips, proving to you that she did appreciate it.

“I’m comfortable with you,” she told you, finally meeting your eyes as more people came in.

~X~

This was it; this was the scene she was the most nervous about. She recently became a bit self-conscious about kiss scenes, she didn’t lie though. Jenna was truly comfortable with you, felt a connection she couldn’t deny, so strong and fast she almost didn’t want the shooting to wrap as soon as it would. You’d stay in touch, she had no doubt about that, but it always felt awful to separate without knowing if you’ll ever spend more time together or just see one another in passing.

You and she took your spots as the crew got ready to film, there weren’t as many people around, giving the two of you a bit more privacy for the scene. “Action!”

For once she didn’t black out, which was a strange experience, it made her feel more self-conscious, but she guessed it sold Tara’s uncertainty even better since no one was stopping her. She was to take the lead, your character not wanting to push Tara into anything. Funny how you took that approach with her as well, outside of your characters, outside of the movie, outside of being costars, and she did something unprofessional. She wasn’t reaching up with her right hand and touching C/N, she was touching your cheek.

You leaned into her touch, parting your lips slightly. “Tara,” you whispered, soft, protective, your voice filled with relief and love, exactly what was needed from you as you gently wrapped your arms around her shoulders and upper back, avoiding the injuries Tara was meant to have. Jenna hugged you, her right palm resting on the nape of your neck, tugging you lower as she placed her bandaged left hand on your back.

The question in your eyes, the one last chance for her to tell you she wasn’t comfortable, to back away, to quit being unprofessional was presented to her, yet she, against the script, ran her fingers through your hair, gently scratching the back of your head and raising her head. She kissed you, and for a moment she wasn’t Tara, she was herself, kissing you, and it scared her how right it felt, how soft your lips felt against hers. And under the lights and cameras filming the two of you she realized something she didn’t think would happen to her.

How easy it was to act with you, how easy it was to talk or randomly send you a text while she was getting ready for bed, how easy it was to forget herself and lean on you while watching a movie, before moving away, blushing madly only for you to nudge her a bit and close the distance so your shoulders would touch, a smile on your face telling her you didn’t mind. She had a crush on you. A tiny, still growing crush, but a crush nonetheless.

In the midst of the kiss, the soft and tender way your lips moved in sync, she remembered why this was happening, she remembered Tara was supposed to be in love with your character for years, that the kiss was meant to be hungrier, needier, raw and filled with emotion. That it was only meant to start soft, and she hummed into the kiss, channeling the desire Tara was meant to feel. The two of you parted for a second, with Jenna taking a noticeable breath and then kissing you again. She finally blacked out, letting Tara’s feelings take over. The kiss grew fiercer, more passionate, and that was when your part came in, to reign it in, prevent Tara from losing herself in the moment. And then you separated, breathing a bit labored as you pressed your forehead against hers and she leaned most of her weight on you.

“Cut! That was great you two!” Matt praised you as you and Jenna stepped away from one another.

Jenna nodded, but there was a feeling she couldn’t shake off.

How rushed the kiss felt, how much Tara and C/N went through. “It doesn’t feel right though,” she sent you an apologetic smile, hoping you’d understand it had nothing to do with the actual kiss you shared, it was just from the story perspective.

“How come?” Matt asked, puzzled, and maybe, and maybe it was just Jenna’s anxiety, just a bit annoyed. Well, this was supposed to be the big kiss of the movie.  

She wasn’t too surprised when you took her side immediately. “Tara just killed her toxic girlfriend, C/N just reconnected with Susan, they are both vulnerable, too vulnerable to get into a relationship,” you leaned back against the wall and glanced at Jenna. The smile on your face told her you were completely with her on this and she felt her heart beating faster, the realization of her crush on you returning full-force.

“Look, it’s a movie, we can’t exactly spend half an hour dealing with all the trauma between them,” Matt ran his hand through his hair. “I get your point, I really do, but we’ve been building this relationship up from the first scene you two have together.”

“And it’s built up, the kiss isn’t needed to establish them together. They’ve slept on the same bed, in each other’s arms, risked their lives for one another, C/N calls Tara ‘Love’, Tara killed for C/N, I don’t think anyone needs to see them kiss to know where their relationship is going,” you countered.

“So, if the sequel gets greenlit, we just jump into their relationship? That isn’t satisfying,” he sighed, looking at the couple from a commercial standpoint and not the story of the two characters that frankly weren’t ready for a relationship in this exact moment. In Jenna’s mind at least a few months would need to pass.

“Maybe we could make a short movie, make a storyline for them getting together and release it just before the sequel if we end up filming one?” Jenna suggested.

Matt nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, it’ll help avoid censorship at the very least.”

He stepped outside and you approached Jenna. “It had nothing to do with us, I was comfortable kissing you,” Jenna admitted, feeling like her face was on fire.

“I understand Jen, don’t worry about it,” you grinned, and she felt relieved as she raised her fist and you bumped your own fist against hers.

A/N: That took a long time. Hope you like it, tell me what you think?

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths (It's been a while, I hope I didn't forget anyone 😅😅)

[lavenderlacedquill]

Angst idea: Will and Y/N are working on an investigation together and she gets seriously hurt. Since they had a heated argument before, she tries to hide her injuries but eventually feels dizzy due to the blood loss and he gets startled and rushes to help her.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Trigger Warnings!: Blood, injury, guns

This request has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS waiting until I could properly dedicate time to it. This angst piece was so fulfilling to write and I hope it was everything you hoped it would be!

My Masterlist <3

✧˖°

“No, absolutely not!” Will’s voice rang through Jack’s small office on desperate ears. His eyes meet yours, filled with a sad craze as he directs his attention back to you. “You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Your heart lurches in your chest, because you completely understand where he is coming from. What Jack is asking from you is no small ask. Your eyes fall to the floor as a whisper leaves your lips hurriedly, “What other choice is there, Will? He’s going to keep killing unless it’s me who goes in.”

The man’s eyes whip to Jack’s, his hair ruffled from his stressed hands running through it. Will’s calloused palms run stressily over his face, covering his eyes as he speaks through them to the Agent. “I’ll do it,” He begins, desperation laced in every word because how could this really be on the table right now? “Please, Jack. Just let me go in instead. Do you know how dangerous this is going to be?”

Jack gives out a hefty sigh. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Putting you in a direct line of danger was not his first choice, but it’s the only way that he knows will draw out the unsub. The threats the FBI has received over the last few weeks were alarming, each one bigger than the last. You’re the one he wants, and he won’t settle for anything less. The perfect crime. 

“I need both Graham’s on this. End of story. I’m not going to let anything happen.” His measly attempt at reassuring the frazzled man before him doesn’t make a dent, but the Agent walks out of the office without another word, making intense eye contact with you just before the door closes. 

Your eyes dart from Will to the ground, your arms wound tightly around your middle as you sway softly where your feet have planted themselves. “I don’t like this either, Will. But we have a job to do.”

You hear the soft padding of his footsteps for only a moment before his arms find their way around you, taking you into a soft and protective hold, almost like he’s shielding you from an invisible force. His stubbled cheek meets your temple as his rough whisper sounds, “Using you as a pawn is never going to sit right with me. Jack doesn’t understand just how dangerous this is. He could-”

You step out of his hold quickly, cutting his words short, “I’ll be okay,” you begin, your hands coming up to hold Will’s face. “You’ll get to me before anything happens. Then it will all be over.”

The wheels in Will’s brain begin to turn, you can see it as his eyes almost begin to tremble in their sockets while he looks over you. He leans in, closing the small gap between you two, a soft kiss burning into your forehead for only a few seconds before he moves towards the door. 

It’s go time. 

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

The back of the unmarked van that Jack and Will are cramped in grows mustier as they both breathe, Will continuing to get more and more anxious as he waits for Jack’s queue to burst onto the scene. 

Your voice sounds in the headset he has practically pasted to his ears, but all seems to go quiet for only mere seconds as the weight of this entire fucked situation hits Will. You’re in the hands of a killer. One that has murdered anyone that he could get his hands on that bears any resemblance to you. He’s got you. No vest. No gun. The FBI, Jack, handed you over willingly.

 Thank you for all of your notes. I looked forward to them everyday.

You did? Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t get them. 

I did. 

Your conversation with the unsub snaps Will out of his trance, Jack grabbing his arm as they both listen intensely to each word. He can hear you trying to keep your tone even as you speak to him, but he can hear its subtle tremble. You’re scared and it’s killing him. 

I’m sorry I had to kill the others. I didn’t want to, I swear. You’re just…perfect. Getting to you was impossible. 

Each word the unsub speaks grows sinister, his voice dropping to a whisper as he approaches you. The agents can’t see it, but he’s got you sat at his dinner table, your hands bound by a zip tie. Can’t let you get away from me now! 

Pictures of you litter the entire thing, moments you didn’t realize were a victim of watchful eyes. Moments of you coming and going from work, intimate moments you shared with Will in the safety of your own home, pictures of you changing in your bedroom. Pure terror has you paralyzed. Jack knew it was bad, so did Will. But no one could have prepared you for this. 

Beyond the table, the images cover the floor in a disgusting blanket, bloodied footprints gluing them to the linoleum below. The walls are covered in a layer of red haphazard writing, crucifixes hanging in any empty space. Every light socket is filled with a shattered bulb, the room dimming as the  evening sun begins to set. A stench of dead lingers in the air, thick and musty in each breath you force your body to take. 

WIll can hear your struggle from his headset, his eyes catching Jacks in a desperate attempt to get the go ahead to rush onto the scene. He just wants this to be over. 

Let’s take a field trip. I’ve got something to show you.

The agents hear your chair scrape against the floor, with only their imagination to guide them as a sliding door sounds through your mic. They hear you wince softly as you stumble and hit the ground. 

You silly girl! Always been so clumsy.

Will’s own breath begins to quicken as he grabs Jack's shoulder intensely. “We need to go in. Now.”

Crawford only sends him an intense glare before turning his attention back to the feed from your mic. He hasn’t gotten what he wants from the unsub yet, so interfering would only put you in more risk. 

You're dragged harshly by your arm as he pulls you up from the ground, a scrape on your side burning from air exposure, hot with running blood. The world seems to be closing in around you as he brings you to the edge of an empty swimming pool, the bottom completely covered in lit candles and splotched red splatters. He leans down, speaking directly into your ear. The disgusting heat of his breath spreads across the side of your face. 

You’re the last piece. My sacrifice to Him before I can finally ascend. 

You break at his words, everything feeling suddenly too real as you hear a gun cock just inches from your head soundtracked by his maniacal laughter. A quiet sob escapes you, sending a dagger through Will’s stomach as he hears you continue to break through your mic. He throws the headphones off, sending them clattering to the van floor as he straps on his vest, gun in hand. 

Jack tries to protest, but Will shrugs him off, opening the van door and jumping out. “It’s done!” He yells back at the agent, slamming the door behind him as he slowly treds across the street to the unsubs yard. A fence is all that blocks him from you as he approaches the backyard. 

Will listens carefully as the exchange continues between yourself and the man they’re trying to apprehend. 

It was always you, my dear! And now we can finally be His forever. 

The cold metal of the barrel meets a small patch of exposed skin on your stomach. You try to move away as best as you can, but the man only grips you harder, pressing the gun deeper into your belly. 

“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this!” You sob, any ounce of hope leaving you as the metal grows warm against your skin. He laughs behind you again, shaking your body as it only grows more intense. 

That’s where you’re wrong, silly thing. 

BANG….BANG

The gunshots sound through the air, leaving Will Breathless as he breaks through the fence. Only, who’s eyes he meets aren't the assailants, no, they’re Jack’s. His shock only takes over him for a moment before he hears a soft whimper emit from the ground, a pained cry he would recognise anywhere. 

Everything goes quiet at the sight before him. The unsub lays dead, facedown in the grass, his blood seeping into the dirt. The second gunshot, Will will deduce later, caused by Jack, who went around the other side of the house. But only a few feet away from him lays your trembling body, your hands desperately trying to hide your gushing wound. 

You almost look dead, your skin growing pale against the bright green grass, life slipping through your trembling fingers. 

Jack calls for medical as Will collapses onto the ground beside you, his own hands frantic as they try to remove yours from your stomach. “No no no no,” you call weakly beneath him, trying your best to conceal your wound from him, almost as if to undo it, “I’m ok-okay.” 

Tears trail down the raw skin of your cheeks as Will pries your hands away, peeling his own jacket hastily from his shoulders to press onto your wound, a pained cry escaping your throat at the pressure. 

“I know i know i know,” You feel Will’s palm wipe the tears from your eyes as he tries to comfort you amidst the pain, his head dipping down to rest his forehead on your own, “I’m sorry, baby. I know.”

“I-it hurts” your lips quivering at the admission. Your form begins to tremble in his hold, blood loss weighing heavily on you. Jack watches as his fellow Agent begins to break above you, his own shoulders beginning to shake. He hears the distant calls of an ambulance, rushing to the street to guide them back to you.

“Stay with me,” Will moves to pull you into his lap, holding you still from your shakes to prevent any jostling of your wound. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his palms continue to press into your middle, warm blood covering his hands. “Please. Stay awake for me. You’re going to be okay.”

He pulls your head from his neck as he speaks, eyes searching yours for any sign, but he only finds you teetering between consciousness. Your head lulls back to its spot, a soft cry of Will’s name leaving you before he feels you go limp against him. 

“JACK!” The broken man cries, gripping your body to his, as if he could pass some of his life into you in this moment. His lips find your temple, kissing you softly, like you’re one crack away from breaking into millions of pieces. 

Somewhere in the mix, paramedics arrive, peeling your tattered body from Will’s hold, his begs of them to be careful and gentle with you are heard by every official on sight. 

They strap you onto the gurney, loading you up into the back of the ambulance before eagerly preparing for departure. You needed a hospital, and you need one now. 

The paramedic signals for Will to load himself into the back of the vehicle, knowing that he won’t respond well to having to travel separately, but before he can step inside, Jack’s hand grabs his shoulder. 

“Will, I’m-”

“Don’t.” The man shoots back, red eyes intentionally dodging Jacks before the door is closed between them. 

Will settles in on the small bench inside of the ambulance, his hand holding yours in his own. Your skin has begun to cool, your color drained as the paramedics begin working. His grip tightens over every bump in the road. 

5 minutes passed before he felt it, the softest grip your own hand returned to his. He is immediately on alert, leaning closer to your form as he watches your eyes open against the bright lights of the ambulance. 

You groan at their brightness, your voice hoarse as you try to call for Will, confusion laced within as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He hears the fear in your voice, immediately answering and bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m right here with you,” he whispers chokingly, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, relief dawning on your form at the sight of him. Will’s stomach pangs at the sight of tears welling up in your tired eyes, lip quivering as you look at him with intense fear. 

He feels your weight shift as you lean your head against his knee, his own adorned with a messy mop of curls coming down to rest on yours carefully. “Will,” you hushedly sob, his soft lips meeting your forehead in response. 

“I’ve got you, I promise” 

✧˖°

AAA THIS ANGST PIECE WAS SO DIFFERENT!! I hope you guys enjoyed <3

The gif I used is from a set made by the lovely @hughdancybabyface

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

[miniwheat77]

Because. (Ghost x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ghost being guarded, reader is injured, blood, violence, gore, (sorry if I missed any.)

This was a request, not edited just yet. Hope you like!

The day you met Ghost is when the flirting started. Anytime you were around him you were flirty and sometimes it drove him crazy. He always rolled his eyes and paid no mind to you. He was well guarded and wouldn’t crumble that easy. He always got teased by the other men on base by how much you liked him.

And than, you were put on a military base together and the flirting was nearly every day. In passing you always greeted him kindly. He always thought it was just pointless flirting.

He didn’t think you had any real feelings for him.

“So.. what’re you doing after this?” You smile. Ghost rolls his eyes, gun in hand. “Stay on task Sergeant.” Ghost mumbles, raising his gun. “Yes sir.” You say sarcastically. This mission has been rough. Your feet are tired and your back is sore. You haven’t slept in nearly 24 hours, you were tired and getting weaker. This was supposed to be a normal mission, in and out. But that wasn’t happening.

You and Ghost were holed up in a building to the east side of the compound you were trying to raid, they’d made threats with nuclear equipment and you needed to put a stop to it. Leave no one alive, clear out all potential threats. Dispose of the equipment properly.

Nobody knew what was waiting for you when you got here. There were hundreds of men and it’s taken hours to pick them off one by one. Everyone is tired and getting worried by the minute. “Almost there.” You hear your Captain call through the radio. You sigh. “This is rough.” You mumble. Ghost stays quiet. But you were used to it. You usually talked to yourself. You prop yourself up at the window, peeking out slightly. Your eyes are tired from being so focused for so long, but you don’t miss the long barrel of a rifle peeking out of a window, aimed right at Ghost.

It’s a split second and you’re shoving him to the side, the bullet colliding with your vest. Ghost hits the ground with a grunt and the force of the bullet penetrating your vest has you flying back, landing on your back with a cry. “Shit! Y/N?” He rushes over to you, pulling you away from the window, tugging at your vest to see if it’s hit you. He unzips it, pushing your shirt up. He can see a giant red mark and you’re struggling to breathe because it’s knocked the wind out of you, but you’re okay. Unharmed and okay. He sighs. Lowering his head. “Why would you do that?” He breathes. You take in a deep breath, a smile on your lips. “Because.” You mumble. “You’re supposed to protect those who you care about.” His eyes are wide as he stares at you. Shock written all over his face, luckily you can’t see it because of the mask. “You could’ve died. So easily Y/N.” He breathes. “So what?”

He stands up, turning his back to you. That easy? You would die for him that easily?

After that mission, Ghost had an entirely new perspective. Your flirty jokes and suggestive remarks were no longer pointless, but they had meaning behind them.

Ghost was passing by your room when you were emerging. “Thought those heavy footsteps sounded familiar.” You smirk. He shakes his head. “How’s your chest?” You smile. “If you wanted to look that bad you just had to ask.” You bite your lip, making him roll his eyes. “It’s pretty bruised up.” You lower your shirt so that he can get a good look at you, his eyes widening. “Jesus.. that looks horrible. Have you had it looked at?” He asks. “Yeah. They just said it was bruised and that it’d need time to heal.” You shrug. “Maybe you could kiss it better for me.” You smile.

He steps toward you, pushing you back by your hip, taking you off guard as he backs you up into your room. “Woah!” You breathe. He pulls his mask over his head, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Take your shirt off.” He mumbles. “Woah- Ghost I was just.. messing with you.” You laugh nervously. He reaches out, grasping your shirt and pulling it over your head, hearing you hiss. “No bra?” He laughs. “No..” you laugh nervously, “it’s really sore.” You breathe. He gets a good look at it, running his thumb over it. You have a huge bruise. “Poor thing.” He breathes. "Did they give you anything for it?" He asks. You shake your head. "Told me Ice for swelling and heat for circulation. Not much else they can do." You sigh. You feel exposed to him. Nerves setting in. "Hold on." He sighs. Leaving your room, making sure to close the door behind him. Not wanting anyone to see you. While he's gone, you pull your shirt back over your head.

