#I had waaaay too much fun writing this.

[zombiekillerbiceps]

The First, Good Birthday

Note: this was so sweet and romantic to write. /I am ignoring resi6 and it's existence it's supposed to be fluff just work with me here/

Content: 2.3k, 18+, SFW, slight angst, fluff, mentions of drugs (a joint) and alcohol, between re2 and 4, Leon x Reader, gn reader, no y/n.

Reader gives Leon his best birthday yet.

"That is... The saddest fucking story anyone's ever told me," you say, genuinely shocked.

"No, no, it was great cause the socks were really well made," Leon insisted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, Jesus, I wouldn't celebrate my birthday either."

Leon snorted his amusement, raising his eyebrows as if to say I told you so.

What he told you was that he never really got to celebrate his birthday in his foster home. It was usually half-forgotten and rushed, gifted things likely found around the house or picked up at the gas station with the price tag still on it. The best birthday he ever had as a child was his 13th birthday. His foster parents had just gotten a huge donation, which meant he got fun necessities like... An electric tooth brush and good, wool socks.

"What about your best birthday as an adult?" You ask, hoping the story will lighten the mood. You expect some drunken, coming-of-age quest that you can make fun of him for later.

"My 18th birthday," he says. "I aged out of foster care. It was my first day in my own apartment and I went out and got a steak dinner."

"With friends?" You ask.

He doesn't answer.

"Babe, with friends, right?"

Still no answer.

"You understand we have to throw you the best birthday anyone's ever been thrown, right?"

-

When his birthday rolled around, you really did go all out, right from the minute you woke up. You made pancakes using the dinosaur-cookie cutters you were gifted as a gag one year. They were metal, and you definitely burned yourself a few times trying to flip the flap jacks. But, the result was vaguely dinosaur shaped pancakes that were too thick to cook through fully. So, that was... good.

When Leon finally padded out to the kitchen, he found you running your hand under cold water, butter burning in the pan, and a Jurassic Park-level dinosaur pancake massacre as the pancakes lost their shape and broke apart under their own weight.

He rushed over to turn off the stovetop. He pulled the spitting, smoking butter pan off the element and moved towards the sink where you were leaning, quickly avoided disaster, and put the pan on a different element. He was then at your side assessing the burn.

"I'm fine, really, I get worse burns at work," you tell him.

"What were you even trying to do?"

"I don't know, make you a cute breakfast."

His eyes drift over to the graveyard of dismembered dinosaurs.

"Nothing says cute like uh. Shapes."

"They were triceratops," you inform him as matter-of-factly as possible. "And a T-Rex."

He laughs, a surprised bark of laughter that makes the burned hands and messy counters worth it. His eyes squint up and he throws his head back as he laughs. His hair falls out of his face and catches the early afternoon light, illuminating him like a halo, and for a moment you just appreciate how beautiful he is.

"Why don't we just go out for breakfast?" He offers.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," you agree.

The two of you wind up at your favourite local coffee shop. It was a bit expensive, but their lattes truly were something special. Plus, their breakfast sandwiches were better than the under-cooked flour waiting for you at home. You take the morning slowly, sipping coffee on a warm patio, watching the world go by.

"Alright, what time is it?" You ask, stretching your arms above your head. Leon checks his phone.

"Noon," he tells you. "Have something else planned?"

"Not until later," you say. "I thought we could hit that independent book store down the street."

"When you said this was going to be my best birthday ever, I really expected more fanfare," he teased you.

"Can it, or I'm getting the socks."

He laughed with you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you walked. It was a beautiful day out. Bright sun, clear skies, and a cool enough breeze to fend off the heat. Leon smiled easily, his body relaxed for once. Even if it wasn't a big, flashy birthday, you thought that giving him an afternoon where he could just relax with you was good enough.

The bookstore was inside an old house. Doors were taken off hinges so former kitchens and bedrooms could be turned into the Paranormal Mystery and Erotic Thriller sections. Bookcases overflowed with worn paperbacks, books cluttered half-open across tables, and novels spiraled up the staircase until there was hardly enough room to go up and down. A kindly old woman manned the check out counter with her bespeckled face buried in an Agatha Christie mystery. Her wife, a sturdier old woman rearranged a stack of scientific non-fiction. A big golden lab with a white muzzle laid on the porch and happily thumped his tail in greeting, licking Leon's hand as he passed. A fluffy, one-eyed cat stretched out across an open copy of Moby Dick like she was reading it.

You and Leon took your time picking through books, occasionally picking one up and dramatically reading the back or a choice passage to one another. You got to learn a lot about him. He liked poetry books, but pretended he didn't. He hated thrillers. He was interested in architecture, hovering around their section for longer than you anticipated, but you didn't mind. Least surprising was his love of classics.

In the end, you two left the store with only a few books. One by Trevor and Chamberlain titled Eastern European Castles and their Effect on the New American Rich, as well as a copy of Don Quixote, and an annotated pocket poetry book from the 1800's that you pretended not to see. You wouldn't judge him for it, but if he wanted to keep his love of poetry secret, you'd let him.

"This was a really nice birthday," Leon said, kissing your temple as the two of you left the bookstore feeling undeniably a little dusty.

"Was? It's not over yet!"

You insisted on getting some food that you could eat while walking on your way home. Dinner wouldn't be until late. You settled on vegetable kebabs and fresh squeezed lemonade.

"Go shower," you told him almost as soon as you got home.