When he returns, he laughs lightly. Seeing that you've covered yourself again. "Shirt. Off." He breathes. He closes the door behind him again and makes sure the door is locked. When he turns back around, you take it off again, slowly to make sure you don't hurt yourself. He smiles at how easily you obey him. He makes his way over to you with an ice pack. He sits down on the edge of your bed, setting it slowly onto your bruise. He sees you flinch. "Hurt?" He asks. "Yeah." You wince. He laughs. "Good. It's what you get for literally taking a bullet for me." He rolls his eyes. You laugh, eyes avoiding his. "I'd do it again." He shakes his head. "That's stupid. If it comes down to it, you always save yourself." He mumbles. "You would take my death easier than I'd take yours I think." You look down. Shy smile on your lips. "What?" He mumbles. You roll your eyes, hissing as you adjust the way you're sitting. "You think all of the flirting is for nothing?"

He freezes, drawing his eyes away from where they're on your bruise. He shakes his head. "You don't mean that." He mumbles. "You're not stupid Ghost. You know how I feel about you. It's more than a dumb crush. I mean for christ's sake, I took a bullet for you, and I would do it again. No questions asked." You laugh, almost as if you're shocked by your own actions. "I didn't even think about it really, didn't take a second. I saw the barrel of that rifle and my body just moved." You shrug. He sighs. "You're lucky. Anything higher than 7.62 by 39mm it won't stop." You shrug. "But it didn't. You though? If it had hit you, it would've killed you." He looks away from your gaze. "Don't do it again Sergeant." He breathes. You roll your eyes. "No sir."

He stands up. "Keep the ice pack. You need to get some sleep." He mumbles, rushing out of your room quickly.

He makes his way down the hallway, pushing his door open with a sigh.

Your actions and admissions had him so confused. He sits on his bed with a sigh, dread settling into his chest. Ghost was able to function like he did because he knew nobody cared about him. He could die for his team, he could die tomorrow and nobody would care.

Except for you apparently.

In your room, you sit on your bed. He didn’t react well to your admission and you don’t know why you said it anyways. You lay back on your bed, sighing. Why him? Of all people you could’ve fallen in love with, it was him. The most guarded person you’ve ever met. You hadn’t even seen his face until tonight, and he was just as handsome as you pictured. If not more.

—

The next morning, you were cleaning off a table in the mess hall.

“What happened to your arm?” Soap asks, he’s eating a sandwich and Ghost is behind him. You glance at Ghost, turning away. You turn toward him, tugging the shoulder of your shirt down to show that the bruise had spread even more. “Medic said the bones in my shoulder are bruised and told me I should wear a stupid fucking arm sling to keep it still.”

“Woah, language.” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, moving passed the both of them. “Wait, Y/N. I was just kidding. Do you need help?”

“Nah I’m good.” You mumble.

You disappear through the doors. “Wow. Can you believe she didn’t flirt with you? She must really be hurting.” Soap laughs. Sitting down at a table and continuing to eat his sandwich. “Must be.” Ghost mumbles. “That girl really took a bullet for you?” He asks. Ghost nods. “Damn. Must really like you. I can’t imagine what that would like if the bullet were bigger. Seriously would’ve blown a bowl sized hole in her chest. Kevlar or not.” Soap mumbles. The thought of you on the floor or of that building, bleeding out. It makes Ghost sick

You had no idea what kind of bullet you would be getting hit with when you shoved him to the side. “Yeah, thank god it wasn’t.”

“Cmon, I’ll make it for you.” Gaz mumbles. “You don’t have to make it for me. I’m not crippled.” You roll your eyes, following Gaz into the mess hall. He’s got an MRE in his hand. Soap smiles. “Just sit down and let me help you. You fucking grouch.” He laughs. You narrow your eyes at him, sitting down at the same table as Soap and Ghost. “You feeling okay?” Soap asks. “Yes.” You mumble, leaning on your arm that’s not hurt. “You just haven’t said anything about Ghost this morning so I thought that you must be really sick.” He laughs. “Oh, how cruel of me.” You sigh dramatically. “Still nothing?”

“Not sure if there’s anymore I can compliment. Not until he takes his shirt off anyways.” You narrow your eyes at Ghost, making him shift uncomfortably. A laugh leaves your lips as you look away from him. “What do you look like when you take off your shirt?” Johnny nudges you. “Don’t know, ask Ghost.” You shrug. Hearing him laugh.

Ghosts cheeks are on fire under his mask. They don’t know that what you just said is true, he does know what you look like without a shirt on. But they don’t know that. You breathe when Gaz sets the MRE he’s just made for you down in front of you. “Thank you Gaz.” You sigh. “No problem. Here.” He gives you a water. “You didn’t have to do that.” You sigh. “Y/N. It’s okay to need help sometimes.” He laughs. You roll your eyes. “I know that, but I’m fine.”

“If I touch your chest you’ll cry.”

“Correction, if you touch my chest, I’ll punch you AND then I’ll cry.” You laugh.

“Sensitive, not soft. Got you.” Gaz laughs. Taking a drink of his own water bottle. “We were just talking about how bad that would’ve been if you had gotten hit by anything with a bigger caliber.” Soap mumbles. “Yeah? Would’ve blown a fuckin hole in my chest.” You laugh. “I don’t know how you’re laughing at that.”

“I got shot on my vest, I didn’t die. I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s such a big deal.” You chuckle. Gaz shakes his head, looking between Simon and Soap. “It’s just different. I thought it would’ve scared you more.” He shrugs. You pause for a second. “Of course it scared me.” You shake your head looking up. “It did?”

You laugh. “Of course it did. It scared the hell out of me. I got hit so hard it knocked me on my ass. But it was my vest or Ghosts fucking head, you tell me what you would’ve done.” You mumble. They’re quiet, your admission taking them off guard. These moments of realism really hit hard. After that, it’s quiet for a while.

—

Ghost is really struggling.

Nobody is supposed to care about him. He’s not supposed to care about anyone.

The thought of you hurt, or dead. It kills him inside. The fact that you have actual feelings, care about him. So much to the point that you’d fucking die for him. He aches. Somewhere deep in his chest, Simon hurts. He knows what he needs to do, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He needs to allow himself to get close to you, so that he can keep you safe.

He’s sitting on a bench in the hallway, waiting for you to walk down the hallway to your room. Eventually, he can hear your footsteps coming. When you finally come into his view, he stands up. “Hey.” You smile. He nods his head. “Need to talk to you.” He mumbles. You bite your lip nervously. “Okay. Come inside.” You tilt your head, opening up your door. You close it behind you, crossing your arms nervously. “Look.. if this is about what I said this morning, I was just messing a-“ he pulls his mask off, his dirty blonde hair messy on his head from it. You swallow hard, turning your eyes away from him. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you doing that.” You laugh nervously.

“It’s not about that.” He breathes. “I don’t care about your flirting, kind’ve like it actually.” He shrugs. Seeing you smile. You sit down on the edge of your bed and he stands in front of you. “I need to hear you say it.” He breathes.

You bite your lip nervously. You know what he wants you to say. “Why?” You breathe. “Because. I just do.”

You bite your lip. “What do you want me to say?” You look up at him. He sighs. “You know what I want you to say. Say how you feel about me, say that… that-“ he sighs.

“That I love you?”

He goes stiff, those three words making his brain fuzzy.

“Is that what you wanted to hear, Simon? That I love you? That I’m in love with you?” You breathe. “Yes.” He breathes. “Why?” He asks.

“Because..” you mumble.

He says nothing.

“Because I think that there’s so much more to you than what meets the eyes. I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re seriously one of the handsomest men I’ve ever met in my life.” You laugh, looking down at your hands as you sit nervously. “You’re mysterious. And caring. When you want something, you do absolutely everything you can to get it. No matter what. You’re.. kind.. and loving. No matter how guarded you try to be, you just can’t because being good is who you are. You are good. And I admire the hell out of you for that Ghost.” You laugh. “I knew I was in love with you the day I met you, and nothing will change that. And I’m sorry.” You look up at him.

He moves toward you, sitting down next to you on your bed. He knows he should walk away. But he’s not going to. He’s in too deep.

He lifts his hand, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes from his touch, Simon always overstimulated you. He was too much. Every single nerve in your body lit on fire when he was around, and when ye was close like this it was always so much. You don’t expect his lips on yours, but you don’t waste a second to kiss him back. He cups your cheeks, tugging you into him slightly. The deeper you kiss him, the further he falls into the black hole you’ve created. He lowers his hands to your hips, pulling you into him as he lays back. You’re straddling his waist, keeping your lips against his.

It feels like a dream. You’re in another world as you rock your hips into him, feeling him groan into your mouth as you grind into him. You can feel him getting hard against you. You push his shirt up slightly, helping him pull it completely off. You return your lips to his, his hands gliding down your hips to rest on your ass, his thumb hooking over your waistband. You pull away from him, sitting up completely. You slide lower on him, reaching for the button on his jeans. He sits up onto his elbows, watching as you unbutton them, tugging on them so that his zipper will go lower. Revealing his black boxers. He reaches over you, grasping the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You raise your arms to help him out a bit. He admires you for a second.

He lifts his hips up, pushing you up and grasping your hips. He stands up with you and lays you onto your back. “There you go. You’ve seen me without my shirt.” He sits up, resting a knee between your legs as he reaches for your waistband. Your cheeks brighten sand you avoid his gaze. “What’re you blushing for hm? You had to have known your flirting would get you here at some point.” He smirks. You giggle, “I actually didn’t think it would.” You bite your lip. Hear him snort. He pulls your pants down your legs until they’re off completely. You close your legs lightly but he pushes them back apart, moving himself between them. He pushes his boxers down until he reveals his cock to you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to avoid audibly moaning out at the size of him. He’s huge.

He grasps your thighs, pulling you down. You can feel his tip nudging against your entrance, you’re nervous and he can tell by the way that you’re looking at him. “Nothing to be worried about. You’ve done this before right?” He asks. You nod your head. “Just not for a long time..” you blush. Looking down. He nods. He spits into his hand, running it up your entrance. Hearing you gasp. He presses the tip of his cock up into you, watching your tight gummy walls swallow him up, feeling you throb against him. There’s no going back anymore. You’re his.

When he bottoms out, your eyes widen and you clamp a hand over your mouth, hearing him chuckle. “Good girl.” He breathes. “Try n stay quiet for me. I know it’s a lot.” He breathes. He holds you tight, you clamp your eyes closed tightly as he starts to fuck himself into you. Your eyes roll back slightly, you clench them closed, biting down onto your hand to stay quiet. He’s being rough, but he’s not used to being gentle. He adjusts himself slightly, slowing his thrusts just a bit. Lowering himself down to kiss your bruise gently. You move your hand away from your mouth, looking back up at him once he pulls away. “I thought I could keep myself away from you.” He grits his teeth, pressing his hand against your lower stomach, feeling himself as he thrusts into you. “But you’re so persistent. Couldn’t keep my fucking hands off of you forever.” He hisses. You’re tight around him. He pushes your thighs up slightly, hearing another gasp come from your lips. His thrusts are deep and hard. He’s got a fast but steady pace. He’s pushing you close to your orgasm already and you feel pathetic. The swirling you feel in your stomach is overwhelming. You’ve never cum from just sex before. That was about to change.

You inhale sharply, looking up at him as he pushes you closer and closer to your high. “S-Simon!” You whine. “It’s alright.” He chuckles. “I know it’s a lot.” He repeats himself. “Give yourself to me. I want all of you.” He breathes. He lowers himself, wrapping his arms around you. Holding you tight as he hammers his hips into yours. His steady pace is what sends you spiraling, pressing himself right into your soft spongy walls just the way you like, he’s made for you. Fits you perfectly. The squelch from your pussy has him growling. “So wet for me..” he pants. He clamps a hand over your mouth when your eyes roll back. Reaching your high. Your walls tighten around him, gripping him so tightly. He’s panting hard, his breathes getting unsteady. You’re squirming beneath him and he knows you won’t be able to take much more. You can feel him twitch inside of you, your thighs shaking from it. “Simon.” You look up at him. “Look at me.” You breathe, pulling him into you. He holds onto you again. He takes on look at you, your eyes full of tears of pleasure as you look back at him, and he tips over the edge of pure bliss right there.

His eyes roll back when he cums, thrusts sloppy and fast as he rides out his high. “F-fuck. Bloody hell.” He gasps, resting himself into you slightly. He takes in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes. “For what?” You ask. “For being rough.”

“I don’t mind it.” You blush. Hearing him laugh. “Darling you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

“I hope that’s true.” You mumble.

—

The next morning, you’re sore as you get out of your bed. After everything had happened, you spent a lot of time talking with Ghost. You don’t remember falling asleep.

You get dressed, making your way out into the hallway, hissing slightly as you do. He’d really done a number on you. “Ah. Look who finally decided to join us.” Gaz laughs. “What?” You mumble. You look at the time, eyes widening. It’s almost 11am. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” You ask. “Ghost told us to let you sleep in. Said you had a long night.” He smirks. You roll your eyes.

“Sounds like he’s the one who had a long night.” You laugh, lifting the cup of coffee to your lips. They’re all looking at you with wide eyes. “He’s behind me isn’t he?”

They nod. You roll your eyes, turning around. Seeing him standing there with his arms cross. “Where’s your arm brace?”

“Haven’t put it on yet.” You shrug. “Y/N. Go put it on.” He rolls his eyes. “Alright alright.” You mumble, disappearing back down the hallway. “You wanna come help me put it on?” You wink at him, hearing everyone laugh in the mess hall.

“You’re something else.”

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU ; — your plug geto thinks you’re more addictive than anything he’s ever tried.

warnings: f!reader, plug!geto, weed use, shot gunning (i’ll never stop), honestly i still get so nervous writing him cause i’m not too happy w my characterisation but i rly wanted to write this idea, half proof-read & v messy! note: sorry but he lives in my mind rent free &lt;3

the knock on the door was telling to who it was before you answered, not that you were expecting anyone else at almost 1am, but you still think he seemed to get unfairly more attractive everytime you greeted him in your doorway.

your plug, geto suguru, was too attractive actually — half of his dark hair typed back but it still remains messy enough to frame his pretty features. he was dressed in nothing but sweats and an oversized hoodie, finished off with a just as oversized jacket that just fit him perfectly and you’re pretty sure he’s used to his.. clientele drooling over him at this point when the smile he offers you is a little teasing but still kind.

“hm, can i come in, pretty girl?” the pet name was like honey between his teeth, like it was easy as he takes a careful step into your apartment but his eyes are still on you when he turns to meet you, tilting his head as he lets his gaze trail along your skin.

“did you bring it?”

“mhm.”

but geto can’t deny that among all of his clients you’re his favourite — always so willing to smoke out his new stock with him because hes always oh so eager to hear your opinion, to feel it when your pussy is stretched around the weight of his cock because he knows that alone will tell him all he needs.

he always gives you an adoring look as he waits for your words, cool metal of his rings palming at your ass as he holds the joint out to you with the other — his own gaze is lidded and drowsy but it’s still on you when you lean into catch the end between your lips. your pouty lips kiss the pad of his fingers lightly and he spreads your cheeks before he offers you a deep, languid thrust that makes you twitch — almost choke as he watches you inhale with his lower lip between his teeth and a crooked grin.

“careful.” geto drawls deliberately as he lets his head tilt to the side again, followed by a breathless croon of a chuckle when you cast him a frown as he watches you inhale. but he thinks you’re like an angel when your blown out gaze meets his before you lean back, half-lidded as you hold the smoke between your lips and let him see the way your pretty tits bounce with the next intoxicating twist of your hips.

“feels like you like this one. fuck, y’re sensitive.” he grunts as he lets his free hand swipe tentatively over your clit — making your rocking body tremble with a mixture of want and need as you all but melt into him. your mind feels like it’s full of cotton and the way he makes your insides curl and ache everytime he sinks his cock into you is only heightened by the new strain.

another addictive bounce along the length of geto’s cock makes your head roll back until you’re exhaling, and he takes a long draw of the joint between his own smirking lips before his hand squeezes at your hips. “mhm~ ‘ts so good, sugu.” you answer eventually and he can’t help the way one side of his grin seems to stretch wider as he offers you a slow blink with his next smokey breath.

“shit, look so fuckin’ pretty when you say it like that.” his name he means because even despite the weed he can’t help the way you make him feel lightheaded, eager for more as he meets every eager roll of your hips with one of his own just so he can feel the way you squeeze harder around him the deeper he goes.

the smoke of geto’s exhale curls into the room and you let your head roll forward to watch it before you offer him a drowsy blink. you feel fuzzy — like your mouth is suddenly dry and your body feels heavy despite how easy you seem to be dragging yourself along his cock. the tingling along your limbs is only exaggerated by how perfectly the blunt head is gliding along your swollen spots and it makes you bear down on him eagerly as he helps you bounce on his lap.

“look at you.” he grits as he lets his large palm graze between the valley of your breasts before he takes a slow, languid handful to squeeze and you feel his praise drip through you before you giggle.

“‘ts just the weed.”

“nah, you’re jus’ beautiful.” geto’s reply is honest despite the way its slightly muffled by the blunt being placed back between his lips, letting the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he’s pulling you closer. you let your fingers graze underneath the oversized neckline of his hoodie as you sway forward, scratching along the ivory skin before he trembles and you offer him a pretty, starry-eyed look before you grin.

“awww, am i your favourite?” it’s meant playfully, but he’s so hypnotised by the way your eyelashes kiss your cheeks with your slow blink that he can’t help but draw you in before he answers. your fingers naturally twist in his dark hair as he kisses you and his gruff sigh is accompanied by the heat of his exhale when his previous draw floods your mouth, letting you inhale the smokey breath instinctively as your chest presses closer against his.

you’re much too enthralled by the dreamy tightness in your chest that only geto seems to give you that you can barely remember your question. but he lets you lose yourself in him as he grinds up into your warm pussy, his tongue gliding along your own until you feel like your melting from where he’s got you held tight in his lap before he pulls away to peck at your swollen lips.

“thought that much was obvious, pretty girl.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[mahg-stuff]

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍

Prompt: "Only God knows why"

Summary: Big Daddy just wants to try exploring new erotic themes with his sweet dolly but it involves a firearm, though she is wary she puts her faith in Elvis and God.

Pairing: bd!elvis x afab!reader

Word count: 13k

Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, excessive smut, 18+!, gun play, sorta naive reader, manipulative tactics!?, mentions of religion, age gap (isn’t directly stated), certain themes can be disturbing/dark, lots of manhandling, quick mention of Elvis’ health, implied butt stuff f!receiving (only briefly brought to the attention), first time giving oral m!receiving, use of the word daddy, pet names, Elvis at one point calls himself papa bear, might’ve missed a few...

AN: ITS HERE MY LOVELY'S! I know i made y’all wait so so long for this & I just wanna say sorry. Life just decided to get in the way again and took a toll on me but I'm finally back & ready to give you guys this story you so deserve!

Like I mentioned in my previous post this is my literal first attempt of writing something like this and about Elvis, as well as writing about religion. Hope you all enjoy it! I’m no expert so please go easy on me. hehehe (Though I will admit I had this story idea marinating for a quite awhile, let's just say Big Daddy is a handful.)

 

 After wrapping up your usual prayer of gratitude to God for another day of life, something you had started doing since getting with Elvis. You noticed the time on the clock and realized that night was drawing near. Feeling a sense of peace and delight, you closed your eyes, ready to embrace the night and all the possibilities it may bring. You felt grateful for the moment and decided to cherish it. As you opened your eyes, you promised yourself to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it. 

 Getting up from your vanity's desk, striding to the bathroom with some pep in each step, and starting to wind down for the night by getting ready for a relaxing bath. You entered the bath and soaked in the warm water, letting your mind drift as you reflected on the events of the day. You remembered what Elvis mentioned earlier today, that he'd be getting his hands on a new toy for the two of you. You weren't sure what this toy could be at all, but you were excited to find out. You trusted him to surprise you with something delightful, even if it meant not fully understanding it at first. However, as you soaked in the warm water, trying to relax, you just couldn't help but wonder if this new toy would be something intimate and sensual, considering Elvis' comment about it being an "adult" toy. Regardless of your slight inexperience in this area, you felt safe knowing that Elvis would be there with you. 

 Finally feeling freshened up, you hop out of the bath, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel before heading to the closet. Looking through it, you spotted your new pink babydoll nightie. You couldn't help but beam at yourself, your thoughts going straight to him. Taking it off the hook, you slipped it right on after putting on some simple underwear. You skipped  towards the mirror, admiring how the pink satin fabric draped over your curves and how the lace details accentuated your feminine features. You couldn't wait for him to see you in it, knowing he'd be pleased. He always told you how pretty you were in pink and how it brought out the rosy glow in your cheeks. You turned your back to the mirror, looking back at yourself over your shoulder with a playful grin, then blowing a kiss to yourself, feeling like a ditz just at the mere thought of his approval. Catching the time on the clock through the mirror, you gasped, realizing Elvis would probably be on his way right now. You rushed back to the bathroom and applied some light makeup and a little bit of eyeliner, just the way Elvis liked it. Before letting your hair down and brushing it out, your natural loose curls flowing against the midsection of your back. Finishing up and giving yourself one last glance in the bathroom mirror, your hand naturally reaches to touch the cross on your necklace, a comforting habit you've developed over the past months of being with him.

You take a deep breath, and as you are about to walk out of the bathroom, you can hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. You feel a flutter of excitement in your chest as you know it's him. You were probably so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear his arrival. Composing yourself, you slowly walk out into the bedroom, and there he is, standing with his side to you. 

 He turns to you, revealing a better view of his tall and broad frame, slightly pudgy but taut at the same time. As you approach him, you observe just how tall he is, towering over you. His big shoulders stretch out the fabric of his shirt, and his pudgy belly that protrudes just barely over his belt. You can't help but feel small in his presence. Shyly meeting his gaze, you notice a twinkle in his eyes through his glasses, and you can't help but wonder why he held both of his hands behind him. His deep, honey-colored voice echoed off the walls.

 You felt a sense of security wash over you as you listened to him speak. "There's ma sweet baby 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍." 

 You practically pounced on him, embracing him in your arms, they hardly reached to hold him all. You nuzzled your face against his hairy chest that was revealed by his open button up, breathing in his distinctive aroma of musk with hints of cigar and his cologne, feeling safe in his embrace. As he held you tightly, you felt like a kitten being cradled in his large and heavy arms. As you pulled away, you gazed into his eyes but everted them due to his intense stare.

 "I missed you." you mumbled as you coyly ran your little digits through his chest hair. 

He then held your lower back tightly with one of his broad hands and kissed your forehead. 

"I missed ya too, ma sweet angel," he replied in his thick, southern drawl. 

As he spoke, you could feel the vibrations of his bass voice reverberating through your body, making you shiver. You knew that no matter what happened, his embrace would always be your safe haven. He looked at you with such intensity that it was practically begging you to look away. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were trying to communicate something without saying a word. It was both exhilarating and unnerving, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Eventually, you broke the silence. 

"What ya thinking about, bub?" you voiced as you poked at him in a girlish manner.

He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, breaking his intense gaze. You felt relieved but also a little disappointed that you didn't get to uncover the mystery behind those blue eyes. You spotted him looking at you up and down behind his spectacles, and you were overcome with a rush of shyness. You were conscious of how little clothing you were wearing in comparison to him—you were just wearing a pair of underwear underneath your babydoll and were barefoot—as opposed to how fully dressed he was. He kept staring at you, and you could feel your heart pounding and your cheeks flushing. While you were already his, it took some getting used to the impact he had on you. Sometimes he left you almost woozy with the way he handled you. You made an effort to keep his stare in your direction, but soon you had to turn away since the intensity of his gaze became too much to bear. He made a muttering noise and stretched out to firmly grasp your chin to make you look up at him. The coolness of his rings and roughness of his large hand on your warm skin was a dangerous sensation you enjoyed but knew you'd never admit it to him. As he held your gaze, you couldn't help but feel excitement. You wondered what he was thinking as his thumb lightly brushed against your lips, making you shiver with anticipation.

 "Yur jus tha prettiest lil’ thing, ya know that sweetness?" in a low tone. 

You nodded to him with your doe-eyes, trying your hardest not to break eye contact. While holding his gaze on yours, gauging for your reaction, he let go of your face and slowly lifted your nightie to reveal your undies he stroked his fingers over the waistline, letting his icy rings brush across your belly, giving you goosebumps. His face lit up when he saw your choice of underwear, a simple pair of white cotton undies. You couldn't help but be embarrassed by his attention, but you also wondered what else he was thinking as he looked at you. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but you couldn't deny the little thrill you felt of being so intimately inspected. You felt exposed but also desired, and knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel that way made him even more irresistible.

 Letting your nightie drape over you once again, he held out one of his hands. You took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his big palm against yours. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck and trailing kisses down to your collarbone that left tingling sensations behind. You closed your eyes, trying your best to hold back any noise that urged to escape. 

"C’mon, tiny, give yer ol' man ah lil’ spin," he encouraged whispering into your ear as he leaned back. 

 You agreed compliantly and did a twirl for him, your nightie flowing up a  bit and revealing your clad butt to him, which he whistled at with praise. As you spun around, you couldn't help but feel a rush of giddiness. 

He liked seeing you this way, it was like you were his own little doll. 

 You liked the sense of being entirely in his hands and enjoyed playing, exploring, and being pleased with him. As he continued to admire you, you felt your body responding to his touch, with that fuzzy feeling in your belly and your panties growing slightly damp. You were immediately distracted when you noticed that he still held something behind his back. You wanted him so desperately. The same ache could be seen in his eyes, but you quickly fought the tension that was beginning to grow between your gazes, leaving only want in its wake.  

 "So, w-what exactly is this new toy you were getting t-today..?" You stuttered out as you wriggled towards the arm behind his back in a kittenish manner, but he was faster than you and withdrew away before you could get a good look. 

"Now, darlin’, you go ahead and sit yer lovely self on that bed there and keep those pretty eyes closed f’me, hmm.." was the command he gave in that thick drawl you adored. 

With a sneer look on his face, he gestured to the side of the bed, and you realized there was no use in disagreeing with him. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, wondering what he had in store for you.

 "Alright, babydoll, now hold out them gorgeous things," he said once you were comfortable on the bed with your eyes shut. 

His voice made you shudder, and you extended out your small hands, palms up, as he asked. You could feel something heavy, metallic, and cold being put inside of them, and you couldn't help but want to have a look. You opened your eyes and gasped when you saw a black pistol gleaming in your hands. You were aware that Elvis owned a variety of guns, but since they were lethal weapons, he never brought them near you. You gave him a confused look as you glanced up at him with wide eyes. 

 "Goddamnit, honey, did I tell ya ta open your eyes?'' He voiced it sternly. 

 You quickly shut your eyes again, unable to utter a word. 

 As you sat there in your and Elvis' shared bed with a gun in your hand, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. You had never held a firearm before, let alone a lethal one. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the weight of the gun pulling down on your dainty arms. You knew you had to trust Elvis, even though you were unsure of his intentions. You tried to calm your thoughts, but the fear of the unknown was getting overwhelming.

 Suddenly, Elvis broke the silence, seeing the way your hands were starting to slightly shake, and said, "Darlin', now go ahead an open 'em pretty doll eyes f'me." 

You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling the rush of adrenaline, and looked up at Elvis. He saw the rushing thoughts in your eyes, making him feel a twinge of guilt but also amusement. He took a few steps back, and it looked like he was admiring the view. 

"Would'ya look ah that, mah two stunnin' girls look great together." He gasped as he stared in awe. 

The way he referred to you and the gun as his girls sent a shiver down your spine, a strange mix of fear and excitement. You never expected to find yourself in this situation, holding a gun in your trembling hands. But deep down, your assurance in God gave you a glimmer of hope that everything would turn out okay. As Elvis looked at you and the gun, you couldn't help but feel a rush of confused emotions. Elvis was looking at your expression, and he couldn't help but be entertained by your confused state, but then he saw as your expression went from confusion to overwhelm. Your rookie self was sitting there with that cold weapon in your trembling hands, looking at Elvis with knitted eyebrows and a pout. He sensed your emotions were becoming too much for you and quickly moved to ease your distress. With a gentle smile, he reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hands, placing it safely out of reach on the bed.

 "I ain't mean ta startle ya, tiny. I ain't gon hurt cha." He said it softly, soothing your nerves slightly. 

You nodded hesitantly, still unsure of what was happening.

 "Good," he ushered as he stroked down on your hair, putting a strand behind your ear. 

You took a deep breath and tried to process what was happening. So this was the 'new toy' he went to get today—a gun. Elvis was known for his extravagant gifts and gestures, but this was different. He had presented you with a gun, and although he said it was out of reach now, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You continued to observe him, searching for answers, but he simply leaned in closer. 

"I trust ya, baby," he said, his voice low and smooth. 

"And I need ya to trust me too." You couldn't deny the allure of his charm, but the fear in your gut was still present. You had no idea what he was implying here. 

"El-" you tried to speak before Elvis interrupted you. 

"Now before you say anythin' darlin', lemme explain. Last night, ..." he paused, "it's just I had a thought, and, w-well, maybe I was wonderin' if you'd like ta bring that beaut into the bedroom, hmm? What d'ya say?" 

 You were taken aback by Elvis’ request and unsure of how to respond. Your gut was telling you to be wary, but you also didn't want to offend or disappoint him. Elvis was now taking off his slightly tinted glasses and placing them on the bedside table. Your eyes connected once again with his sense of urgency.

 "I understand if ya ain’t comfortable with it," he said softly, his words rolling off his tongue like sweet velvet, "but I jus thought it'd be fun ta try s-somethin' different, somethin' new, together." 

You weren't sure why, perhaps it was the brief tingling sensation that still lingered after your body responded to his touch from the events that occurred not so long ago, but there was something about his request that gave you a rouse deep down. Pushing that feeling away almost quickly and coming back to your senses and reality, you wondered how a gun would do any good in a setting of intimacy, which led your thoughts to race once again. Handguns are made for killing, they are no better for anything else, as you thought. 

 Building up the courage to speak, you expressed, "E-Elvis, I don't really understand, why, why you'd want to involve an item like that i-in our intimate space." 

Elvis looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out sternly, "Only God knows why, hon', everythin' appears for ah reason, an that is why this idea was sent to me." 

You paused for a moment before timidly looking up at the cross that hung on the wall of the bedroom.

 "Sweetheart, look, you may not comprehend it right now. That may not appear ta be fair. But God knows what he's doin'." Elvis interrupted your thoughts. 

He took your smaller hands in his big ones and gently squeezed them, speaking, "Trust in the Lord with all yur heart, and do not lean on your own understandin', in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight ya paths."

He had just uttered the following words from Proverbs 3:5-6 as he stared into your eyes. It was clear that Elvis was trying to soothe you and help you find peace in your current situation. Giving the cross another glance brought you back to what you had promised yourself at the beginning of the night after prayer, 'to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it'. You pondered for a while and thought that certainly this was truly God's notion, and he was leading you to embrace this unexpected and confusing situation as an opportunity for growth and a test of your faith. He was telling you to fulfill that promise right now. 

 As you looked back at Elvis, you felt a sense of calmness and knew that with him by your side and your faith in God, you could handle whatever came your way. Elvis gave you an encouraging look after observing your train of thought. You took a deep breath and decided to let go of any doubts or worries and instead fulfill Elvis' request by taking a leap of faith. While you knew Elvis wouldn't harm you, you were still a little wary about what role that particular object might play in the night's events. Eyeing the firearm where it now lay on the bed. You felt Elvis' large hand come into contact and rest on your bare shoulder, and your head shot back to his face as he gave you a reassuring smile.

 "Don worry, doll," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and affection.

 "I promise it'll all jus’ be like ah playful lil' game." 

With a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness, you sluggishly nodded to him, “Okay-y then.”

He then went to remove his heavy blazer, slipping it off and tossing it somewhere on the bed. You flitched a little at the sudden movement but couldn't tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze. The uncertainty in your eyes was replaced by a flicker of fever as he approached, his confident steps inching closer to you.  As he stood in front of you, he bent down to meet your gaze as you sat still on the bed. His broad shoulders and tall stature seemed to loom over you, emphasizing how bitty you were in comparison. With a coy smile appearing on your lips, you began to play with a lock of your hair, feeling oh so fragile in his presence. He clutched the back of your head and pulled you in close for a passionate kiss. In your overwhelmed state, your hands fumbled clumsily, unsure of where to go. He pulled back, staring into your eyes, and with a rough motion, reached for your arm, pulling you to stand up from the bed. 

You couldn't help but yelp a tiny, "ouch." 

His grip still firmly on your arm, he went and sat himself down on the bed. He pulled you into him right away and made you lay on your tummy beside him, he handled you like a ragdoll and pulled you over so your lower body was draped across his lap. Your uncertainty and exhilaration were both palpable as you lay there, consumed by a mix of confusion and excitement. His actions left your mind spinning, unsure of how to react or what he expected from you.  You felt his big belt buckle rubbing against your bare thigh, as well as feeling his slightly protruding belly pressing against your upper thigh. In a way, it brought you sensations you didn't understand but liked. You felt his large hand rubbing up and down against your back thigh, going higher and reaching under your nightie to your clad bum as he firmly squeezed it. Feeling your face flush at this, though it wasn't new to you, you still felt shy at his actions. He scrunched the bottom of your nightie, pulling it up and revealing your undies to him. 

"My, my, you are jus ah sight for sore eyes, honey." You blushed even deeper as his words sent a shiver down your spine. 

His touch, combined with his compliment, made you feel excitement. You couldn't help but squirm slightly under his firm grip. As his fingers traced the edges of your underwear, teasingly exploring the delicate fabric. Suddenly, you felt the coldness of something gliding up your calf. You glanced over your shoulder to see him holding the gun. Your heart raced as a million thoughts ran through your mind. Was he really about to use the gun in such a way? You gulped nervously, unsure of what to expect next. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he brought the gun more upward across your leg, grazing the tip softly over your delicate skin. You slightly moved to lift your upper body, feeling overwhelmed by this new situation.

 Softly you stammered, "Wait... E-Elvis...". His eyes softened as he looked at your frazzled state. 

“I want no harm done ta ma baby doll, hmm, it's only ah little fun," he rasped out. 

"Y'know I'll always take care of ya.” he caresses you with one hand while the pistol rests in the other along your thigh. 

 You start to feel more at ease as he reassures you, and gives you an encouraging look. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts. As you glance down at the pistol resting on your thigh, you look back at him and give him a timid but sweet grin. While keeping an eye on the pistol, your gaze shifts to the cross on the wall in front of you, providing a comforting sense that everything will be alright. He steadily starts to bring the gun more upward, grazing it on your back thighs and in-between them, slowly inching higher until it reaches over your clothed backside. 

 Despite the unsettling nature of the situation, your mind becomes foggy and your senses dulled. That fuzzy sensation rises as he traces the contours of your back thighs and rear end with the cool touch of the gun, heightening a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He brought his other hand to your hair, grabbing it, making you turn to look at him, and the way he ran the gun across your body left a trail of goosebumps along your precious skin.  

 In that moment, time seems to stand still as you stare into his eyes, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling within you. You watch as he inches the gun towards your undies, dragging it slowly along the fabric, teasingly close to the sensitive skin underneath. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest, as you wonder what he has planned next. Every nerve ending in your body is on edge, ready to experience the unknown.

 As the gun hovers just above the edge of your undies, you can't help but let out a shaky breath, a silent plea for reassurances. He eyes you as he starts sliding the pistol in between you and the fabric, his gaze filled with both mischief and desire. The cool metal of the gun grazes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand lets go of your hair and brings it to caress the cheek of your face, lightly squeezing it. With one hand gripping the gun and the other now firmly holding your face, he leans back slightly, to admire you. The contrast between his strong, supple thighs and your petite frame as you lay across his lap sends a jolt of anticipation through his body. As you rest against him, you can't help but feel both breathless and eager for what lies ahead. He chuckles softly, enjoying your muzzy state and the way your lips are slightly parted. 

"Mah sweet yittle baby is doin' so good f'me." You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal. 

His deep, even-keeled voice sends shivers down your spine as you obediently keep still, not daring to make a sound. The weight of his hand on your face is both comforting and controlling—a reminder of how much you love pleasing him and giving your all to him. As he continues to stroke your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, you can't help but surrender further to his control. The intensity of his gaze holds you captive, his eyes piercing into your soul, leaving you feeling displayed and vulnerable. Every word he speaks feels like a command, and you are eager to comply, to show him just how much faith you have in him. He lets go of your face and directs his attention back to your clad bottom, the gun still grazing under the fabric on your buttocks as he inched closer to your dulcet parts. 

 But then he stops and reaches with his other hand, coming into contact with the waistband, and swiftly pulls them down to your mid thighs, revealing your bare ass, and slowly but firmly starts grazing the gun over it. Every nerve ending in your body is on high alert, acutely aware of your every movement. 

 Each stroke is calculated, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake. As the gun traces its path along your rear, you can't help but feel a strange mix of pleasure and danger—an intoxicating concoction that leaves you craving for more. You feel a tad bit jittery but stiffen as you feel him bring the pistol along your tailbone and drag lower along the middle of your buttocks, going lower until he reaches that sensitive area between your thighs. Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of your quickened breaths. 

 He notices your state and coos again, questioning softly this time, "Tiny's doin' such ah good job fer me, ain't she?" 

Your cheeks flush deeper with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as you nervously nod to him over your shoulder, yearning for his approval. 

As he continues to explore the sensitive area between your thighs, you can't help but feel a ripple of pleasure and shock shoot through your body when he presses the cold metal against your heat.

 "Oh—mmph," you gasp lowly, your words muffled by the intensity of the moment. 

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before—a tantalizing mix of pleasure and the forbidden. As he continues to tease you with the cold metal, your mind becomes consumed with a dizzying array of thoughts. You find yourself surrendering to the intoxicating pull, losing yourself in the overwhelming sensations that ripple through your body. 

Elvis sees this and smirks, his grip on the gun tightens, rubbing it against your sensitive core, as he slowly speaks, "You enjoyin' that doll? See, I knows what's best for ya." 

You're too overwhelmed to respond, the mixture of fear and arousal fueling a confusing rollercoaster of emotions within you. He takes a peek and sees how your flesh is pressed against the pistol, he lets out a low chuckle, seeing the slickness of your arousal starting to glisten along the gun. 

"Oh, y’dirty lil' girl." he murmurs out in his smooth voice. 