"Are you planning on joining me?" He asked, hands playfully pulling at your hips. You blushed, giggling while you swatted him away.

"I've got a few more things to do. Hurry up, we don't want to be late."

You cleaned up the kitchen and sent off a few, final texts verifying everyone would be there. You prepped up a few things for dinner, and then since there was still time, you hopped in the shower with Leon for just a few minutes. Not long enough to do anything fun, but you cherished the quiet intimacy of washing his back and shoulders for him. Kissing the freshly clean skin when you were done.

The next hour or so happened in a blur of responding to texts and getting ready and playfully teasing Leon about the upcoming night he knew nothing about. Finally, wearing accidentally matching black button ups, you and Leon left the house. He insisted on taking the motor cycle. And he insisted on taking the scenic route, meaning he showed up late to his own birthday party.

The venue was a semi-upscale whisky bar. It struck a balance between modernism and industrialism, giving it a cool (but kind of snotty) vibe. You led him in by the hand. When the door swung open, you were greeted by a live jazz band and, almost immediately, a cheering chorus of voices.

Most of Leon's coworkers leaned over at the bar, raising their glasses in greeting of him. Leon left you to greet them, grinning and laughing with them immediately. One of them raised a glass to you, and you gave a lazy two finger salute back.

"Hey! Kennedy!" Emerging from the bathroom was an absolute behemoth of a man, Chris Redfield.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Leon cried. The two hugged tightly, patting each other on the back the way men did. Not too many men could make Leon look small, but Chris sure did.

A feminine hand gently touched Leon's back, and you watched him light up for the third time that night as he recognized Claire. Leon wrapped her up in a hug that lifted her off the ground. You smiled to yourself, watching as the three of them immediately get swept up in reminiscing. Leon's coworkers surrounded them, loudly talking and joking amongst themselves.

It was about an hour before another woman joined Leon at the bar, earning a surprised cry from Leon and his coworkers.

"Hunnigan!? Who got you to leave the house?!" One of them asked. Hunnigan shrugged, then tilted her head over to where you sat, half watching the party and half listening to the band. Leon beamed at you from across the room and you instantly got butterflies.

You got a text about twenty minutes later.

Meet us outside.

You approached the crowd to take Leon by the hand. He immediately turned and kissed you so passionately it took your breath away. You stepped away from him to a wave of oooooohs. In front of all his friends? Embarassing. And flattering.

"One more present," you tell him. He looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

"What more could you possibly give me?"

"Well, Hunnigan is the one that pulled this one together. You owe her big time. C'mon." You led him outside by the hand.

The cool night air was a welcome reprieve. You didn't realize how warm the bar was until you stepped into the night. Waiting outside was a nameless suit in front of a rich black car. He held a letter.

You gestured for Leon to take it. He did, cautiously, his eyes quickly serious and observant. You didn't miss how his hand hovered over his empty hip. You wondered if he was even aware of doing it. When he took the letter, the suit got back into the car and they drove off.

Leon read the letter. Then again. Then again. Tears started to well in his eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Babe, I'm so sorry, I thought it would be a nice-" he cut you off with a crushing hug. He buried his face into your shoulder and held you until your hands went numb.

"I don't know how you pulled this off," he said. "But, thank you."

You kissed him on the cheek and separated yourself from him.

"Why don't I go get Claire?" You offered. He smiled at you, and you took that as good enough.

You went back inside to get Claire. Leon showed her the letter, and her eyes widened, looking between it and Leon in disbelief.

"A letter from Sherry?" She asked. Leon nodded, and you headed back inside to let the two have a private moment.

You took the opportunity to get to know Leon's friends. Hunnigan complained about his attitude, his friends told embarrassing stories about him, and Chris alternated between praising Leon and solidifying some sibling-like rivalry between them.

Leon and Claire eventually came back in smelling like good weed. You assumed Claire brought a joint with her, as she was known to do at parties. All of you drank and chatted and joked. Laughter came often and in great, thunderous roars. At one point Leon dragged you onto the dancefloor, and when he got tired, Claire happily took his place.

-

Chris received a text from Jill and had to excuse himself to "tend to the missus." His leaving signaled the beginning of the end, and slowly the party thinned out until it was just you and Leon again. You two decided to walk home, too intoxicated to drive.

You two chatted the whole way home, gossiping about this person and that event. Leon was practically bursting with energy. His stomach growled and you had to soothe him with promises of one last present.

"Hey," he stopped in front of the door of your shared home. He took your face in his hands, gratitude plain on his face. "Thank you for tonight. Especially Sherry's letter, I have no idea how you-"

"Again, Hunnigan. I think I owe her a life debt now."

"You." Leon insisted. "You had the idea. You made it happen. You made everything happen tonight, and I don't know how to thank you."

"It's a birthday party, you don't have to thank me."

He kissed you, slow and gentle. He held you close in his arms while he did. You felt how much he loved you then, maybe more than any other kiss he'd ever given you. Eventually he pulled away, the affection in the softness of his gaze making him look like a younger, more hopeful man.

"One more present," you insisted.

You lead him inside the house and set him up in front of the TV while you cooked dinner. It went off without any of the prior disasters, luckily. Then you set up the table with the fanciest tableware you had. When you called Leon in, he could only chuckle in disbelief.

"One fancy steak dinner for one Monsieur Kennedy," you announced with quiet bravado, pouring a glass of Malbec.

He sat down at one end. You sat at the other. The two of you were starving and the meal went down pretty quickly, but not unsavoured. When you were done, Leon took your hand in his.

"A nice steak dinner shared with the love of your life," you said, gesturing with your free hand. The dying candle light warmed Leon's complexion, capturing his blonde hair in an orange glow. The flame danced in his blue eyes. He looked at you with nothing but love and appreciation. He looked beautiful. "Happy 25th birthday, my love."

-

[and-i-like-youuu]

Queerness and I Want To Hold Your Hand

Lately, I've been thinking about the potential queer themes in I Want To Hold Your Hand. The only reason I started thinking about it was because of this quote I saw on one of amoralto's posts where John Lennon said:

"It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?"

— John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (1972)

There's so much to unpack from this quote, but I'm going to focus on the last bit of it which really caught my attention. Whilst talking about his creative and romantic relationship with Yoko, John consistently compared it to the kind of creative relationship he had with male artists and how his relationship with her was a lot like the relationships he had had with other male artists except that he was allowed to be in love with her.

If we deconstruct the quote and bullet point each of the qualities he listed as positives with his relationship with Yoko this is what we get:

"A best friend who can hold you without..." I don't want to speak for John or twist his words, but I think the word "fear" or "disgust" can fit very naturally at the end of that thought. And while he doesn't finish that thought, it's pretty clear where he was going with that because he cuts himself off by claiming "I mean, I'm not a homosexual."

"An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy..." My take on the "same energy" means same wave-length or same creative chemistry. Or, his equal.

"It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know?" as opposed to him and other male artists.

"just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist"

"Joint inspiration"

"And then we can hold hands too, right?"

If we take away any sense of pronouns and just look at the way John looks at the kind of creative/romantic partnership he valued so much, he placed a lot of emphasis on the creative energy of the relationship as well as the physical aspect of that kind of relationship. There's this sense that he has had a relationship a lot like the one he had with Yoko except that he had wanted a lot of romantic things he could not have because the other artist was male. But with Yoko, he could have it all because she’s a woman.

And that last bit where John said he could hold hands with Yoko struck me as a bit of an odd example to give, but then when I remembered I'm queer I was like OH.

Because, in the heteronormativity of back then, wouldn't a man and woman holding hands be okay? It would've just seem perfectly natural. But why would he have phrased it like a question: "And then we can hold hands too, right?" unless he had, at one point, thought of the alternative: holding hands with another man.

Just so it doesn't seem like I'm beating around the bush here, I think John was thinking about Paul in that entire quote. Which then leads me onto the song I Want To Hold Your Hand.

"We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball. Like in ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’, I remember when we got the chord that made the song. We were in Jane Asher’s house, downstairs in the cellar playing on the piano at the same time. And we had, ‘Oh you-u-u… got that something…’ And Paul hits this chord and I turn to him and say, ‘That’s it!’ I said, ‘Do that again!’ In those days, we really used to absolutely write like that – both playing into each other’s nose."

John Lennon, 1980 All We Are Saying, David Sheff

I included the above quote because it exemplified the kinds of qualities John liked in a creative/romantic partner. He didn't say it directly, but based off that quote you could tell John thought he and Paul had a lot of creative energy together, "We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball." You could tell that songwriting with Paul was an incredibly intimate and special activity with him. And he emphasized their closeness again at the end of that quote when he said, "In those days, we really used to absolutely write like that---both playing into each other's nose." (Okay. They totally kissed ahfjkdhas I'm only joking...but am I?).

As I said, there's a sense of physical closeness to his description, but if you'll notice, there's no actual touching involved. Just a closeness that borders on an invasion of one’s space. "Eyeball-to-eyeball" and "into each other's noses." And then, the "one-on-one," this was something only they did with each other. All their focus on each other.

So, compared with the quote about Yoko about how John could have all that physical and open affection with her. I believe this quote exemplifies John's desire to have had more with Paul.

Okay, so I keep saying I'm going to talk about the song, and I am! But first, some context. I Want To Hold Your Hand was written in 1963; homosexuality remained illegal until 1967 in England. Given that backdrop, if John had had feelings for Paul he wouldn’t have been able to act on them even if he wanted to. Assuming, that is, he was aware of his feelings.

So, to the song!

This was a song both of them wrote together; therefore, it’s hard to say who wrote what lyrics, but I’d like to look at it with a queer lens.

If you look at the lyrics as a whole, there are no pronouns. The song is directed at “you.” Which, in general, is brilliant because it means it could be anyone. Fans could imagine it was them they were singing about or they could imagine someone they wanted to hold hands with too. And also when you think about how John and Paul wrote it “eyeball-to-eyeball” and “into each others noses” … well. It could very well be a confession disguised as a song.

The “let me hold your hand” is one or both of them asking for permission to hold hands. Given the backdrop of criminalized homosexuality, an act like that would’ve been considered “gross indecency” and punishable by law. And to sing that in front of millions? Everyone would’ve assumed they were singing about a vague/general “you,” but if John for instance had had Paul in mind, it would’ve been like asking him in front of the whole audience, the whole world, for permission to hold hands with him. Alongside that it also would’ve been like asking for the audience’s permission to do it as well, in a way. Because the only thing that stopped him from doing that or asking that, I’m sure, were the laws and the homophobia of the time. So, it very well could’ve been let me hold his hand.