The physical sensations and his words, combined with the undeniable evidence of his growing desire against your thigh, heighten your anticipation, leaving you flushed. Your face probably looks like a tomato by now, but all you can do is bite down on your lip from the new sensations you're feeling. Elvis decides to push the boundaries as he brings the pistol back up along the middle of your ass, leaving your throbbing core, but this time he goes in-between your cheeks, catching a view of your small hole. You shift in his lap as you feel the cool air hit it, and your breath hitches in response. The charged atmosphere is heavy as Elvis slowly traces the outline of your anus with the muzzle of the pistol, teasingly applying gentle pressure. Your mind races with panic at the unfamiliar commotion, and you try to slowly crawl further toward the bed and away from his lap. He had never been so close to that area, and the intrusion by gun both jarred and frightened you, you felt it was getting too much for your little self. 

 "Wha-, no-o, not there!" you shrieked out in a high pitched voice, hoping he would attend to your plea. Elvis smirked, his hold on you loosening. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered huskily, his voice appearing playful.

 "Is this too much fer mah yittle baby," he said, as he withdrew the gun from your prohibited area. 

You relaxed, still feeling the tingling in your belly but also having scattered emotions. He went and placed his heavy hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your bottom before giving it a light slap.

 "Y’were so darn good, f'me doll." He cooed out as he gripped your arm roughly, lifting you up from your lying position along his lap. 

You stumbled slightly as he pulled you up, your body still feeling weak from the intensity of the moment. As he guided you to your feet, his grip on your arm tightening, you couldn't help but feel a mix of conflicting emotions, excitement, and danger. You balanced yourself, feeling your nightie drape back down, but then heard the slight noise of your undies hitting the carpet under you near your feet, causing a sudden rush of embarrassment to flood over you. You glanced down, and so did he, both of you eyeing the wet stain you had left on them from the actions that had just taken place. Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you quickly looked away, playing with your fingers. 

 He couldn't help but smirk at the sight of your damp undies. Elvis stood up from the bed and towered in front of you, his presence commanding the room. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as he leaned closer, bringing his larger hand to gently pet your head. He then gripped your head towards him, his voice low and filled with a mix of desire and control. 

 "Did ya enjoy that, Tiny?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. Your heart raced as you met his intense gaze, unable to speak. 

You nodded silently, feeling a wave of anticipation and curiosity wash over you. 

His smirk broadened as he noticed your reaction—a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Slowly, he released his grip on your head and leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. Then he took your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. As his enormous hands wandered down your body, the intensity of the moment grew, causing your body to respond eagerly. Your brain goes fuzzy once more, as your nipples harden under your silk pink nightie. As his hands trailed down your smaller frame, his touch felt intense and electrifying. His lips left yours and began to trail a path of kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and to the hollow of your throat. 

Your breath quickened, mingling with his as he pressed his body closer to yours, the feeling of his pudgy belly and big buckle adding a comforting weight against you. His desire was evident in the way his large hands gripped your teeny waist. His bulge grazed against your upper abdomen, and a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins, heightening the electricity between you. You felt yourself growing hotter, the slick between your thighs was starting to ooze out even more, causing your legs to clamp together involuntarily.  Elvis caught this, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. He leaned in closer, and brought his hand to squeeze your breast over the silk fabric. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you gasp softly. His fingertips danced over the hardened bud, teasing and caressing, as his other hand trailed down your back, giving your ass a light but firm squeeze. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, as the heat between you became almost unbearable. You could feel his desire pulsating against you, almost matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat. He then dragged his hand down your body until it met the hem of your nightie, his touch tracing the delicate fabric.  

The impatience built within you, as you yearned for him to explore further. His massive hand continued its journey, inching lower and lower, until it reached under and to the center of your innermost desires. With a tender yet possessive grip, he cupped your exposed, sopping core, sending a buzz of electricity through your entire being. He starts softly caressing your sensitivity, carefully switching between light strokes and firmer pressure. 

 "God, darlin', yur drippin' like honey down there," he whispered huskily in your ear. 

The weight of his hand, combined with the coolness of his rings, made it impossible to control the rising tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you. As he continued his intimate touch, you could feel the heat building within you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body, making your toes curl and your back arch. Elvis eyed your expression, your scrunched eyebrows, shut eyes, the slight agape of your small mouth, revealing just how lost in the moment you were. He smiled mischievously and pulled his hand away from your heat, leaving you feeling a sudden void that sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze filled with amusement. The air around you crackled with anticipation as he leaned in closer, his warm breath grazing your earlobe. 

"How ‘bout we take this lil' nightie off ya, doll?" Your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nervousness as his words sent a rush of tingles down your body. 

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to take control, trusting him entirely. 

He gestured for you to lift your arms up, and he carefully slipped the delicate fabric over your head, revealing the curves and daintiness of your body beneath. His gaze seemed to appreciate every detail, from the suppleness of your breasts to the gentle curve of your hips. As the nightie hit the ground, you stood facing him, captivating him with your shy yet alluring presence. He brought his hands to your boobs, kneading them, causing a surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. 

He admired them in his large hands, "You jus got tha prettiest, perkiest pair ah titties I've ever laid eyes on," he whispered in his drawl. 

You blushed deeply, even though he'd always say the same thing every time he saw them. 

 He leaned down into your breasts and placed gentle kisses along the curve of each one, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled further down, exploring the softness of your stomach and the curves of your waist. You arched your back, allowing him to trail his kisses down your abdomen, leaving a trail of heat on your soft skin. He started lowering himself until he almost got to your heat. 

He looked back up at you as he spoke out, "M'gon take ah look at cha doll parts, ok? darlin'." His voice was filled with a mix of lust and tenderness.

 With a mumbled "A-Alright", you watched as he positioned himself lower between your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, before you interrupted.

 "W-Wait, I don't want you t'get h-hurt on your knees." Elvis having health issues, you couldn't help but worry and didn't want him putting strain on his knees due to his age. 

"Don't cha worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Daddy's takin' good care ah himself." He reassured you with a gentle smile, his hands caressing one of your thighs. 

The concern in your eyes lingered, but his words provided some comfort. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to your throbbing heat, and a mischievous smirk played on his lips. 

"But right now, I think there's sumn else that needs mah attention," he whispered huskily, "M'doll is lookin' so pretty an pink down here." 

You felt a rush of heat spread throughout your body as his words sank in. 

His touch on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn't help but feel torn between his desire and your worry for his well-being. However, as his hand moved closer to your throbbing heat, you found yourself giving into his touch, unable to resist the temptation that lay before you. He grazed his fingers against your hot flesh, feeling you shudder under his touch. 

As he leaned his face closer to your heat, he mumbled, "So perfect, jus f'me." 

He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a slow, tantalizing lick that made your body arch in pleasure. The intensity of the moment washed away any remaining doubts as you surrendered yourself completely to the passion and desire coursing through your veins. A symphony of soft moans filled the air as he continued to explore every inch of your moistness with his skilled tongue. He reached over and forcibly pulled one of your legs over his shoulder while the other remained balancing your posture and allowing him better access to your throbbing core. His hands firmly gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delved deeper, swirling and flicking with expert precision. He pressed his face closer into your heat, feeling his nose graze your bud, sending electrifying tingles of pleasure throughout your body. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing your toes to curl up and your breath to hitch in your throat. Every sensation seemed to be intensified, with every touch and movement driving you closer to the edge of bliss. Your itty-bitty fingers found their way into his hair, pulling gently as you gave in to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing. 

 As he continued to devour you with his mouth, his hands roamed your trembling thighs, gripping them firmly as he held you in place. With each flick of his tongue and every gentle nip, the tension within you built, threatening to push you over the edge. You could feel your body arching towards him, desperate for release. The world around you faded into a hazy blur, leaving only its raw intensity.

 "Elvis-s...feels s-so good," you managed to gasp, your weak voice barely a whisper. 

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and need. His movements became more fervent, his lips and tongue working in perfect sync to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the slight familiar heat pooling between your thighs, your senses heightened as you yielded completely to the pleasure he was giving you. The sounds of your tiny gasps and the lapping of his tongue filled the room, creating a trance of pleasure that echoed in your ears, only pushing you more over the edge. Your body trembled with need, yearning for release, as the intensity of his mouth consumed you. Every nerve-ending tingled with pleasure, the sensation was electric and intoxicating. 

 With each passing second, the climax grew within you, the waves of pleasure crashing against your core. Your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately clinging to him as you rode the wave of ecstasy. His hands, strong and sure, held you steady, supporting your weight as you surrendered to the dizzying pleasure coursing through your body. Lost in the moment, you gasped for air, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. His mouth continued its assault on your dripping cunt, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing your swollen clit. Every touch sent electric shocks of pleasure through your overstimulated body, making it hard to think or speak. You tried to push his head away, tell him you needed a break, that you were reaching your limits, but he was stubborn as he continued licking up your release and savoring every drop. The intensity of his actions had you teetering between ecstasy and displeasure, your mind going numb. 

 As you struggled to regain control of your senses, you found yourself yanking his hair and grasping at his shoulder, trying to bring him back up to your embrace, but he wouldn't budge. The conflicting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. 

 Finding your voice, "Too much-h..t'much, daddy-y." 

You gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleasure and a hint of discomfort. His actions had pushed you to the edge, and you needed him to ease off, even if just for a moment. As you tugged at his thick hair, you could feel his lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin. His grip tightened around your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to ravish you with his mouth. The intensity of his action nearly blurred your vision, and he pulled away to give you a look. You felt relieved but were still in a gasping and quivering mess as he held your hips to calm you and keep you steady. 

"M'sorry doll, seems like papa bear jus can't get ‘nough uh yer sweet honey," he murmured, his voice filled with appetite. You give a timid smile as you try to regain thoughts.

 With a strength you had never seen before, he rose from his knees, towering over you. His eyes glimmered with a mixture of hunger and adoration as he stared down at you, you couldn't help but rest your body against his from slight exhaustion. In that moment, he saw you as his cherished doll, a testament to his faith in him and the divine guidance bestowed upon both of you.  As he stood before you, you noticed a subtle shift in his posture, he adjusted himself, making his bulge more prominent. You couldn't help but feel a surge of desire as his confidence and craving for you became increasingly evident. And as your fingers grazed across his hairy chest, finally breathing steadily again, he couldn't contain his passion any longer. 

He took hold of your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him and gently guiding you towards the bed. Lying your naked, slender body down, grabbing the small cross that hung around your neck, he paused for a moment, his eyes fixated on the symbol. The contrast of the saintly necklace against the sinful scenario heightened the vague nature of it all. With a passion fed by the shared devotion, he kissed the cross, then left kisses against your collarbone and chest, moving lower, leaving a trail of holy desire across your skin. The sight in front of you made you purr with anticipation, every nerve in your body aflame with a mix of excitement and a tinge of fright. And in that intimate moment, the boundaries between sacred and profane melted into an ecstasy that intoxicated both body and soul. As he trailed more kisses towards your belly, he looked at you, eyeing him, he got up from the bed, and you sat up slightly to see as he tugged at his tucked shirt from his waistline and started unbuttoning it. 

  Your heart races with suspense, desire igniting within you as you watch him undress. The sight of his pudgy yet strong physique only intensifies your desire for him, appreciating every special detail. In this moment, he is perfect to you, captivating you with his raw masculinity and genuine desire. As he finally removes his shirt, your eyes drink in every detail, savoring the sight of his wiry chest and abdomen hair. The beads of sweat already glistening on his skin only add to his allure, making him appear even more irresistible. He watches as you're in awe of his beauty, a smug smile appearing on his face. He knows the effect he has on you, and revels in the power it gives him. Slowly, he walks towards you, his steps deliberate and confident. You can feel your heart race, and your breath quickens. 

"Y'wanna try helpin’ me wit these, lil' girl?" His words flowed smoothly from his lips with that mesmerizing southern accent, the drawl adding a touch of charm to his request to help him with his pants. 

You sit up more and inch closer, your legs dangling from the bed as you try to gather the courage to respond. 

"P-Please, I'd like... to," you stammer at him sweetly in that soft voice he adores , your cheeks flushing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. 

 As you reach out to assist him, your fingertips graze over the firm bulge in his pants, making you momentarily lose focus. You quickly retract your hand, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through your body. He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your reaction. Your cheeks grow even hotter as you meet his gaze. He stares into your doe-eyes, his smile never faltering. 

"No need ta be afraid, hon’. Y'seen him before," he says, his voice filled with a hint of mischief.

 You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, knowing it would be the first time seeing it so up close. 

With a nervous laugh, you reply, "Yes, b-but... not like this." 

He can't help but chuckle louder, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. 

"Well, darlin', consider it an introduction then," he teases, his touch sending shivers down your spine. 

 Despite your flustered state, you manage to regain composure and slowly begin undoing his big belt buckle, the trembling in your hands being noticeable. As you struggle with the clasp, you can't help but notice the stark difference in the size between his buckle and your hands. His deep chuckle vibrates through you, a sound of amusement. With determined focus, you finally manage to loosen the belt, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. And reach over to his zipper, your voice small and shaky. 

"C-Can I...can I undo this too?" you ask, biting your lip nervously.

His eyes lock with yours, a mixture of adoration and desire shining through. 

"Uh course, my yittle baby can do anythin' she wants," he whispers huskily, his hands caressing your flushed cheeks. 

 You start bringing his zipper down, and as you do this, Elvis' heavy hand goes and gives your supple breast a light squeeze, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The touch is both gentle and possessive, sending a surge of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat between your legs rise as you continue to undo his zipper, revealing his hard on as it springs out, you can't help but let out a tiny gasp as it captures you with his size and girth up close. Despite not wearing any underwear, his arousal is evident on his glossy red tip as a bead of precum glistens at the slit. Your curiosity grows as you bring your shaky hand to give him a teasing stroke from base to tip, feeling the throbbing pulse of his large member in your hand. The combination of his commanding presence and your newfound control ignites a fiery desire within you. 

 Your heart racing, never having done this before, you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

 "Is this-s okay?" you asked in a shy, uncertain voice. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gently placed a hand on your cheek. 

In his deep, southern accent, he reassured you, "Doll, ain't nothin' to be shy bout’. Yer doin' just fine. Keep goin' like that, nice an slow."

 As you held his cock in your hand, you marveled at its size and how it felt, barely fitting against your palm. With every stroke, you tried to mimic the rhythm you'd seen him do before when he'd spew himself on your tummy. The softness of his touch on your cheek reassured you, making you feel more at ease with each passing moment. As deep, low groans started flowing out of his mouth, you felt yourself grow more wet. His grip tightened on your cheek. The sound of his pleasure, mixed with the rush of the moment, sent shivers down your spine. You kept stroking him as you eyed it in front of you, glistening with anticipation. The sight of his throbbing member made your heart race, fueling your desire even further. His breathing became heavy, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your touch made it clear how much he was enjoying this moment as well. As you continued to stroke him, you felt his grip tug at your face to move closer to his manhood.

 Panic shot through you as you gazed up at him with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows, unsure of what he wanted next. 

"Awh, darlin’, don be scared," he whispered lovingly, his voice filled with tenderness. 

"Jus wants ya to give him some gentle kisses, show me how much ya adore me," he said, his words both soothing and tempting. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you processed his request. This was so new to you, you'd never felt his with your lips or hands before. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his shaft. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and with a mix of nervousness and desire, you pressed your lips against him, planting soft, delicate kisses along the length of his throbbing member. As you pressed your lips against him, his scent filled your senses, it was a distinct aroma that aroused you even further, making your heart race with want. The way his flesh felt on your lips was like velvet—soft and smooth, yet with a subtle roughness that made it all the more exhilarating. You could feel his pulse throbbing beneath the surface, echoing the desire coursing through your own body. 

 He reached out to hold your face, making you look up at him as he ran a swipe across your lips with his thumb, "How bout' cha give him ah lil’ taste, baby," he whispered in a low, commanding voice. 

 The words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with a mixture of nervousness, knowing it'd be your first time taking him in your mouth. With a shaky breath, you obediently parted your lips, allowing him to guide his throbbing shaft towards your waiting mouth. As the tip grazed your tongue, a surge of electricity shot through your body, causing your senses to heighten and your arousal to intensify. You could taste the saltiness of his arousal mingled with a hint of his musky scent, a heady combination that intoxicated you further. 

 As you slowly began to take him in, your mouth stretching and adjusting to accommodate his size, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washed over you. You were a bit clumsy and couldn't help but gag a little at first, trying to relax and focus on your breathing. Your rookie inexperience was evident, but you were willing to please him. Slowly, you went just past his tip trying to find your own pace and rhythm. You felt him buck into you, making you tense up a little and unconsciously attempt to back away a little, he then firmly brought his broad hand to the back of your head. 

"Relax, f'me doll, jus wanna feel more of tha pretty little mouth," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. 

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to panic as you looked up at him with your big eyes. 

 His grip on your head tightened slightly, guiding himself deeper into your mouth. Starting to gag, you struggled to maintain control and suppress the instinct to pull away. The taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and the musky scent of his skin filled your nostrils. As his hand continued to grip your head, his pace quickened, and you could feel his desire building. Your mind raced with a mixture of fear and arousal, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. 

 His other hand went to caress your face, giving it a soft slap, "Doin' so good, tiny," he groaned out. 

The sensation of his hand connecting with your cheek sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through your body. You felt the corners of your mouth starting to burn due to the stretch from his size, and you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to handle, but you liked this, you liked the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with him. It was a delicate dance between pleasure and pain, and you found yourself surrendering to the unknown. As his hand continued to explore your face, you felt him trying to horse himself in deeper, but you weren't letting him as you brought your hands up to rest against his upper thighs.

 He brought his large palm to stroke your throat, breathing out, "C'mon, baby, r-relax tha itty-bitty throat ah yours."  

His voice was low and velvet-like, sending shivers down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, but you did as he said. As you did this, he bucked straight to the back of your throat, almost fitting his whole shaft inside. The sudden intensity took you by surprise, causing a gag reflex to kick in. You fought against it, as you let out a tiny cry that sent vibrations to his cock and only seemed to heighten his pleasure. The tip of your nose is just barely grazing against his pubic hair. The sensation of his soft curls against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body, fueling the fire that was already burning within you. 

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his arousal filled the air around you. 

 As he thrust deeper into your mouth, your eyes began to water. The taste of him, slightly salty and intoxicating, lingered on your tongue, further abusing your senses. Your mind became a blur of sensations, the taste of him, the pressure against your throat, and the sound of his ragged breaths. He groaned above you, the sounds of your sweet muffled yelps and his cock hitting the back of your throat seemed to just rile him up more. But just as he was reaching the edge, he suddenly stopped himself. Harshly, he pulled out of your mouth, his length glistening with arousal and your saliva. 

 "Goddamn, honey!" he panted, his voice filled with lust. 

You gasped for air, your lips still tingling from his intense assault. Your eyeliner smudged from the force of his movements, matching the chaotic state of your mind. The taste of his saltiness lingered on your tongue, intertwining with the bitter sensation of adrenaline that coursed through your veins. You went to wipe your lips, feeling the mess of him and your drool covering your soft lips and chin, but he grabbed your hand before you could clean yourself up. His eyes locked with yours, and he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, sealing the taste of him on your lips in a deliciously filthy embrace. He pulled back, seeing your puzzled state, and reached up to clean some of your smudged eyeliner with the pad of his thumb. 

"Lordy, girl, ya sure make this old man feel young again," he chuckled, his voice laced with passion. 

You felt a rush of warmth surge through your body at his words. Not having a chance to answer, he gripped your face closer, giving you a harsher kiss. 

As he pulled back from the kiss, his grip on your face tightened, and he forcefully guided you back down onto the bed. You let out a low gasp at his sudden roughness as you lay there, arousal coursing through your veins. The sound of his pants and buckle hitting the carpet was heard in the room, only making you more aware of the intensity of the moment. You couldn't help but bring your hand and rub your small digits over your cunt, the ache almost paining you. Elvis saw the way you were growing needier and needier, and he let out a low chuckle. As he climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifted underneath you, sending shivers down your spine. You glanced up at him with your doe eyes, feeling both needy and shy at the same time. His gaze intensified, and his lips still formed a smirk, he brought his hand down over yours and pulled it away to catch a look at your throbbing core, glistening with desire. 

"M’god, yur all rosy an swollen," he teased, and he went to cup it in his hefty palm, relishing in the wetness that coated his fingers. 

You felt your body jolt at his touch, showing just how sensitive you were. Your breath hitched as he continued to stroke you, his fingers dancing lightly over your pulsing center. Giving your pussy two light slaps to heighten your arousal, he chuckled lowly, reveling in the way you flinched. He pulled his hand away and positioned himself in front of you as he pulled your legs apart and made them bend so that your knees were raised, exposing your most intimate area more to him. You watched as he reached for something, a dark glimmer in his eyes. As he retrieved the pistol another time tonight, a rush of anticipation and fear coursed through your veins once again. 

"It's alright, doll. Only wanna have more fun wit cha." The mix of arousal and trepidation overwhelming you. 

"O-Oki," you mumbled softly after some time, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your racing heart. 

 You watched as he moved closer between your legs and raised his arm over to your face, grazing the barrel along your cheek and slowly moving it towards your mouth. You look at him, and he gestures to open your mouth. You're hesitating, but comply. He swiftly inches the cold metal into your hot mouth as it grazes over your tongue, it tastes metallic and foreign. You can feel the weight of it against your tongue, the coolness spreading throughout your mouth. He slowly moves it in and out of your mouth, staring at him, his expression filled with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. As the cold metal continues to dance against your tongue, you feel him withdraw it as a string of your saliva comes along the tip of the metal. You can't help but shudder at the sensation, a mixture of discomfort and a strange, illicit pleasure. He brings the gun down along your neck, brushing against your necklace, then to your chest, tracing a chilling path along your skin. The metal's touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Bringing the gun to your breast, he traces it over your hardened nipple. You let out a shaky breath.

"Daddy-y," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire. 

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he replies, "Does it excite cha, doll?" 

Your heart races as you nod, unable to form words. 

Your body hums with anticipation as he continues his tantalizing exploration. The cold metal trails down your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape your lips. He stops the gun just above your lower abdomen, his fingers gently tracing circles across your sensitive skin. 

His voice drips with seduction as he murmurs huskily, "You want more, don't ya, tiny?" 

Your breathing quickens, as you notice how close he is to your aching cunt. Gulping, you watch as he hovers it just above the bundle of nerves with a quick motion. You reach to stop him, your mind filled with hesitation. But he was quick to raise his hand with the gun in his grip. 

“Aye now, none of that babydoll, hmm.” he asserts firmly.

You brought your balled up fists to rest on your chest and gave him an understanding pout, letting him graze the gun on your bud. As he does, a mixture of fear and excitement surges through your body. The dangerous thrill intensifies as you feel the cool metal brush against your hot, sensitive flesh. Your soft whimpers escape in short gasps as he rubs the barrel along your outer lips. As the tension builds, his touch becomes more deliberate, tracing the outline of your entrance with the cold barrel. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you feel yourself tense up as you feel him trying to push the gun inside you. 

 "Wait, wait!" you stammered, your voice trembling with nervousness. 

"Is-isn't.. this, too dangerous Elvis?" you stumbled over your words, feeling hazy and disoriented. 

The rush of adrenaline mixed with fear creates a dizzying sensation, clouding your thoughts and making it difficult to articulate your concerns. He looked at you with a stubborn expression, his gaze unwavering. 

"Come on, darlin," he said, his eyes gleaming with desire.

 "'Member why wer doin' this hmm, the Lord struck me with this vision, and I ain't one ta ignore His call." His words echoed in your mind, intertwining with the doubts that swirled within you.

 The weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, he leaned in towards you. Placing his forehead against yours as his grip on the gun continues toying with your entrance for access. 

"No, no," you stammer, your voice shivering. 

"I don't— f-feels wrong." 

Fear grips your heart as his eyes bore into yours, a flicker of anger crossing his face. His grip tightens around the gun, pushing against your opening.

 "Don't cha understand?" he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and fervor.

 "This is tha path we must walk together, doll, guided by His will." 

Your mind races, the conflicting emotions tearing at your soul. You look into his eyes and see a glimmer of hope—of someone who believes in something greater than themselves. In the midst of the intense moment, mingling with your feelings of desperation, you seek divine guidance. You hold onto the belief that, through this unsettling path, you and Elvis are bound by a higher purpose, walking together under the will of a greater power. As the intensity builds, Elvis places a hand on your cheek, seeing how your racing thoughts are slowly starting to disappear. 

"Attagirl, trust in Him, in Me." he uttered in his soothing drawl. 

As you look into Elvis' eyes, you find solace in his words and the comfort of his touch. In that moment, you give him a nod and surrender to the newfound growing faith, allowing yourself to trust in a higher plan. The pressure against your center intensifies as he continues rubbing it with the gun. Despite the unease, you remain connected through the shared purpose and the touch of his hand on your cheek. You feel as he retracts the gun from your entrance and backs up along your clit trying to give you pleasure in the midst of your discomfort, his movements becoming more deliberate and controlled. The combination of unease and pleasure leaves you bewildered, yet strangely more aroused. Your mind struggles to comprehend the conflicting sensations, but your body responds instinctively, arching towards his touch. He watches as you enter a state of bliss once more, the pistol getting easier to glide along your folds from all your slick. Inching the gun back towards your entrance, he presses it against you with a firm yet gentle pressure. 

"Quit clenchin', honey," he grumbled, his breath tickling your ear. 

You try to relax, and let go of the fear that still lingers in the back of your mind. As he eases the pistol's tip inside you, the cold metal sends shivers down your spine, contrasting with the warmth radiating from your core.

 "Look at cha tiny, yur doin' purfect." he purrs out as he lifts himself from hovering over you to take a look at how your cunt clenches at the muzzle. 

 As he begins to move it in a slow, rhythmic motion, you can't help but be amazed at the conflicting sensations overwhelming your body. The fear that once gripped you tightly begins to fade away, replaced by curiosity. The coldness of it all sends shivers down your spine. Elvis feels a mix of satisfaction, desire, and a hint of surprise as he sees how your body responds to his actions. He puts more of the pistol's barrel in, so you're taking about two inches of the gun. You hear him chuckle as he sees how wet and heated you are, and your face flushes deep with embarrassment. He moves slowly in and out at a delicious pace that has you letting out low gasps and moans of pleasure. As the pleasure intensifies, every movement of the pistol sends waves of ecstasy through your body. The combination of fear and arousal fills the room, creating an electric and forbidden ambience. With each thrust, you tighten around the barrel, your soft gasps and moans blend into a symphony of pleasure, driving him to push slightly deeper into you. The sensation of the cold metal against your walls only heightens the intensity of the moment, as you surrender completely to the dangerous passion enveloping you.

 "Daddy-y..I-." You start to feel that heat pooling in the low part of your belly, spreading through your entire body, reaching your fingertips, and curling your toes.

 Elvis sees that you're on the brink of pure bliss and pulls the pistol out of your throbbing heat, leaving you feeling empty, his eyes filled with hunger. With a mischievous smile, he grazes the pistol against your folds and up to your bud, and you can't help but shudder with anticipation. The cool touch of the metal against your sensitive clit sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. As Elvis continued to tease and taunt, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, barely able to wrap around it and pressed the side of the barrel more firmly against your bud while slowly moving your hips upward. 

Elvis saw this and was amused, smirking, “Look at cha honey, goin' crazy over ah piece of metal.’’

 Lost in bliss, you didn't pay attention to his words, you were so drowsy from the feeling and trying to chase that sensation you craved again. This ticked something in Elvis though, he had gotten jealous over the thought of something else but him giving you such grand pleasure. He yanked the gun from you with a growl, and threw it across the room, you let out a whine while looking at him dumbfounded. 

"N-no, Elvis-s!" You stammer, your voice laced with nerves and frustration. 

"W-Why did you, you do that-t? I was almost-." 

His eyes narrowed, and his voice was filled with annoyance. 

"You was almost wha, huh? Y’were gettin' lost in some dang stupid piece ah metal!" 

You bite your lip, the familiar sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins.

 "but.. but you.." you stutter, confused. 

He shakes his head, his bitterness evident as he moves over so he's resting against the headboard, "I jus... I don like seein' yur little pussy gettin' all soppin' wet if it ain't cause ah me. I ain't gotta be competin’ with no damn gun."  

Your heart races as his words sink in, a mix of desire and uncertainty swirling within you. You bite your lower lip, feeling a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins as you sit up and crawl in front of him. 

"But," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

"I-I was only feeling so, so good b-because you were there w-with me." you said quietly.

 His eyes darken with a dangerous intensity, and a smirk plays at the corners of his lips. His mood instantly switching again.

 "Is that so, doll?" he growls out. 

"I reckon, ya c’mere nd make me feel better then," he gestures you over to his lap with a swift motion. 

Your heart races as you obediently move closer, your body trembling with desire, but nervous hoping he wasn't still angry. As you straddle his lap, you can feel the heat radiating from his body, igniting a fire within you. His strong hands grip your hips firmly, and you can't help but let out a small whimper as you hover above his hard throbbing cock. 

"Why doncha give me ah sweet ride, darlin' '', his blue eyes dark with want. 

You gulp, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of the moment. With a raised confidence, you slowly lower yourself onto him while holding on to his broad shoulders for support, gasping at the slight stretch. Still not quite used to his size, you feel your legs quiver. His deep groan echoes in your ears as he tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you lower. 

"Lord, honey, this lil' pussy needs sum stretchin'," he blurts out in a low tone. 

You let out a pitiful cry as you took him in fully, your bodies becoming entirely intertwined in a passionate embrace. 

"Oh...oh god," you whine, your voice trembling with pleasure.

 You feel Elvis slowly beginning to thrust upward into your dripping heat, filling you completely with every movement. Each thrust sends waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you powerless to resist his advances. As the intensity builds, the rhythm of your bodies matches the beat of your racing hearts. With each deep thrust, you can't help but surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, your senses consumed by the touch of his skin against yours. 

Elvis whispered in your ear, his voice filled with lust and desire, "Y'feel so good, tiny. F-Fuck, can't get enuff of yuh." 

His words sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already intense pleasure you were experiencing. As he continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate, Elvis let out a low moan that echoed through the room. The sound of his moan only fueled your own desire, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your body arched against his, seeking more of his touch, more of his passion. 

 The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of his musky scent mixed with a hint of sweat, a potent aphrodisiac that heightened the atmosphere. Each breath you took seemed to draw you deeper into the moment, as if surrounding yourself with his essence would somehow bring you closer to him. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin echoed through the air, creating a trance of pleasure that drowned out all other thoughts.  

 As your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, you couldn't help but run your hands through his chest hair, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips. His groans filled the room, fueling the fire that burned between your legs. The feeling of his large arms wrapped tightly around your small waist provided a sense of security. You felt him ram into you deeper and couldn't help but let out a wail of pleasure as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, building towards an inevitable climax. His lips found yours, their touch igniting a fire within you that matched the one consuming your every sense. 

You pulled away, “Oh, I, I can-n feel it in m’tummy.” you softly cried out.

 "Is ma yittle d-dolly feelin’ all good in... er t-tummy?" He panted, sending shivers down your spine.  

 "Mhmm," you moaned, barely able to form words as the pleasure intensified. 

As his thrusts continued, the sensation in your stomach intensified—a delicious ache that made you yearn for it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling of desire ready to explode into an overwhelming release. He held you even tighter, his thrusts becoming more passionate. Your vision blurring, you felt his other hand glide over to your bundle of nerves, pushing you to reach your peak of ecstasy. Each movement drew you closer and closer to the edge, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer. With a breathless cry, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure washing over you and leaving you completely spent. Collapsing onto his hard yet soft chest, your legs trembled above him as you both basked in the impact of your intense orgasm. You could tell he was still yearning for release, his need was evident as his cock still throbbed and thrust inside you. 

 Catching your breath, you felt him shift underneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He flipped you over onto your stomach, positioning you exactly as he desired. You gasped in shock, but your jumbled mind prevented you from fully comprehending the situation. The aftershocks of your orgasm only made you struggle to process what was happening. As he entered you again, every thrust sent waves of pleasure and confusion coursing through your body. His hands firmly gripping your waist, he guided the rhythm, leaving you vulnerable and powerless to resist. Although your mind was clouded, your body arched in response to his commanding touch, willing to surrender once again to his insatiable desires. The weight of him pressed down on you, enveloping you in a delicious mix of pleasure and submission. Every movement seemed to blur the lines between pain and bliss, blurring the boundaries of your own identity. His chest brushed against your bare back, adding an extra layer of sensation to the already electrifying experience. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch and mingle with his own ragged exhales. The occasional sound of a low, guttural growl escaped from deep within him, further fueling the fire that consumed both of you. And then, unexpectedly, another climax crept up on you, taking you by surprise and leaving you gasping for air.

"E-Elvis" you wailed out.

Your voice cracked with desperation, and your body quivered with the force of the pleasure coursing through you.

“Mmf, h-hang in there, baby.” He comforted trying to soothe your overstimulated mind and body.

He continued to move against you, his own release imminent, but he didn't falter in his rhythm, driving you to the edge once again. As your mellow moans filled the room, the air crackled with a raw and primal energy, and you could feel the intensity of his desire he was clawing at. The world seemed to blur around you, your senses consumed by the blend of pleasure and drowsiness. Your mind was clouded, lost in a sea of sensations that left you highly sensitive.

 Every touch, every stroke sent electric currents coursing through your body, heightening your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. The intensity became too much to handle, pushing you to the edge of sanity. You felt your body exhausted and your mind going empty, the only thing you could do was clench the sheets beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself in some semblance of reality. The room around you felt like it was spinning, a dizzying carousel of colors and shadows. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, the air feeling heavy and suffocating against your skin. He lets out a gnawing grunt, pulls himself out, and sits up on his knees. Swiftly stroking himself until he spews his release onto your ass. You feel a sense of relief and soreness as you try to come down from your powerful orgasms and still your breathing. 

 He chuckles weakly, spreading his cum over both of your cheeks with his smooth tip, "T-Tiny, yer lil’ booty sure looks even p-perttier covered with mah babies." he pants out.

If even possible, your face heats up even more at his witty comment, and you gather the strength to look over back at him through half-lidded eyes, the feeling of drowsiness and contentment consuming you.

 "D-did I do good, b-bub?" you murmur, your voice carrying a soft, low tone. He smiles wearily, his hand gently stroking your hair. 

"Y'did more th-than good," he slurs, his voice filled with exhaustion yet affection. 

You are can feel his weariness as he lies back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. The room is filled with a comfortable silence and your breaths as you both bask in the aftermath of the erotic, hazardous experience. Slowly, he reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch tender and loving. 

"You were perfect…perfect f'me, sweet, yittle, doll," he murmurs, sleep already taking him. 

As his hand caressed your hair, you couldn't help but feel a sense of divine connection. The words wrap around you like a warm blanket, and you know that you have pleased him, fulfilled his message. The intertwining of the pleasure and fear you faced made you question the boundaries of your faith. Still drowsy, you inch closer to Elvis and rest your head against his fluffy, warm chest, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. You looked up at his face, his eyes were closed in peaceful contentment. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow from a lamp in the corner as you both lay in each others mess. On the wall, the cross hangs, casting a shadow that dances alongside the gentle sway of his snores. You close your heavy eyelids, cuddling closer to his warmth, succumbing to exhaustion from the nights events as sleep overtakes you both.

- This is the only account I have and the only platform I’ll be uploading my stories on, just informing in case my stories get stolen and re-uploaded somewhere else.

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[zer0pm]

Imagine waking up with Luis sleeping on top of you while you both take shelter from the storm.

Warning: suggestive content 🤫

A/N: editted for mistakes and added upon by just a little for your reading pleasure ;) thanks for your time

“Think it’s safe?”

“Only one way to find out. ¡Vamos! Into certain danger we go!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan. This man’s optimism was breathtaking, confident in his strides towards the abandoned looking house that you two discovered. You follow behind him, careful in your own steps and had your gun drawn at the ready in case of any unfriendly encounters. Thankfully, your entrance went unanswered and after a thorough search of the building, you both confirm that the coast is clear. Finally, a safe space to squat and wait out the storm.

Sighing in relief, you didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you took a seat on a rickety wooden chair in what you assumed to be the remains of a dining area. Running around avoiding countless plaga in the pouring rain took a lot of your energy and your weary state did not go unnoticed.

Luis speaks addresses you. “Why don’t you take a rest, my friend? There is a bed upstairs. I do not think the owners will mind it.”

Your brow lifts upon reflex, tempted by the idea of laying on something soft after hours of running for your life. However, the consideration of well-being for your present company outweighed your desire to address your own. So you counter him, “And what about you? You look just as bad as I do.”

The man dismisses your suggestion with a wave of his hand, “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no scary monsters come bumping in the night. No te preocupes, I’ll be fine.”

Always the gentleman this one.

Still, you weren’t going to let him get away with it. Especially at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes. Chivalry be damned. You take a moment to absorb your dusty surroundings and listen closely to the weather. The two of you were lucky to even find this place amidst the pouring rain and you were certain there wouldn’t be any uninvited guests coming in to hack you both into pieces anytime soon with how bad this storm is raging.

“Pretty sure we’re safe here, Luis. Can’t see anything in this damn rain and place looks like it hasn’t been occupied in ages. Plus, with Leon Kennedy roaming about, think Saddler is commanding his minions to focus more on him than us.” You wave your finger around the air, figuratively drawing the argument back at him. “So if you need some shut-eye too, I was told there’s a bed upstairs.”

Luis chuckles breathlessly, evidently amused at how you effectively countered him. He then hums aloud, seemingly taking your reasoning with careful consideration before a coy smile curves upon his handsome face.

“Qué lindo. So stubborn just to get me to lie with you.”

The color drains from your face in an instant.

“Now hold on a minute-“

The man cuts you off with a rambunctious laugh. “You’re much too easy to tease, my friend. Very well, then. You win!” he says with an affirmative clap before making his way to the stairs. Halfway up, he stops in his tracks to look down at you. “Well? You coming?”