The “I wanna hold your hand” is the same as the above except it’s a confession not a request. I want to do this, but the I cant goes unsaid. Which begs the question of why? If we look at it from a hetero perspective, the likely explanation would be “oh, because she doesn’t feel the same way” or “she doesn’t know his feelings” or whatever. But from a queer lens, well, we know why.

Given what John said about his thoughts about creative/romantic partners and how much he valued physical closeness, the lines “And when I touch you / I feel happy inside” serve as a reflection of that. Which I can’t help but recall when Paul said John told him:

So, with that lyric, the act of touch would’ve felt especially significant during that time especially since physical affection between men, even if it was platonic, would’ve been seen as taboo. But the “happy inside” is a private feeling, which is being confessed about in the song.

In queer literature, there are often themes of “hiding” to be found. So, I find the inclusion of the lyric “I can’t hide” very interesting. Because the song itself is the opposite of hiding, in a way. It was putting feelings out there without outing oneself.

In a nutshell, I believe I Want To Hold Your Hand is a veiled confessional love song with queer connotations.

[lovely-v]

I don’t have an ao3 account so I couldn’t comment lol but I just read your fic a second cup of coffee and oh my god it was amazing???? Your writing style is so smooth!! Exact right amount of description!! Plus the lil references to events in lotr???!! But ESPECIALLY everyone’s characterization!!! 😩😍😭 beautiful!!!! Sorry this sounds unhinged it’s 2 am and I’m a lil sleep deprived!

Ohhh thank you so much for taking the time to come tell me you liked it! That fic was one of the ones I was most unsure about just because it was my first ever attempt at writing a coffeeshop au and I still am not sure I’m happy with how it turned out 😭 but I’m so glad u enjoyed it <3 <3 that brings me so much joy. I always love an unhinged 2 am message. I carry them in my heart 🥺🧡

[apocketfullofmuses]

(( I decided to rewatch all the Twi/light movies, and I'm done now but like, I know people (sometimes rightly) shit on them and the books, but I really miss the feels I had back then. ))

[adams-angels]

Plssssass pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls do a adam x reader smut where adam is in heat or anything plssssssss

I had WAAAAY too much fun writing this one 🤭 I was originally gonna do another angel s/o but where's the fun in that? I spiced this up with a sinner s/o

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Heat

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

Extermination day. Once again. Yaaay! You hid in your apartment and waited. You knew he was coming. He was always coming.

You don't know why, but a couple years ago you were spared by Adam. Ever since then he always comes to check on you. Makes sure you're still alive. He says it's because it's funny watching you get pissed off at every little thing. Every little thing being his annoying ass.

You hear the knock at the door. It's the secret knock Adam made up so you'd know it was him. But this knock was rushed. Desperate almost. It sent a cold chill down your spine. It's not that you like Adam. You just don't want anything to happen to him and would be sad if he stops visiting but you don't LIKE him.

You quickly rush to the door, checking the peephole and there he was. Looking different? You unlocked the many bolts on your apartment door and let him in. He pushed himself past you, "what's up sinner tits?" Dumb name. You shut your door and lock it back up. "Hello, Adam." You look over at him and he looks restless. "You okay?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, whatever." He scratched his arm like he was a drug addict. Itching for his next hit.

Your mind raced. What if the exorcists know he's been visiting me? What if he has to kill me? What if- you're snapped out of your thoughts. "Stop overthinking. You do that too much." He groaned. "Okay?" You walk over to him, his body tenses. "Why are you acting weird?" His eyes widen, he takes a couple steps back. "M-me? Weird?! Ha! That's- that's fucking rich coming from you!"

Okay, something up. That stutter screamed something was up. You put your hands on your waist stepping closer to him, causing him to step back. You ended up cornering him once he was stopped by the wall. "what the hell is up with you, Adam. Tell me, right now!"

"I need you." He whined. You don't know if it was the fact he had no where else to go, or you were being quite demanding but you weren't expecting him to whine like that. But God, did it make you feel powerful. This devine being, whining like a whore. "Excuse me?"

"fuck, I need you, y/n. Please?" He pleaded. "Jesus, it's like you're a fucking heat." You joked but his whimper told you everything. "Noooo, fucking way. Do you- are you in heat?" You laugh at him. "Don't fucking laugh!" He grabs your wrist and spins you around, pinning you to the wall.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

"I need to fuck you. I don't want to. But I need to. I can't stop thinking about you. No one else is working, so please." He begged, never in your afterlife did you think you'd see Adam begging for you. But here you are. In your apartment, Adam pleading with you. "I'll do it." He lit up. "On one condition." He groaned his forehead resting on yours. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, babe."

You look him in his LED eyes, "mask off." He hesitated, removing his head from yours to get a full look at your expression. "What? Why?" He asked, his tone would tell you he was annoyed by the request but inside he was scared. What if you changed your mind once you saw his actual face. "Because I like to look at the person who's going to fuck me." He whines, he's desperate right now, he needs you. He reaches for his mask, hesitates before taking it off.

He looked gorgeous, stunning, and surprisingly embarrassed. "You so-" he couldn't wait any longer, his lips crashed into yours, his tongue explored your mouth. There was no negotiation on who was dominating the situation.

His hands caressed your body starting at your neck tracing down to your waist before getting to your legs, he lifts you up with ease. Sloppily kissing you, as he takes you to the nearest surface, your side table. Sitting you on top of it, knocking off a couple of books, a small plant and a picture frame among other things.