You wait to see if he would follow up with further teasing. When he didn’t, you wordlessly got up from the chair and joined him. As he said, there is indeed a bed on the far wall of the room. Like the rest of the house, it looks like it had seen better days but neither of you were in a position to be picky especially when sleep was beckoning. You approach the bed and lift the sheets off, dusting as much as you can before setting it back down and doing the same for the pillows. The bed was big enough for two people, so it should be fine to share without worrying about bumping into one another in your sleep.

“There,” you huff, satisfied with how you prepared the bed. “Is there a side you prefe-“

Your voice catches in your throat when you turn around and take in the sight of Luis’ bare back. It was only when you see him fidgeting with the zipper of his pants did you find it again.

“What are you doing?!” you practically screech.

The dark-haired man glances casually at you over his broad shoulder, not at all bothered by your sharp tone.

“What does it look like? I’m making myself comfortable,” shrugs Luis. “I suggest you do the same. You’ll get sick if you sleep in wet clothes.”

The desire to argue for the sake of arguing was strong, but you found yourself distracted by his physique. For a man who claims to be just a “simple researcher”, he is pretty cut. The definitions of his muscles are both impressive and pleasing to the eye. It didn’t help that the man is devilishly good-looking as well, not that you will ever say that out loud. The man’s ego was big enough as it is.

If you were taking too long to speak up, Luis didn’t say. He turned his head away from your direction. “I won’t look, prometo. And I’ll take the left side. Muchas gracias.”

A man of his word, Luis did not once look your way as he wordlessly went to his side of the bed and slips himself beneath the sheets. After a moment of inner conflict, you heed his advice and strip yourself down to your underwear as well, taking your clothes and his to hang off the stair railing. Finally reaching the bed, you see that Luis was still lying on his side. The heavy breathing your ears pick up suggests that he’s fast asleep. Although your heart was beating frantically, you settle under the covers as well. Your form mirroring his with your back towards him. Sleep came quickly.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you woke up, you only know that it is still storming outside… and Luis Serra is on top of you.

His whole body is practically draped over yours. He partially lied with his chest both against the bed and on your side. The heavy weight of his right arm was wrapped around your middle with his hand resting almost possessively on your hip. You can feel his breath fan against your neck, leaving warm, lingering tingles upon your skin. It suddenly felt impossibly hot in this chilly room.

You didn’t need to see the man’s face to know he is still sleeping, snoring soundly against your ear. Careful not to wake him, you tried to move away. However, the moment you fidgeted, Lus stirs and his hand moves from your hip to your shoulder, effectively keeping you in place.

Well, then. This is awkward.

The idea of waking him up came to mind but you thought better against it. Why embarrass you both and deny the other some meaningful rest? That was the excuse you came up with as you feel the man nuzzle against your neck and shoulder. The scratch of his facial hair feeling wonderful against your skin. An involuntary sigh of pleasure escapes your mouth and you had to bite your bottom lip to stop more from coming out. You needed to pull yourself together. The man is sleeping, for god’s sake, and here you were, getting hot and bothered.

Just as you were about to accept your situation with grace, you feel Luis move once more. Followed by a lethargic groan, he twists until he is on his back, withdrawing his hand from your person until it rested on his sculpted abdomen. His eyes are still closed. His expression is peaceful, absent of the coquettish mask he usually wears. The man looks impossibly beautiful like this and you found yourself reaching a curious hand towards his face. You manage to stop right before his cheek, mesmerized by his sleeping form. If lives weren’t on the line, you’d watch him forever.

“How long have you been awake?”

The sound of his thick accent made you jolt, retreating your hand back to your side. You almost thought you were imagining Luis’ voice until your eyes catch the flutter of his lashes. Grey eyes peeking in your direction.

Unable to think of anything better to say, you candidly answer back, “How long have you?”

The Spaniard grins wryly. “Tocado. Point taken.”

He turns his head, his expression telling that the man is well-rested and now focused entirely on you. There was something in his eyes that you cannot place. Or more accurately, there was an emotion within them that you recognized all too well as you were certain you had the same burning in yours but dared not to acknowledge our loud. You mimic his movements, ensnared by his magnetic gaze. When he turned his body so that he was completely facing you, you did the same. Neither of you have broken eye contact. In the corner of your vision, you see him lift his hand until it hovered over your hip at the exact same spot it was before. Luis doesn’t lower it, however, his eyes silently asking for your permission. A slight nod from you was the sign he was waiting for and you are graced by his warm touch once more.

His thumb caresses soft patterns against your hip bone, teasing the skin beneath the band of your underwear. Your breath hitches, his subtle touches already stirring something fierce inside you.

“¡Mierda! Don’t make that face.” the man growls, wearing a serious, pained expression. You blink in confusion. Instead of elaborating right away, Luis earnestly squeezes your hip, earning a wanton gasp from your mouth, and pulls you in against him by the curve of your back.

“If you keep looking at me like that, mi amor,” he says through gritted teeth, his hot breath mingling with yours. “I won’t be able to savor you slowly.”

That undid you.

You weren’t sure which of you two closed the distance. While the storm was pouring freezing rain outside, you and Luis kept one another plenty warm inside.

.

.

A/N: Thanks for reading. You can find the next (Rated M) part here ;)

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 03

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: Things are revealed and someone underestimated that power that Y/N and Hongjoong has.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Mentions of estranged father/daughter relationship, a very minor character gets murdered, murder threats. Someone gets called a whore.

-> Word Count: 1501

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

When they pull up to Mun's restaurant, Y/N reaches for the car door handle to get out, but Hongjoong gently holds her back.  

“Something feels off. I have a bad feeling about this,” he expresses, worry etched on his face. “It seems like a setup.”  

She nods, sharing his unease. The dimly lit exterior of the restaurant feels eerily quiet.  "Unfortunately, we're more involved in this than I would like us to be. We need to get to the bottom of what's going on." 

“No matter what happens in there, I’m with you,” he assures her, his worry still evident as he leans in for a tender kiss. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says as they part ways.  

Stepping out of the car, they head into the small restaurant and finds the gang members who have allegedly been harassing Mr. Mun scattered throughout the dining area. The one she assumes is the leader has his gun aimed at a terrified woman. Ha-Na, now known to be Mun's step-daughter, sits in a chair, shaking with fear and tears brimming in her eyes as she struggles to hold back her sobs. 

As they enter the restaurant with their men behind them, the sound of Y/N's heels clicking on the concrete floor reverberates through the room, drawing all the mens attention to her. Before the leader can turn his gun towards her, Jongho sneaks up behind him, taking him down while Y/N swiftly disarms him, aiming the gun at one of his associates who steps forward, pulling the trigger and killing him instantly. Just as another man approaches, Hongjoong positions himself between Y/N and the threat, his own weapon aimed at the idiot. In an instant, everyone’s guns are directed at someone. 

“Yunho, get Ha-Na out of here,” Y/N orders the tall man. Mingi, with his gun still pointed at his target, moves to shield Yunho as he approaches the frightened woman. 

As Yunho nears her, Ha-Na’s fearful look morphs into a smug smile, and she bursts into laughter. “Oh, that was too easy,” she giggles, shifting her gaze to Y/N. Her expression falters when she sees she hasn’t gotten the reaction she was anticipating. “Why aren’t you surprised?” she asks, her smugness fading into a pout, clearly disappointed. “Sister.” 

“What? You didn’t we wouldn’t find out that Mun was a plant and that we wouldn’t dig deeper into the information you wanted us to find and the stuff you planted?” She questions, her voice sounding almost offended. “You severely underestimated me and my men,” Y/N taunts, turning the gun she’s holding onto Ha-Na. “We’ll never be sisters, even if we share the same father’s DNA.” 

“Boys, lower your weapons. These are our guests.” Ha-Na maintains her composure, but a flicker of anger crosses her eyes. “All I want is to chat.” 

"To chat? You went to all this trouble just to chat?" Y/N retorted, her voice dripping with annoyance as her grip on the gun tightened, her finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. No one knew what was going to happen next.  

The dim lights of the restaurant flickered as Ha-Na stands from her chair and steps forward, her demeanor calm but her eyes betraying her true feelings. "You misunderstand me, Y/N. How else was I supposed to get your attention." She gestures to her men now standing behind her, their weapons lowered but their stances tense. "Now, we can do this the hard way, or we can talk like civilized people."  

Y/N chuckles, "So now you're threatening me?" 

Ha-Na’s lips curled into a smile, “I’m simply trying to make you understand the gravity of the situation.” 

“A situation you’ve brought on yourself,” Y/N replies, feigning contemplation. "All just so you could talk to me. You could have saved my time and your lives and made an appointment with my secretary." 

“You know as well as I do that this isn’t just a simple conversation,” Ha-Na says. 

"Instead of yapping on about how serious this is, you better start talking, or I might just start shooting again." The threat hung in the air, a clear indication of how fed up she was with the situation Ha-Na brought her into.

It was the reaction Ha-Na had been hoping for. "We're sisters by blood," she starts, admitting to why she went to all this trouble. 

"Now which one of you is she fucking?” Y/N says pretending to ignore her. Her eyes scan the men behind Ha-Na and the man Jongho has kneeling on the ground, who gives himself away as he looks at Ha-Na with fear in his eyes. She moves the gun towards the man she had assumed was the leader and waves her fingers at him with a smile. “Should have known.” 

Ha-Na's voice grows louder as she trying to her sister’s attention back on her and away from her own husband. "Why would I pass up the chance to build an alliance? After all, our father and I are the only blood family you have left." 

"An alliance? You really don’t know me at all,” Y/N says turning her attention back to Ha-Na. She shakes her head in astonishment. It’s taking everything in her not to pull the trigger and end it all now. But she has another plan. “If you did, you would know that blood means nothing to me.” She scoffs, "Did you really think you can make a grand entrance into my life, waving the banner of sisterhood, and expect me to forget everything?” Her voice turns to one of anger. “The lies, the manipulation, the way our father turned is back on me when I needed him the most for your whore of a mother?" 

Ha-Na's face contorted into a look of rage. "My mother isn't a whore," she growls at her.  

Y/N's own anger turns into a smirk realizing she's struck a nerve as she hoped she would. She turns around to face her men, her back facing Ha-Na feeling secure enough that she wouldn't be stupid enough to have her goons try something. She looks at Yeosang and San, "Our own guests should be here by now. It's time to bring them in." 

Yeosang and San nod before making their way to the back of the restaurant and leaving through the kitchen.  

Hongjoong takes this moment to step closer to his wife. "Are you okay?" he whispers into her ear as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving Ha-Na or her men. 

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She can feel the weight of the gun in her hand, her finger itching to pull the trigger.  

"I’ll be better once this is all over," she whispers back to him, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside her. She closes the gap between them, giving him a sweet peck on his lips. "Just keep your eyes on her. She’s unraveling and might lose it when she sees who we’ve brought with us.”  

As if on que, Ha-Na's furious voice slices through the tense silence that had enveloped the room as everyone held their breath in anticipation of who was about to come in. "You think you can just ignore the bond we share because daddy didn’t love you enough to stick around?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "You’re wrong, Y/N. You’re so wrong about everything." 

Y/N doesn’t say anything as her hand once again tightens around the gun she’s holding. As Ha-Na continues to ramble on, the itch only grows stronger. 

“You need me, Y/N!” Ha-Na continues, causing Y/N to roll her eyes.  

Hongjoong’s presence beside her is keeping her grounded, but Y/N can feel the tension in the air thickening around her that it’s almost suffocating. She can sense the storm brewing inside Ha-Na, the way her voice is mixed with anger and desperation.  

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hongjoong murmurs, the concern for his wife in his eyes is unmistakable. He shifts slightly, positioning himself so that he can shield her from Ha-Na.  

She’s about to reply to Hongjoong when a shot rings out. She turns back to Ha-Na, who now has her own smoking gun pointed towards the ceiling where there is now a bullet sized hole.  

Y/N goes to speak, but catches sight of San and Yeosang entering the room again with two people following behind them. A sinister smile makes its way onto Y/N’s lips as she looks at her half sister, “Oh look, now we can have a proper family reunion.” 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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SKZ DRABBLE-Minho

Part II of Mafia!Minho

Tags: Lee Minho, Minho, Lee Know, Mafia!Minho, skz, stray kids, stay, skz x you, skz x reader, mafia au, femreader, y/n, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warnings: Mafia shit-guns, shady dealings, etc., blood, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth.

"This one can be yours. If you want it."

Your eyes flash to Minho in surprise, and he chuckles at the look of shock on your face, stepping up behind where you sit to press the loaded handgun into your slack palm.

He leans over, and you catch a whiff of his cologne-heady and familiar.

"You've been antsy. Bored." He murmurs in your ear, his voice low, as the men keeping watch in every corner of the room silently look onward, not moving a muscle, hands on their guns.

The guy in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, groans.

"You're not meant to be a housewife, darling. It doesn't suit you."

Minho reaches up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, and you shiver, your fingers closing around the cool barrel of the gun.

Something inside you feels strange about the fact that he'd paid enough attention to you to notice how you were feeling before you'd even put a finger on it yourself.

But it's not bad strange.

"Because you may be my wife," Minho continues in a murmur, releasing the gun fully into your hold now. "But you were your father's daughter first."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and steps back.

Without having to think it through, you rise from your chair, level the gun at the man sitting dazed in the center of the room, and pull the trigger.

********************************************************************************

You step around a puddle of something on the floor, it's dark enough to be blood, or it's simply from the heavy rain last night, and continue down the hallway of the shipping warehouse.

It's easy to be quiet, your worn, bloodied converse padding noiselessly down the corridor in search of your target.

You knew some Bosses that insisted their wives wear their heels to 'business meetings' but Minho had never placed that expectation on you, and you'd always felt more comfortable donning tennis shoes when it was time to get nitty gritty.

The blood washed out a whole lot easier from the canvas of Converse than it did the suede of Christian Louboutin's.

Plus, most of the lowlifes you dealt with didn't deserve to have your favorite pair of heels be their last view of the world.

Those were for Minho anyway.

You step around another suspicious puddle of unknown origin, and see the door you're looking for at the end of the hall, fast approaching.

"God, he's going to kill me for letting you do this."

You glance over your shoulder at Felix with a raise of your brow, pausing outside the door, one hand already on the knob.

You give him the start of a smile and a shrug. "He doesn't know."

Felix's eyes go slightly wide, panic writing itself across his expression as he continues to stare at you. "Wait, he doesn't know you're here, doing this in his absence, or he doesn't know that you're pregnant?"

You shrug nonchalantly, reaching for the gun you keep tucked in your waistband. "Both."

Felix stares some more, and you heave a sigh, rolling your eyes, as you reach to push open the door, for real this time.

"I haven't found a good time to tell him, okay? I wanted it to be a surprise. It has to be perfect."

"Oh god."

"Now-" You turn back tot he situation at hand, alert and ready, ignoring Felix's disapproving looks in your direction. "Let's meet our mole, shall we?"

Felix mutters something under his breath that sounds awfully like a curse, but you ignore him, shoving open the door as you draw and ready your gun simultaneously.

Inside, tied to a chair in the middle of the room and waiting for you, just like Chan said he'd be, is the man you've been looking for.

You give him a relaxed smile as you enter, Felix on your heels, but instead of directing your attention to him, you glance behind him to the man leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"You didn't rough him up too much before I got here, did you, Binnie?" You ask conversationally, as you make a circle around the man tied to the chair, inspecting his injuries.

Changbin grins at you, but doesn't move from his current spot on the wall. "Nah, I saved most of the fun for you. Just made him squeal a couple times like the pig bastard he is."

The man shifts and glares at Changbin, but you settle in front of him, crouched down to look up into his bruised and battered face with that same easy smile on your face.

You play with your gun as you stare at him silently for a few seconds, and he starts to squirm under your gaze.

Finally, you glance down at the weapon in your hand, and say casually, "He took it easy on you, Mr. Kang." You flick your gaze back up to his face, taking in the bruising around his eye, the split lip. "I won't be so considerate."

The man sneers at you, bloody spittle dripping from his lips, his gaze flashing to flick between Changbin and Felix, now leaning against the wall next to one another.

"Where'd you find the bitch? A street corner?" He flashes his angry, dark gaze back to you and leans forward as much as his bonds will allow, hatred dripping through his words. "Or did Boss Lee pussy out and send a woman to take care of his business?"

You see Changbin make a movement from the corner of your eye, but you hold out a hand, gaze never leaving the man before you, and he settles back into position, watching the interaction sharply.

You stand up, sighing, tsking slightly as you rise to full height in front of him.

"Honestly, I expected more out of you, Mr. Kang. Everything I've heard pointed to you being a man of greatness, someone capable of backstabbing the biggest mob boss and getting away with it, but this-" You wave your gun in his general direction with clear disappointment and dismissal. "This is just a tiny gnat spouting big words in hope of saving himself from the spider's web he's found himself irreversibly trapped in."

The man growls and thrashes against his bonds, and without warning, you press the gun into the underside of his jaw, and he winces, ceasing his movement almost immediately.

You lean over and get in his face, letting a smile slip once more across your lips at the sudden dark fear you read in his eyes.

He's finally putting it together.

"And just so we're clear-" You murmur, pressing the gun harder into the underside of his throat as you click the hammer back into place and he flinches. "-if you haven't already figured it out, Mr. Kang, I'm the fucking spider."

And you pull the trigger.

********************************************************************************

"Are you disappointed?" You ask in a whisper, as Minho holds the baby at the end of your bed, the doctor and nurses still hurrying around, cleaning up the room.

Minho's head snaps up, his gaze leaving the baby's face, and there's open confusion on his features as he stares at you.

"Why would I be disappointed?"

You shrug one shoulder, feeling stupid for having brought it up in the first place, but needing to know.

"My father never wanted a girl-"

Minho cradles the baby closer in his arms and steps up, settling beside you on the bed as he leans over and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

The baby makes a little noise of discontent at the movement, and settles back to sleep in her father's arms.

His expression is so serious it takes your breath away.

"Princess." He holds your gaze, and the warmth you see in his eyes has your aching body and mind feeling a hundred times lighter. "I am not your father. And if he was ever disappointed with you, then he's truly more of a monster than I thought. Because how could he, or I, be disappointed in something so-"

He glances down at the baby, a fond look settling over his rugged features, and reaches up an inked finger to stroke across her dark duck fuzz.

"-so incredibly beautiful and perfect?"

You let out the breath you've been holding and lean over to peer down at the baby as Minho continues to run his hand over her hair.

It's the first time since she was born that you've been able to get a good look at her, no machines plugged to you, no doctor or nurses trying to clean you up.

Minho's right.

She's beautiful.

You reach out carefully to touch the tiny, pink scrunch of her nose, and her eyes screw up, her lips pursing at the light contact.

She looks like Minho. But she also looks like you.

You glance up to see Minho watching you, and the corner of his lips lift into the hint of a smile, before he leans forward and kisses you gently.

"You did amazing, princess." He murmurs against your mouth, and all the hard work of the previous hours suddenly feels worth it at his genuine praise. "She's the perfect mixture of the two of us, and the best gift I've ever been willingly given. I'll spend our entire lives trying to repay you for bringing her into them."

And you know he means it.

********************************************************************************

"Mommy, do you think SuSu ever gets lonely?" Yeong-Ja asks, coming to sit beside you in the shade of the garden, making you look up from your book.

You consider for a moment, watching the dog in question roll around in the perfectly manicured grass with his toy bone held between his teeth.