He releases your lips to move on to your jawline then neck, covering you in marks. His marks. You can't help but moan at the sensation. His hands head straight to your pants, gaining access to your intimate area. Once your pants are off he whips off his robe and lifts you up from the side table. Lining up with your entrance. His eyes full of lust for you. He watched your face as he slid you onto his cock. It was perfect, dickmaster is right. It was like he cock was made to fit you. He didn't give much time for you to enjoy the fit before he started thrusting into you.

His arms wrapped around your back holding you close to his body. His teeth sinked into your neck, he moaned into your skin. Your hands found their way to the back and top of his head, tugging at his brown locks. His wings burst out, twitching and trembling as he buries his cock deep inside you. Filling you fully with his member, hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. "Fuck.. so good y/n" he mumbles into your neck. "So tight.."

His hips stuttered, he released your neck and went back to your lips, feeling you moan into his mouth sent him over the edge as he finished inside of you. His wings fell to the floor and you both crashed into the sideboard, Adam leaning on you for support. "Fuck.. bitch, who knew you'd feel so good." "Who knew you liked dirty sinners." You panted. "Don't spoil it."

[ohsjy]

Hey can i have request of enhypen and the lipstick stain trend on tiktok (gf kissing bf face all over).

your lips 〰 enhypen

sum lipstick stain with enhypen!! pairing bf!enha x reader genre fluff warnings kissing!! note thank you for requesting this anon!! i had fun creating scenes with this prompt!! i hope it's good enough :) ( not proofread ) ( archive )

001 lee heeseung

you had perfect idea. heeseung loved your kisses but you wondered if he would ever get tired of them. so you rushed to your bedroom where he was writing something in his journal. you sat next to him and then began the kissing!! you kissed his cheek first, then his nose, eyes, forehead, and so on. heeseung was confused, wondering why you were doing it. he giggled when you pecked his temples and went down to his lips. he grabbed your cheeks, stopping you for a moment. 'what are you doing?' he asked, very confused. 'loving you'

002 park jongseong

jay had his back towards you while he was cooking your favorite dish. you suddenly wanted to show him some love so you walked to him and pecked his cheek. at first it was just a token of your love but then you got an even better idea. you started kissing his cheek over and over. jay smiled but then suddenly as you went to kiss his cheek again he turned to kiss your lips instead. you blushed and lightly smacked his shoulder. 'when i finish cooking we can kiss more.' and he sent you off with a wink

003 sim jaeyun

jake was humming a song while folding the clothes. you had seen a trend on tiktok of kissing your boyfriend all over his face so you decided to do it. you ran up to him and started attacking him in kisses. one kiss here one kiss there. jakes face was a deep shade of red but little did you know you were about to be attacked as well. jake held your face in his hand and started kissing you everywhere causing you to be the one who was flustered. lipstick smothered on both your faces as you might've just showered each other in love.

004 park sunghoon

sunghoon was busy fixing his hair. he had washed it earlier and now he was trying to fix it up. he wanted to look good for you though he'd never tell you that. the bathroom door was open so you walked in. his eyes met yours through the mirror and he gave you a soft smile. little did he know you were about to attack him. in kisses ofc!! you started kissing his lips first before moving around his face. sunghoon stood still, shocked at how fast his heart was beating. you continued kissing him, chuckling to yourself at how flustered he got. you stopped shortly after, a smile peeking from your lips. sunghoon couldn't meet your eyes he was waaaay too flustered. when he looked in the mirror he noticed light lipstick stains on his face, making he fluster even more.

005 kim sunoo

sunoo was spraying his perfume on before getting ready to go shopping. you were gonna stay home and clean since you had no intention to go shopping with sunoo. he begged you but you hadn't felt good so you declined. sunoo walked to the living room to give you a kiss before you left but instead he got multiple kisses. ones on his cheek, ones on his lips, nose, and jaw. he stared at you for a little before smiling. 'i love you too'

006 yang jungwon

jungwon had made a mistake. he bought you this rosy lipstick to which he thought you would look good in. which you did but when he woke up from his deep slumber he was shocked. he had walked to the restroom to freshen up a bit when he saw his face. it was covered in red as you kissed him everywhere. he stared at himself for a few minutes before silently gushing at how much he loves you.

007 nishimura riki

ohh riki. he didn't know what was coming he way. he got home from a long day and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. he laid on top of you, exhausted. all he wanted to do was rest but he was gonna get the opposite of that. instead, you cupped his cheeks and began kissing his face softly. riki felt comfortable with your kisses, even falling asleep. but when he heard you giggling he opened his eyes. he noticed you had lipstick on which only meant one thing.

© i0912

[scekrex]

I’ve had this idea for a while and I like your writing so I figured Id ask you! If you don’t like it, please feel free to ignore!! Can we get Lucifer’s reaction to sinner!Adam being with someone who seems to genuinely love and care for him. I always kinda saw Lilith and Eve as people who wasn’t into the idea of being with Adam in a serious manner (Lilith a lot more than Eve) which is why they turned to Lucifer.

I just find the idea of Lucifer seeing someone genuinely care for Adam more than any of Adam’s past lovers really fun. Like, would he be low-key jealous? Would he be happy for Adam (as much as he definitely would not admit it)

I also would find it funny of what Lucifer would think to Adam dating a guy. The first man, progenitor of humanity, Mr. everyone came from these nuts himself, discovering he’s bi waaaay too late into his after-life, and after he becomes a SINNER no less! I can’t help but chuckle about it

Have a nice rest of your day!! ❤️❤️

Okay so this turned into some Adam x male!reader n Lucifer being jealous over reader. Basically one-sided adamsapple. Hope you enjoy, xoxo/p

Part 2

Maybe you can call me Eve, standing here under the forbidden tree

pairing: one-sided adamsapple/Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

It was a little weird, that the devil had to admit, it was a little weird to see Adam so happy, so relaxed, so lovingly. Ever since the former angel had arrived in hell after Alastor's little demon girl friend had ended him he had been even worse than before. He had constantly insulted the residents of the hotel, whenever there had been the possibility to pick a fight with Charlie, Adam had done exactly that.

And it made Lucifer feel strange.

Adam was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him - chest to chest - his guitar was gently placed on your back as he played for you. Has Adam ever played for anyone but himself? Lucifer certainly didn't think so. Sure, he had played concerts in heaven, but he had mainly played for himself, for his own entertainment, so that people listened to him had just been a nice bonus. But actively played for someone? No.

And your curious, loving eyes were watching his every move, an adoring smile was on your lips and Lucifer's heart felt heavy at the view. The thought was small but it bloomed in him, the thought that this could have been him, that he could be the one laying on Adam's chest while the first man played for Lucifer instead of a random sinner. It wasn't fair, but Lucifer had already known that. Life - or afterlife - never played fair. Never.

“Dad?” Charlie's soft voice made him tear his eyes from the scene, her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. “Are you-” she interrupted herself as soon as she spotted you and Adam and a small sigh escaped her.

Adam played the last chord and then proudly looked down on you, a cocky smile on his lips as you placed a small kiss on his stubbled chin. One of your hands moved to ruffle through his hair and Lucifer suddenly remembered Eden, back when it had been just Adam. Just him and Adam. Those times were long gone though, and the devil knew it, he knew that what they had back then would never return, especially now that Adam had you.

He was thankful that Adam had finally found someone, that he wasn't feeling as miserable anymore and that he actually seemed to try and redeem himself. And yet Lucifer couldn't bring himself to be happy for the first man, not when the person laying on his chest was you instead of him.

The fact that Adam was dating a guy didn't make it easier to deal with though. If you were a girl it would be different for Lucifer, that way he could trick his brain into believing that Adam was straight, that he had no chance anyway. But you weren't a girl and Adam wasn't straight. The possibility had been there, the possibility had been right in his damn hands back in Eden. The bond he and Adam had back then had been special, it had been a connection Lucifer had never felt again in that way. Yet Adam had always denied being queer once his soul arrived in heaven. The image of him kissing your forehead so softly however shed new light on it, Adam didn't deny being bi anymore, he had grown comfortable with it actually. The credit for that went to Angel Dust.

Why you? Why not him? That's a thought that constantly occupied Lucifer's mind. What did you have that he hadn't? The devil didn't know.

Charlie's hand squeezed his shoulder apologetic, she knew. Of course she knew, Lucifer had told her himself after all. He had told her about Eden, back when Adam had been the sweetest creation of God's, right after ducks, that was. A thing Adam had named. Adam had named most of the things, if Lucifer was being honest with himself, it had been his job after all. But when Adam had named ducks, Lucifer had been there, he had been with Adam when the first man had spotted a duck for the first time.

Oh how bittersweet that tasted now.

You looked over, spotting the devil and his daughter as you happily waved them over, Adam simply rolled his eyes in annoyance but remained quiet.

Lucifer tensed up, Charlie however led him over to the two of you.

Oh fuck him.

[bluemoonwolf17]

Lucifer damn! I have gone down a rabbit hole of DP x DC Au's, and no. I'm not mad about this! (OK, that's a tiny lie. I have three docs of TFP fandom that I need to finish) But anyway, I've had this idea, and yes, imma type it out since I have nothin' better to do anyway.

Also, this was loosely inspired by this amazin' writer Space-Dreams-World

And this is the thin' that inspired my dumbass to write Here!

Oh, and before I forget, I don't precisely remember how the comics go, so I'll probably just pull stuff outta my ass and call it a day (But hey, that's what Au's are for), but if it bothers you sorry, there's waaaay too much Batman lore and don't get me started on the Re-boots!

(I hope I didn't butcher your original idea too much, but I did say your writings loosely inspired this!)

___________

Danny, after comin' out to his parents that he's Phantom, didn't go too hot, but hey! he has multiple plans! He just didn't want to use this one...After all, who wants to live in a new dimension? He's also glad that he waited until he turned twenty-one so that he could actually leave.

Thanks to Sam siphonin' money outta her parent's money for him for years and Tucker makin' a new identity for him, a bonus is that if he went to a different dimension, it still worked!

In the end, it's better than bein' on a table in the GIW labs after his Mom turned him to said government, But it's actually not that bad. He met a cool guy named Thomas Wayne, who is really chill (Also not bad-lookin). He's been In this world for probably three years now.

He met Thomas a couple of months after he dropped into this world and set up his new name, Daniel (Danny) Nightingale. He even met his wife, Martha Wayne, And he moved into their place two years ago after he had a break-in. And it's been goin' great at this point. He's probably bein' healed hostage by both Waynes and Alfred. He's cool with it, tho!

They were even cool with him bein' a half-ghost and the King of the infinite realms, and why they found out? It was Skulker's fault. I mean, come on, who comes in at dinner and claims that he wants your pelt on his wall...Oh, wait! Skullker did. Yeah, it wasn't fun explainin' that it's just how he greets Danny after all these years and that he just wanted to have a friendly spar.