"Hmm. I don't know." You finally muse back to your daughter, glancing over to her before you lean over and straighten the red bow at the end of her dark braid. "He has you, right? And he gets to go on trips with daddy sometimes and has a big important job of protecting us and our house. Do you think he even has time to be lonely with all that going on?"

Your daughter looks deeply thoughtful, and you bite back a smile as she turns to you seriously after a moment.

"I dunno. But maybe he'd like another puppy to play with?"

You laugh at her hopeful tone, glancing once more to the doberman, who has gotten up from his play to take a watchful patrol of the large garden, ears up and alert, strides purposeful.

"I'm sure he would. And I'm sure you would too." You lean over to tickle her sides briefly, making her squirm away as she laughs and shrieks. "But getting daddy on board with that plan will take more than a little bit convincing."

Yeong-Ja looks determined. "I'll ask him when he gets back."

You grin, leaning back on your hands as you lay your book to the side, and there is silence for a few moments, before you ask the little girl beside you, "Do you get lonely, baby?"

Yeong-Ja considers for a moment and then shrugs, playing with some grass between her fingers, still painted a bright purple from when Minho had done them for her before he left on his trip.

"Sometimes." She admits, glancing over at Suwon, who has resumed play with his ball.

She looks up at you then, her eyes large, dark and curious. "Do you get lonely when daddy's away, mommy?"

You feel a pang, and remind yourself Minho will be back tonight.

Gathering a smile once more, you lean over and press a kiss to her red, chubby cheek.

"Sometimes. But I have you. And Suwon. And daddy will be home before we know it."

********************************************************************************

"He's hopeless." Minho sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he's getting a headache, another torn up dress shoe at his feet. "That fucking dog is a menace."

You laugh, pushing up from the bed to wrap your arms around his waist from behind as you nuzzle into his shoulder, breathing him in, relaxing into the way his back rises and falls against your chest.

"He's still learning. He's barely out of the puppy stage. Give him some time. Chan promises once he's done with training he'll be the best damn guard dog this side of the Han."

Minho sighs again, and glances over his shoulder at you, slight amusement warming his dark eyes.

"Are those his words or yours?"

You shrug a shoulder and bury your grin in between his shoulder blades. "Both."

"Well-" Minho gripes, kicking the ruined shoe away, before he turns and gathers you into his arms, putting a finger beneath your chin as he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. "-he has to live long enough to receive Chan's training. And with the way he's destroying my Prada collection-"

You laugh, leaning up on your toes to kiss him once more, cutting him off.

"Your daughter loves him. So you can't kill him."

"I'll get her another dog." Minho grumbles halfheartedly beneath his breath. "I can buy her every fucking dog in Seoul if she wants, she's one for fucks sake, she won't know the difference."

You shake your head, grinning, and pull from Minho's grasp.

"You may head one of the biggest crime organizations in this city, Boss Lee, but I know you and I know your secret, and faced with your daughter's tears or the loss of your entire closet of dress shoes, you'd choose the latter."

Minho sighs with heavy resignation and stares up at the ceiling.

His headache looks like it's coming back.

"Fuck. You're right."

You laugh and he gives you a halfhearted glare. "I'm always right. And life will be easier for you as soon as you accept it."

********************************************************************************

The moment Minho enters your bedroom, Suwon is dropping into a happy puddle at his feet, tongue out and lolling, rolling directly onto his back as he stares up at Minho with bright eyes full of excitement and hope.

Minho rolls his eyes, but leans down to give the dog a few belly scratches regardless, before he nudges him out of the way with the toe of his dress show.

"Okay, okay, mutt. That's enough. Get the fuck out."

Suwon obediently rises to his feet at your husband's gruffly affectionate dismissal, and trots out the open door, probably off to settle down for the night in Yeong-Ja's bed.

You glance up from where you're currently sat at the bathroom vanity, wiping down your face, as Minho leans against the doorway.

"How'd it go?" You ask curiously, tossing aside the rag you were using, as you reach for your moisturizer.

Minho nods, following your movements with an unreadable expression. "About as well as could be expected considering the little hang ups we've been experiencing lately."

You tilt your head, studying him in the mirror, the tired clench of his jaw, the circles staring to bruise beneath his eyes, the normally pristine suit rumpled from the plane.

Minho sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, and holds your gaze through the mirror.

"I heard you went on a little unsanctioned outing while I was away, princess."

You freeze, because you've never been good at hiding anything from Minho, and swear loudly beneath your breath.

"Fuck. I'm going to kill Felix."

Minho looks amused now, arching a brow at you as he steps into the bathroom to stand behind you, hands going down on your shoulders.

"Felix didn't narc."

His words catch you off guard. "What, but then-"

Minho leans down to meet your gaze in the mirror, his lips pulling up into the start of a smirk as he inclines his head.

You follow his pointed gaze and catch a glimpse of the bloodstained converse peeking out from beneath the hem of the bed skirt.

Fuck.

Minho snakes a hand around the front of your throat, his large palm warm against your skin, and you swallow as you feel his fingers put pressure there, soft enough to be affectionate, but firm enough to tilt your gaze back and up to his where he stands behind you.

"So now it's my turn to ask you, darling-" He murmurs, voice low and intense, leaning in to your space once more, his warm exhales dancing across your skin and making you shiver.

He meets your eyes in the mirror.

"-How'd it go?"

You swallow again, hard, heart pounding in your chest, and let your gaze slip down to his hand still around your throat, the ink of his tattoos dark against his tan skin, the gold of his rings glinting in the light from the lamp.

Warmth pools between your thighs the longer you stare.

Minho is still waiting for your answer, so you lick your lips and redirect your gaze to his once more, molten and dangerous in the reflection of the mirror.

"I handled it." You say quietly, voice firm and resolute. "With a bullet between the bastard's eyes."

Something flickers hotly across Minho's gaze at your blunt statement and then he chuckles, coarse and raw.

"That's my girl." He murmurs against your ear, and the praise has you squirming in your seat as heat gathers instantly in your core.

"Minho-" You whine out, and he flicks his gaze to yours in the mirror.

"Something you want to ask me, princess?" He asks innocently, as if he hasn't just incited all of this with a single look and a few uttered words.

"Is there something you want me to ask you, Boss Lee?" You quip back instantly, and Minho chuckles again, that throaty sound that makes you want to lead him into the bedroom and to the bed immediately.

"Ah, see, princess-" Minho murmurs, leaning in close as he takes your chin in his fingers roughly, wrenching your gaze back to his once more. "-that's what I like about you. Always willing to push back and match me step for step."

There's fire in his eyes, and it lets you know you're playing a dangerous game.

Your favorite kind.

Minho's dark eyes flash as he forces you to watch your silhouettes in the mirror, his fingers sliding down your throat and to the closure of your top, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breaths.

"Now. Be a good girl and take this off. And when you're finished, you can get my gun."

********************************************************************************

"It's not your fault."

You don't even raise your eyes to look at Minho, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

You clench your knees tighter to your chest and stare at the way the water is swirling around your naked body and down the drain at your feet.

It's not even pink tinged anymore.

"It is though." Your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, and it's barely more than a whisper when you finally respond. "Just none of you will say it. Not to me. But I know you're saying it to each other when I'm not there, when I leave the room."

Minho sighs, and moves further into the steamy bathroom, leaning against the counter as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching you cautiously, expression unreadable.

You avoid his gaze, because he's got his emotions in control now, but you know that if you look at him, your mind will only replay the pain, the worry, the loss you'd seen in his eyes before.

And that will kill you.

Because you're the cause of it.

"Princess."

You curl tighter into a ball on the ridiculously large shower floor.

Minho crouches down in the corner of your vision, and his dark eyes flash sharply.

"(Y/N). Look at me."

He rarely uses your given name, and you flick your eyes miserably to meet his.

He sighs again, and his expression softens slightly.

"It is not your fault." He repeats, slowly and surely, and you know it should make you feel better, but it only makes you angry.

"It's not my fault?" You spit back, and to his credit, Minho remains steady, unmoving, in the face of your sudden fury. "It's my body that keeps losing them. I'm the one who can't seem to hold on. I'm the one who ruins our chances of ever meeting our babies before they're gone forever. I'm the one who's broken, who can't even give you what you want and it's not my fucking fault?"

You don't even realize you're crying until Minho slides into the shower beside you and gathers you into his arms.

You don't even have the strength to protest as he holds you and you sob into his chest, his dress shirt quickly growing heavy and drenched beneath your hands.

Finally, when you can catch your breath, Minho reaches up to wipe away the last of the tears from your eyes, stroking a soothing finger across your cheekbone before he says gently, softly, "You have absolutely given me everything I've ever wanted, princess. That little girl down the hall? She's my whole world. And you?"

He runs a thumb across your lips as you sniffle, fighting the tears once more.

"You will never understand what you've done for me. But I will never, ever need anything else in my life as long as I have you by my side."

********************************************************************************

"Is it someone's birthday?" Minho asks wryly when he comes downstairs and finds you and Yeong-Ja gathered in the kitchen, waiting for him.

"No, daddy." Yeong-Ja giggles, running to him as he swings her easily up into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of her dark hair. "You're so silly."

Minho tickles her a little, grinning down at her in his arms. "I don't know. It could be Uncle Felix's or Uncle Jisung's and I just forgot."

"That's why we have a calendar." You tease back, as Minho carries your daughter over to the table and sets her down on the counter, caging her in with the safety of his arms so she doesn't fall.

He gives you a wink. "You know, I never look at that thing, princess."

You mimic a sigh, but you're biting back a grin. "I know."

"Daddy, daddy, look!" Yeong-Ja, tired of being ignored, points out the cake sitting in the middle of the table, swinging her legs as she motions excitedly. "We made you a cake!"

Minho eyes the confection with open amusement and then glances between you and your daughter. "I see that. The question is why?"

Yeong-Ja squirms out of Minho's arms and jumps down from the counter with the help of her father's hand, running over to where Suwon lies beneath the large dining table.

She drags the sleepy dog out so Minho can see him and gestures to the red bowtie tied neatly around the black dogs throat, just beneath the large leather collar he wears.

"Look, SuSu got dressed up too!"

Minho crouches down, fingering the satin bow tie as the dog gives his hand a few lazy licks.

"Ah. And he looks very dapper." Minho replies seriously, before he reaches out and tweaks Yeong-Ja's nose, making her giggle. "But not as pretty as you."

"Yeong-Ja." You say, and your daughter glances up at you curiously, Minho following her gaze as you step out from behind the counter. You arch a brow at her and try to give her a pointed look. "Why don't you tell daddy why we made him a cake?"

"Oh!" Her eyes light up and she claps her hands, running back over to the counter and climbing up on one of the dozens of stools to pull the cake closer for Minho to see. "We have a surprise for you, daddy!"

Minho stands, brushing dog hair off his pants, and comes to stand beside you, his arm snaking around your waist as he watches Yeong-Ja.

"Did you really make that cake, or did you bribe cook to do it?" He murmurs to you beneath his breath as Yeong-Ja continues to chatter on excitedly.

You swat his chest lightly and try to muster up an offended look. "I'm actually hurt you would ask that."

He chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "Just curious, princess, that's all."

"All right." Minho tugs you back against him, both arms going around your waist, his chin resting on your head as he looks to your daughter and the cake once more. "What's the surprise, baby girl?"

Yeong-Ja looks to you for confirmation, suddenly serious, and you nod slightly, telling her to go ahead.

Sudden butterflies swarm in your stomach.

Yeong-Ja, taking her job incredibly seriously, climbs down once more from her perch and makes her way across the kitchen, returning momentarily with the little gift bag the two of you had prepared earlier and hidden from Minho's view behind the cover of the counter.

Minho glances down at you curiously as she approaches, but you don't look up at him, worried the sudden wobble of your lip or the sheen of your eyes will give you away.

Your daughter presses the gift into Minho's waiting hands.

Minho stares at it for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"Open it, daddy." Yeong-Ja finally says impatiently, stomping her foot, and Minho chuckles, breaking the tension.

"Okay, okay. Patience, baby girl."

He tugs the first ribbon off the bag, and you feel your entire body suddenly tense with nervous energy.

Shoving aside the tissue paper, he reaches in blind, giving Yeong-Ja a secret little smile and a wink as he does so, and when he pulls his hand back out, he uncurls his fingers to reveal what was inside.

Nestled in his large, ink covered palm is a tiny stuffed replica of a Doberman, one that looks awfully like a certain dog currently sleeping a few feet away under the dining room table.

Minho stares at the stuffed animal for a few beats, and then he glances up at you, confusion clear in his dark eyes.

"Please, for the love of god, don't tell me we're getting another puppy."

You laugh, but the sound is watery as you shake your head and open your mouth to respond, but Yeong-Ja beats you to the punch.

"No, daddy, silly!" She points at the toy held in his hand, eyes bright, expression beaming. "That's a toy for the baby!"

Without seeming to be able to stop himself, Minho murmurs out with clear relief beneath his breath, "Oh thank fuck."

You laugh again, and he looks to you for confirmation as Yeong-Ja steals the toy from his grasp, moving to show it to a very unimpressed Suwon who she has just woken from his nap.

You nod at the look on his face, the hesitance held in his eyes, and something changes at your silent acknowledgement, his expression growing incredibly soft and intense all at the same time.

He stands up and is to you in two strides, tugging you into his arms even as the tears run silently down your cheeks.

He buries his face in your hair and breathes you in for a few seconds, before he pulls back, reaching up to swipe away your tears as he asks quietly, voice hoarse, "Another murder baby?"

You laugh through the tears and lean up to kiss him, tasting the happiness on his lips as you confirm back breathlessly, "Another murder baby."

[solarmorrigan]

69 + 27 for steddie :)

I got really stuck on this one for a bit, but it ended up being one of my favorites. Thank you for the prompt!

From the Fanfiction Trope Mash-Up list: 69. Flirting Under Fire + 27. Sick/Injured Fic

cw: canon-typical violence, mentions of injury

-

It’s a little bit like date night, really.

Like, in a twisted sort of way.

They get some time away from everyone else, they’re doing something together, they get to appreciate each other’s skills and competency – so what if the activity in question is patrolling Hawkins’ cracked and monster-infested streets? Times are tough, they take what they can get.

In any case, Steve has found he very much appreciates the chance to watch Eddie snipe demobats out of the sky, or take demodogs out with a well-aimed shot to what could dubiously be called the head (curly-haired brunets with guns; apparently Steve has a very specific type. Go figure). Eddie, in turn, has made no secret of how he enjoys seeing the power and strength in Steve’s swings when he takes on all manner of beasts with his trusty nailbat (Mark 2. Nailbat Mark 1 had unfortunately splintered some time ago, may it rest in peace).

And if they decide to go to bed immediately after showering off the muck and ash once they’ve gotten home, it’s because they’re tired from patrol. Obviously.

It’s possible, though, that they’ve gotten a little too complacent. They’ve had a string of easy patrols, picking off single demobeasts or taking out small groups with the ease that comes with practice. There haven’t been any surprises or mishaps, almost like the monsters have fallen into an easy pattern of their own.

Or maybe thinking like that is where Steve slips up.

Eddie whistles as Steve follows through on a swing that crushes the ribcage of the final demodog in the small pack, effectively taking it out of commission.

“Nice form, Harrington.”

“Right,” Steve drawls, turning a warm smile on Eddie that takes any of the sting out of his teasing, “because you know so much about baseball.”

Eddie’s smile turns wolfish. “Who’s talking about baseball?”

Steve snorts, shaking his head, still smiling. He’s never had someone lay it on so thick with him – he’s never had the blatant flirting and the silly nicknames and the entirely unsubtle once-over glances, and he kind of loves it. He loves Eddie, really, but even in the midst of a mini apocalypse, it’s probably too soon to go around declaring that.

Instead, he glances around at the monsters strewn on the ground, and then at his watch. It’s nearly midnight; they’ve been out for hours, and this is the only encounter they’ve had.

“Think we’re done for the night?” he asks

To his credit, Eddie does a quick check of the area before stepping in close to Steve. “I’m nowhere near done with you for the night, sweetheart,” he purrs, and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine.

“No?” he asks, gaze flicking down to see the way Eddie’s lips curl into a smirk.

“Nope. Let’s go home and I can show you what else I have in mind.”

Steve is so distracted by the idea, by the thoughts Eddie’s words conjure up, by Eddie himself, that he almost misses it – the movement right in the periphery of his vision.

Almost, but not quite.

As it is, he barely has time to bark out, “MOVE,” at Eddie and give him a hard shove, getting him out of harm’s way. He doesn’t have time to follow.

The pain of the demodog’s claws raking across his side is so sharp that it burns cold, and the force behind the blow winds Steve and knocks his bat from his hands. He can see it drawing back for another swing—it’s the one he thought he’d killed first with a solid blow to its gaping maw—but he can’t move, can’t force his body to cooperate, and he’s about to die–

The sharp report of Eddie’s shotgun rings out, and the demodog jerks. Its head is gone, black ooze splattered all over everything (probably up to and including Steve’s wound, Steve realizes with a shivery sort of distaste), and then Eddie is at Steve’s side.

“Shit, shit, baby, sit down, you look like you’re about to–” Even as Eddie’s saying it, Steve’s legs start to shake hard enough that they practically go out from under him, and Eddie just manages to catch him before his knees hit the pavement.

Looking back on it later, Steve really only remembers snatches of what happens next: using Steve’s jacket as a compress (it’s ruined anyway), Eddie speaking frantically into the walkie to call for a pickup, Eddie talking to him low and soothing until Hopper’s truck pulls up, Hopper’s many varied and colorful swears as he helps bundle Steve into the back. Steve definitely remembers that he passes out sometime around when they dump the heavy-duty, Upside Down-grade disinfectant over the slashes in his side, and he’s grateful he does.

Eddie is there, sitting by the bed when Steve wakes up, looking like he’s aged about ten years in the grey light of what could either be dawn or dusk.

“Hey,” Steve rasps, aiming a tiny smile at Eddie.

“Steve, what the fuck,” Eddie demands, and it only makes Steve’s smile grow.

It isn’t exactly the first thing he’d wanted to hear, but it’s a very Eddie thing to say all the same.

“Wasn’t gonna–” Steve breaks off with a hiss as he tries to sit up a little further against the headboard, and Eddie darts forward to help support him, to rearrange the pillows and get him a little more upright. “Wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

“Steve–”

Actually, fuck ‘too soon.’ Fuck waiting.

“I love you,” Steve says, and Eddie falls silent.

Steve doesn’t regret saying it—he could never, he’s pretty sure—but Eddie is quiet just long enough for Steve to get nervous before he’s pressing forward and kissing Steve, hard and full and insistent.

“I love you, too,” Eddie murmurs, the words almost lost inside Steve’s mouth, like he can’t even wait long enough to get them out before taking another kiss. “Never do that again.”

Steve kisses back, matching the passion as well as he can with what little energy he has, and makes no such promise.

He loves Eddie, after all. He could never lie to him.

[strawbeelemonade]

Would it be possible for you to do romantic headcanons but for gwen stacy?

of course you can! i had fun with these >:) my girl is not getting enough love,,, she's literally the silly,,,

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS: Gwen stacy

why is it so hard to find gwen stacy gifs >:( had to go aHSCROUNGING

🕷 - she’d flirt with you as spider woman.

🕷 - maybe it’s the mask, but she finds it easier to say what she’s thinking when you can't see her face.

🕷 - just like Miles, she deepens her voice but she constantly slips out of it because!! She forgets and you give her butterflies!!

🕷 - she’d feel a bit silly, assure her that you think its cute for me please!

🕷 - if there’s ever a time that you need rescuing she will BE THERE

🕷 - that’s her moment. she is WAY TOO READY.

🕷 - she’s so ready in fact that she might end up jumping the gun a bit when nothing all that serious happens…

🕷 - “WOAH-! Easy there- That was a close one… wouldn’t want you Getting hurt. ahah.."

🕷 - no Gwen 😭 they looked both ways before stepping out in to the road when no cars were coming please.

🕷 - are you really complaining though? you're in spider woman’s arms! cmon.

🕷 - if there’s ever a moment something really happens, then all other thoughts leave her head as she pivots around mid swing and launches herself to catch you.

🕷 - she’ll have you by your waist by one hand, her super strength and sticky grip will keep you on her hip securely, rest assured. slowing both of your descents to a screeching halt with a single strand of webbing.

🕷 - if you wrap your arms around her neck she will be on cloud 9

🕷 - you find yourself slipping away from social situations more and more

🕷 - it doesn’t matter where you both are or what your doing, if she gets a hold of you she’ll start pulling you to the nearest exit or window, cmon, she knows a great spot.

🕷 - she can sit and talk to you for hours, listening to your voice makes her physically decompress.

🕷 - "what kind of spray do you use..? its really nice."

🕷 - when your feet meet the floor she’ll hold you steady if you stumble

🕷 - she’s got you, she won’t let you fall ever again. She promises you that.

🕷 - your time with her after is incredibly brief, because pretty soon the police are pulling up nearby and that means she's gotta run.

🕷 - she tries to lift her hand off of you, but her instincts are telling her not to let you go, so she sticks HAGSAHGSAGHSV

🕷 - h... hang on give her a second...

🕷 - sorry! its gonna feel like ripping duct tape off your bare skin.

🕷 - she just!... She doesn't know when shes gonna get to see you again.

🕷 - she hasn't even asked your name, she has couple dozen things lined up to ask you.

🕷 - are you ok? who are you?? are you into blondes??

🕷 - but she's running out of time, and the police are drawing closer

🕷 - so she thinks fast, and she offers to give you her number.

🕷 - what, why? oh, yknow... in case anything else happens. definetely just that.

🕷 - when you accept she has to reel In her excitement a bit,

🕷 - she tries playing it off she's so cute.

🕷 - right after she punches the last number into your phone she's been spotted. and she flees for her life,

🕷 - you're left standing there breathless.

🕷 - thats the start of how you both met. from then on your worlds begin to revolve around eachother.

🕷 - messages between you both go from alerting her to criminal sightings.

🕷 - too sending her news articles about the crimes she's solved and congratulating her.

🕷 - too memes which spur friendly conversation and eventually offers to meet up.

🕷 - you have her as ’The Muscle’ in your phone. when she catches a glimps of it it makes her go a bit bashful, aw.

🕷 - the closer you both get the less confident she becomes.

🕷 - she’ll tuck her hair behind her ear a for the 4th time within the conversation and she’ll want to throw herself off a cliff LMAO.

🕷 - you leave her feeling so light and giddy. She feels childish for it, but she can’t help it!

🕷 - even her dad notices, which leads to a really… awkward conversation.

🕷 - “so… how’s your, uh, friend?”

🕷 - “Y/N?” She’d sit up quickly at the sound of your name and then realise that friends don’t normally go red In the face when someone bring the other up. “they’re!… fine.”

🕷 - “good! That’s good…”

🕷 - …

🕷 - “…would you… like to invite them over for dinner sometime?”

🕷 - George Stacy sees how happy you make his daughter and he immediately takes a shine to you.

🕷 - he tries to do the whole “whatever you do to my daughter I’ll do to you” schtick

🕷 - but he literally can’t commit, the way that Gwen is looking at you from across the table is indescribable.

🕷 - his heart clenches. Even this early on in meeting you he knows you’re good for her. You make her open up like nothing he’s ever seen. not since they lost Peter.

🕷 - George will end up really caring for you after not too long.

🕷 - he WILL offer to chauffeur you both in his police cruiser for dates. Pls let him, he wants to be useful! he’ll be your guys’ biggest supporter.

🕷 - you’ll know you’ve earned his favour when your standing in the door to their apartment, and just before you both part ways he’ll plants a hand on your shoulder, the other resting on his belt, and tells you in no uncertain terms that if you ever get in any trouble, then you can call him.

🕷 - Gwen will show you her room <3

🕷 - PLS SHES SO SHY HAGHGGHARFSXKYTD

🕷 - she’ll stand in the middle of the floor rubbing her arm as she watches you look around.

🕷 - she’s a cuddler

🕷 - especially when you both sleep beside each other

🕷 - she’ll cling to you in her sleep, tight, like she’s scared you’ll disappear

🕷 - good luck getting out of her arms, especially with her sticky hands.

🕷 - you will find yourself slipping away from social situations more often when you're with her.

🕷 - it doesn’t matter where you both are or what you're doing, if she gets a hold of you she’ll start pulling you to the nearest exit or window, cmon, she knows a great spot.

🕷 - she can sit and talk to you for hours, listening to your voice makes her physically decompress.

🕷 - she feels so calm when you nearby.

🕷 - she'll love it if you run your fingers through her hair.

🕷 - while she's only in a band for a shortwhile, you'd be her biggest supporter.

🕷 - the nights she plays she'll invite you to watch. you're in the front row cheering her on.

🕷 - teenage girls can be a bit mean, so her bandmates might tease her a bit, but she isn't even listening. she'll just be watching youspider.

🕷 - they seemed cool in the movie but just incase.

🕷 - she loves kissing your nose! almost as much as your lips

🕷 - if shes in the mask and there isn't time for a proper kiss she'll gently boop her nose into yours before saying goodbye.

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow IX

Hero cautiously approaches the cell door, taking a moment to steady his breath. Inside, Weapon sits just as he left him before, crouching on the floor with a drowsy attitude, clutching absentmindedly his blanket. Despite this, Weapon stirs before the door even opens. Once Hero unlocks the door, he quickly hides the blanket behind him as if fearing it might be taken away.

Stepping into the cell, the Captain positions himself in front of his prisoner, diary in hand. The same they found near the enemy's base. His soldier who’s fluent in Polareçe, has opted to remain outside. Everyone fears and wishes to not be around the living weapon, especially the ones who have lived in the occupied land. The Hero opens the diary without saying a word and looks at his soldier’s notes. written on a side paper, translating and explaining a bit of the foreign contents of the notebook. He looks at Weapon, who smiles at him from the floor.

“Let’s see which one are you out of the bunch” mumbles Hero, and with an unsure sight, he starts reading the names out from the list.

“Avi…rin?” starts the Captain, trying to pronounce the name right. He has some notes that helps him get it right. That one was easy, he thinks. He looks up to Weapon, searching for a reaction. But Weapon just sits still. His expression has changed a little, tho. As if curious.

“Avirin? Are you named Avirin?” Repeats himself Hero. Weapon looks uninterested again, and rests his chin on his right knee, caressing the ground absentmindedly.

“Ok… Next one then” says Hero. Now this one looks difficult: “Solk-ïr. Solkïr?” Hero looks up again. Weapon keeps looking at the floor, unbothered. The Captain wonders if his accent is so bad not even Weapon can make out what he is saying. But he is sure that’s correct. 

“How about Rraptúrr? Mmh? Rraptúrr. Anything?”

Weapon looks weirded out a little bit. He smiles shyly at the other's pronunciation. Hero gets even more annoyed.

“If that’s how it’s gonna be, then be it” spits Hero. He reads the next name, not quite sure this is gonna work: “Vicc… Vicci?”

Suddenly there’s some movement on his prisoner’s part, and Hero brings out his gun in a millisecond, prepared for anything. Weapon has stepped on his feet, and he is crunched down but looking at Hero in the eye.

“Vicci, huh? Are you not?”

Weapon looks at him funny. He then looks at the gun the Captain is holding and looks bored. He looks away as if trying to remember something. He looks at the ground in front of him, and his index starts sliding on the dusty surface. Hero takes two more seconds to realize Weapon is actually writing letters in the dust. He decides to pocket his gun again, and approaches his prisoner, who looks to struggle to remember how to draw letters, and after some effort finishes at least the 5-letter name. 

“VICCI” Weapon has written down. He looks up at Hero again and points at himself. Suddenly, he speaks, with a raspy voice, something that could be mistaken for a growl.

“Ja Vicci” says Weapon, with a voice that hasn’t been used for ages. Hero looks at the letters on the ground, then looks up at Weapon again.

“Vicci” repeats the Captain, and Vicci smiles.

“Vicci, Vic-ci” repeats Weapon, as if indicating the stress on the last syllable.

“Vicci, ok” nods Hero. He then tries to do the same, and points at himself this time:

“Je… Er... no, ja… Ja Hero” Says the Captain. And so, the two of them finally look at each other, not as guard and prisoner, but as people, nonetheless.

Notes: Polareçe [pronounced as "polaresse"] is a made-up language, and for Vicci's name pronunciation, here's a little help: "cc" sounds like "k", so it's Viki but with the stress on the last syllable: Vicc(í). Hope this helps!

Taglist: @whump-blog @bitchaknso @pumpkinsncoffee @scrumpledumple (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

[bryce-bucher]

500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Post #15

WISHLIST IT PLZ!

Water Ripplez:

I've been playing DMC3 lately, and I noticed some of the enemies in that game pop out of the ground with this warble effect that makes it look as though the ground beneath them in distorting. I asked some fellow devs about how that might've been done and eventually landed on a specific method.

The first step was to go into blender and create this little waves/ripple model and bake it onto a flat plane to get the normal map. If you don't know what a normal map is, it is a 2d texture that tells light what direction it should bounce off it in order to give the illusion of depth. Look them up they are cool.

The next thing I did was make a circular model and align the UVs so that scrolling it downwards would make it look as though the waves were traveling outwards from the center.

Then I brought that model and the normal map into unity and set up this refraction shader. dw about it.

And finally it all came together to become a little ground distortion. Wow, i'm so proud of it. Not proud as in im proud of making it, but proud of it as if it were my son.

Bubblez:

I decided to add in lil bubbles(z) that you can jump into and they pop which launches you up. They've turned out to be really helpful for bridging gaps in level design, and they were easy af to make. Not much to say about them besides I hope they r fun and I'll be adding cool pop particles to them later.

Doctor Spider:

The first thing I did when getting back on this project after my big October break was finish up Doctor Spider.

He is the second target in the desert nightclub area, and he lives up this big ass dome. You gotta bring him some blood wine to draw him out and then shoot him with ur gun. He sucks.

Conclusion:

Uhhhh.. idk. Ima be posting more about this again, so look forward to that or don't if u don't wanna. Wishlist the game if u think it looks cool and hope u have good day tyty

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital setting, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

It was an easy day. Or, it was supposed to be. Hell, you had dinner plans. But, working at a hospital isn't always so smooth sailing.

That day you'd just been doing routine, checking up on patients and running files back to the cabinets, taking tests to the lab. You'd just had a breath, eating some incredibly stale pretzels from the vending machine when your pager had started to ping.

And in a blink, there was a rush of feet echoing down the hallway.

"Holy shit," you murmured, launching to your feet, and tossing your trash out with ease. The murmur of frantic beeping and tones you recognized launched you into action.

Just as you poked out of the room, a gurney made its way through the hallway, doctors you knew following closely behind. A familiar stain of red grabbed your eye in the flash that you saw.

"Dr. Madison, what-"

Without breaking a step, they continued rushing down the hall, the man in the gurney, surprisingly quiet.

"Gunshot wound left shoulder," he answered to you, but also just kind of stated, "We're headed to OR 3."

"Is there any family?" You spoke, tone concerned, eager to help how you could.

"Yes, yes. The waiting room, his partner," Dr. Madison, "-police partner."

"Fuck, he's an officer?"

Dr. Madison didn't answer, as the man started to become restless, blue eyes becoming fuzzy. As you found yourself following the gurney, you weren't needed in the OR, but you'd always had a talent for calming patients.

With a look to Dr. Madison, he gave you a nod, and you made your way to the front, "Sir?"

There was a lot of noise, the murmur of machines, the spinning of the gurney wheels, and the tones of the different doctors discussing the amount of blood he was losing but you still heard it.

"Rick," he spoke, in a breathy southern drawl, "-call me Rick."

"Rick," you smiled, a little relief he seemed to be able to communicate, "Hi, Rick, I'm nurse Y/N. Do you-"

There was a breath before his eyes flicked around himself, widening and looking back at you - bright blues, "Where's... Where's Carl and Lori?"

You gently placed a hand on his, to calm him, "Is that your family, Rick?"

"M-My wife, and kid. God, where's my kid?"

"Rick, listen," you spoke, drawing his attention with your hands trying to keep him from moving so much, "-I will find them for you, okay? Your family is safe."

"Promise me, you'll find them," he spoke, breathy, and his eyes cleared of their haze for a second. The blue was like a clear sky; you felt as if he was staring into your soul, and your breath hitched.

"Promise me."

With an exhale, you spoke of your own accord, "I promise."

He leaned back with a cough, but there was some relief there, you could see it. You fell behind the gurney's speed, and felt a shake in your breaths, watching as it disappeared behind an elevator door.

"I promise," you breathed out solidly, and tried to shake the burn of his gaze from your memory.

That was two weeks ago.

Rick Grimes had been in a coma immediately after his surgery, well, after being put to sleep, he never seemed to wake up. Dr. Madison had with ease put him under your care, a trust that was added onto your list, but you hadn't minded, not really.

You'd met Shane first, out in the waiting room, eyes frantic and his hair sticking up from where he seemed to tug on it -his eyes latching on yours. There were a few officers by him, both with hands on his shoulders and they stayed there, as you relayed what you were told to him.

'Is he gonna be okay?'

You told him what you could, doing updates from the OR as soon as you got them. Within a few minutes, more officers had come in tow with a woman -tall, and pretty with brunette hair- and a young boy -the same eyes you'd seen in his father's.

It stuck with you for a second. The pure blue holding onto every word you spoke.

They stuck with you, even more, the hour that they'd confirmed his comatose state, the tremble of the two's lips, and the tone the son spoke to you.

"You have to take care of him," he muttered, eyes shining and watery, "-you have to save him, please."

And with familiarity, you spoke -warm and calm, "I promise."

Despite your promise, you watched as the weeks passed -the light filtering out of their eyes. Rick stayed completely still, the hum of his breathing being the only sound echoing out of the room. Carl, who you had come to know well, stayed as long as he could -talking about any and everything with his dad. Lori sat by his side mostly, holding his hand and rubbing a thumb across the back of it. Shane started at a distance but began to hold her shoulders as they looked at his sleeping face.

And by the third week, the news started to implode, and you were often needed in other rooms. News of airborne sickness growing within the hospital, within dead people.

Visitors weren't allowed in. All staff was kept in.

Rick was still in a comatose state, and all you had were phone calls with the family but eventually, they stopped too. You'd call, but the line was cut -you assumed no one was home.

The reports had stopped even going through, rooms locked with reanimated faces pushing against the glass - some faces you knew and others you never would. Despite the air of the hospital being much different than it once was, you took your duties as seriously as you could.

Patient by patient and doctor by doctor, the hospital began to be infested - no longer locked rooms, but locked wards, operating rooms, and boarded windows. One of the last days you were there, was the day you found Dr. Madison. His face was deteriorating, skin drooping, and blood dried up, god when did he die?

With an exhale, you boarded up what you could and primarily focused on your last patient: Rick Grimes. The world was crumbling around you, but you couldn't leave him -after frantically searching his body for teeth marks, you didn't find any. He could still live.

"It's going to be hell when you wake up, Rick," you spoke, voice scratchy and unused -hair slick with sweat, "-real fucking hell."

When you decided to leave the hospital, it wasn't an easy decision. Not when your morals were so set when your job wasn't complete, but you knew you had to.

So, that day (god only knows the actual date) you started gathering what you could, medicine, bandages, probably expired vending machine snacks, water, and some sort of weapon.

Originally, in the early stages, the hospital simply treated it like a disease- quarantining the sick, and going in with hazmat suits. You watched one of your coworkers get torn to pieces by a simple human jaw.

Then it was locking them in rooms, and drafting cure ideas -along with some intel from a few top scientists, it never quite got too far.

You'd done it first, cornered in the room you'd taken to be your own by one you'd known -a patient that had been there for months, just waiting on a new organ. She'd wanted to be an artist.

You'd cried for 3 days after that, blood smeared all over your face and your hands. They shook for a week after, and sometimes, you still saw the stains on your hands -even though you'd scrubbed it all away as soon as you found an available space.

With all the preparations, you returned to Rick's room.

It was still the same room it had been all those weeks ago, except for the drawn curtains and distant growls that echoed through the hall no matter where you were. Wiping away your eyes, you set to work.

You couldn't be there, but you would be sure he could survive without you. Gathering extra resources and enforcing the windows, your eyes fell on the man. He looked the same, except for the scruff on his chin; and suddenly you remembered Lori kept shaving it -each week she came in and paid extra attention to his skin. Carl and Shane would step out, it always seemed so intimate as she shaved his face - holding it as gently as she could and sometimes she'd be crying. Tears silently falling with the smooth movement of her hands.

You had left during that time as well, only saw in glimpses the gentle touch and affection. If his family was out there... he'd want to be clean-shaven. You owed him that much.

With a breath, you rummaged around in your overnight bag you packed what felt so long ago. It was for when shifts got long, and this one certainly has gotten long.

Finding a razor was easy, and grabbing a lotion from one of the old offices was even easier -they all had been sitting and smelt a little off but you figured it was the best you could do.

And with a shallow breath, you took the razor and shaved the scruff off, a more familiar face appearing in your mind. The motion so intimate it filled a craving in you that you hadn't yet identified. A pleased feeling that somewhere out there, his family would recognize him.

With a bottle of water and a snack left by his bedside, you stepped out of the room and set to make a defense. You locked every room you could, and at the end of the hallway, you boarded up what you could -grateful for the graffiti warning those of what was ahead.

With a breath, you turned around to head out of the hospital, and the fear that crept up your throat was nothing compared to the itching to escape the vicinity. The stink of the dead overwhelmed your nose, and you weren't even sure it could ever get cleared out. Not after being surrounded so heavily by the smell of rotting flesh.

The blood from the corpses that found themselves in your way wasn't exactly helping.

You half wished you'd brought that horrid-smelling lotion, just for something different.

With a gust of breath, you found yourself out of the hospital with blood-drenched hands and eyes clouded in a fuzzy survival instinct.

Inhaling the air in tremendous gulps, you watched the stranded city -eyes solidly on anything that seemed out of place. Your senses had only tripled, but the sun gently shining on your skin had made your body warm with something familiar.

Something you'd missed. Hope.

With a calming exhale, you turned back to the hospital with the sun in the sky and smiled, "Good luck, Rick Grimes."

A/N: Posting this with a plan of a series, but I guess that depends on the vibes and if people like it! Reblogs and comments are appreciated :))