Then, one day, the Waynes learned somethin' that broke Danny's heart. Martha and Thomas were havin' a hard time gettin' pregnant they later learned that it was because Thomas was infertile.

One day, Both Martha and Thomas asked him a favor. They asked if he would be okay with helpin' them get pregnant. He's not gonna lie. It was a shocker, but he understands that he does look like Thomas a bit, and people have even called them brothers.

It also helped him out when he told them that he didn't mind helpin' them out, and since they were on the topic, he said to them that he had a little crush on both of them. They both blushed red as a tomato and told him they felt the same. They didn't really understand how it worked.

Yes, he did explain that more than one person could be in a relationship that it was called Polyamory and that he has experience with it. He dated a girl and a guy simultaneously before leaving his universe, and it worked out in the end. He started to date both of the Waynes, and Martha got pregnant with a baby boy!

All three of them were over the moon with that news, and after baby Bruce was born, both Thomas and Martha decided that he was a Wayne now, so officially, he's now Danny Nightingale-Wayne, but to outsiders, he's still just Nightingale.

Even then, the only person who knows is Alfred. When Bruce was learnin' to talk and ended up callin' him Da, he told them he was fine just bein' Bruce's Godfather or uncle. That didn't go well, so Danny is Pa, and Thomas is Dad.

Bruce didn't understand why he couldn't call Danny Pa out in public or around friends until Danny sat him down and explained that it was a secret that he was his Pa and to the world, he was just his Godfather and if anyone knew that he's was his Pa it could be bad for the family.

After the talk, Danny somewhat made a game out of it that Bruce was a super secret spy and that it was his job to protect the family (I haven't really thought of this, but I thought it would be cute) And Bruce did keep it a secret until his Mom and Dad where killed.

Danny was supposed to go with them to the movies until the Observants demanded that he return to the infinite realms for a council meetin'. While Danny was tryin' not to freeze every observant in the room for bein' straight up annoyin', he heard Bruce scream for his Mom and Dad. He then listened to his pained hiccups for his Pa to come and help them.

Danny froze. The room he was in got much colder as his core demanded him to protect his son, and he was also cryin' for his lover's death. Ice shards spread out in the room, makin' the occupants yell out in shock at what their King had done. Danny then stood up, and with a protective/pained growl, he tore open a portal and went to his son, leavin' the room in chaos.

He couldn't stop the pained whimpers from his mouth when he got there. His son, his little Galaxy, was cryin' over his parent's bodies. Danny's brightest Nebulas, his lifeline after he left his old home, was dead. Without a second thought, Danny de-transformed and quickly grabbed Bruce and held him close.

Bruce quickly grabbed onto his Pa and bawled his eyes out, sayin' how he was sorry that he couldn't save them, how he tried to protect them, how his shield failed, and that he couldn't heal them as Danny taught him.

(I think Bruce, while not bein' as ghostly as Danny, still could do more than the average liminal could. He would have a small ghost core. So he could technically make shields, and I like to think that Danny learned how to push his rapid healin' onto others and started to teach Bruce when he started to show signs of bein' a bit ghostly)

Danny shushed him and told him that he tried his best and that was all that mattered while havin' tears drip down his face. That was how the police found the two Danny sittin' on his knees while huggin' the cryin' Bruce into his chest, tryin' to hide the poor boy from the world.

Most people did accuse Danny of killin' the two until Bruce screamed at them, sayin' that his Godfather loved his parents and that he would rather hurt himself than harm his parents. Alfred also spoke up, sayin' that Danny has never tried to harm the Waynes and even pushed them out of the way if anythin' harmful ever came close to the family.

They dropped the accusation a week later after the police did indeed find out that Danny was nowhere near the scene of the crime, that he was at the airport gettin' back from somewhere, and that the only reason why Danny found them was because Thomas sent him an SOS and their location. (He's grateful that Tucker taught him how to hack)

After everythin' calmed down and Danny had full custody of Bruce, he spent most of his time in the manor with Bruce and Alfred, only goin' to the realms if he absolutely had to, and he started to teach Bruce more about his ghostly side per Bruce's request.

Bruce took more to the sneaky part of the ghost side. Danny also suspected that Bruce might have a shadow core or somethin' related to darkness. Bruce did have fun. He Bruce would try and sneak up on his Pa and Alfred. Danny suspected Alfred knew when Bruce was around and tryin' to get a drop on him. It wouldn't surprise Danny if it were true.

Everythin' was as normal as could be...Until Bruce went missin', Danny almost destroyed the manor with ice. Alfred did manage to calm him down after a while. Danny was heartbroken that he couldn't find anythin' for him or Alfred, but he could tell that Bruce was fine.

About a week after Bruce disappeared, he had no choice but to go back to the infinite realms for short to long periods of time as the Obervents demanded since his son disappeared and since Danny knew that he was safe somewhere in the dimension.

Yeah, he wasn't really pleased with that demand, but then again, messin' with those floatin' eyeballs bastards is good, but messin' with them durin' a meetin'? Even better, and hey, at least he got his frustration out.

At this point, it was probably a good couple of years since Bruce disappeared, and he did have a lot of fun pissin' off the Observents durin' one of the Obervent's "informative" meetings when he felt a pull on his core. Oh? A summon? It's been ages since the last.

When he let himself get pulled toward his "summoner" (and probably pissin' off the eyeball bastards even more), he found himself in a room with a summonin' circle under him, one that he noted didn't bind him just summoned him. He looked around the room and noticed that it had windows that showed space.

Before he would let himself delve into one of his obsessions, he looked down and almost groaned out when he saw a blond man with a trench coat. Great...John Constantine, the man who sold his soul to every damn thin' in the infinite realms, has summoned him? Mann, he already has 75% of his soul.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say somethin' whitty towards the man, he felt somethin'. He felt his core try and pull him towards somethin'. Danny moved his eyes from the blondie and saw somethin' black move more into the shadows.

Danny narrowed his eyes. That action was so familiar to Danny. He then raised his hand and snapped his finger, lightin' up the room he was in with green flames. He heard some alarmed shouts and a curse from the blondie, but he paid no attention to them. His eyes were on the man in the black cowl.

The man noticeably stiffened, and a sheepish smile spread on his face. What? It couldn't be. Danny floated down to the ground and walked over to the man. He could tell that the man was fidgetin' more the closer he got to him until Danny stood before him. The man was a bit shorter than him, but then again, he was 8 feet tall in this form and 7 feet in his human one.

He could feel the emotions comin' off of him: anxiety, family, and happiness. Danny felt his eyes whidden and a lump in his throat form it was! He felt water buildin' up in the corners of his eyes. He then spoke out two words he thought he might never hear again.

"Little Galaxy?" he crocked out. The man stiffened for a second, then relaxed. "Yeah, it's me, Pa," Bruse said with a smile, his voice crackin' a little. Oh, ancients! His son! he found his son, his little Galaxy.

Danny fell to his knees, grabbed Bruce, and hugged him just like he would when Bruce was younger. Bruce quickly wrapped his arms around Danny and curled into his chest.

"Oh, my little Galaxy! Where have you been!? And why in the realms would you just disappear like that! You gave me and Mister A a heart attack!" Danny scolded.

He could feel the guilt off of Bruce in waves. "I'm sorry, Pa, I just-" Danny sighed when Bruce couldn't finish his sentence. Danny understood he wanted to get revenge for his Mom and Dad. He truly understood. After all, he tried to find the person but never could finish findin' them before the council called on him.

Danny was about to speak before a throat clearin' got his attention. He looked over to the sound and saw a woman. By the looks of it, she was an Amazonian, and right next to her was a man with an S on his chest, a Kryptonian? They looked calm, but he could see the subtle way they held themselves. They were goin' to attack if they saw him as a threat.

Danny smiled. It seemed that Bruce got himself some good friends...? that's not the correct term, so he looked a bit closer at the two. He then promptly lost his shit. His laugh startled everyone. When he finally calmed down, he turned to his son, wiggled his eyebrows, and tilted his head towards the two somewhat behind him.

Bruce coughed into his fist, and Danny would bet that he was blushing from the tip of his ears down to his neck. Subtley nodded his head. Danny snorted, then stood up and brought Bruce to his side. Yeah, he's not lettin' his son go any time soon, thank you very much! "Ahem, please forgive my rudeness." Danny tilted his head down a bit towards the two.

Blondie decided to speak up. "What in the blood hell?" Danny snorted at the man. "Ah, again, forgive. I haven't seen this kid in a while," he said to the room.

Bruce coughed into his hand. Everyone turned their heads towards him, "Justice League, If I may, this is Phantom or, as I like to call him, Pa." Danny tried not to laugh. Bruce seemed a little troublemaker even though he was all grown up.

Everyone in the room froze until the Kryptonian spoke up. "Batman, what the hell? I thought that...." he questioned, then trailed off at the end. Danny snorted Batman? Oh, he's totally bringin' that up soon, but first...

Danny put a hand to his core and fanned hurt. "Oh, the pain! My son never told his friends about me? I'm betrayed!" he floated onto his back, playin' hurt.

The woman snorted into her hand, and Bruce groaned quietly. "Oh, this makes so much sense now," Constantine muttered. While still on his back, Danny raised an eyebrow and then looked toward Bruce. The Man subtly tilted his head to show that he also had no clue what the man in the trench coat meant.

"What is the supposed to mean, Constantine?" the Amazonian woman spoke to the man.

Blondie just sighed and took a flask out of his pocket and took a large gulp, then spoke, "I thought that you could tell Bats has more... Supernatural tendencies, so it makes sense if Bats grew up around the King of ghosts." he told the League "I'm just more curious how he met him" Constantine sighed.

"How he/I met him/me? We met when I/he was born!" Danny and Bruse spoke at once.

Constantine spat his drink out. "Wait, what!?... Y'know what, never mind, So KIng Phantom knew Bat's parents then when he was born became a liminal, " Constantine muttered. Danny then righted himself and wrapped his arm around Bruce once more.

"Actually, you're wrong, Galxay here is part ghost!" Danny informed the League with a Smile, Showin' too much inhuman teeth. After some silence, the woman spoke up. "If I may, what does that mean, your Highness?" she spoke calmly.

"Ah, please just call me Phantom! It also means that Galaxy is 3/4 Part ghost? Maybe a bit more? He does feel a bit different than the last time I saw him, but then again, his core was still growin'," he said, trailin’ off at the end.

Constantine threw his hands up in the air and then froze. He slowly looked at the two. "Wait...Bats, does that mean that Phantom is your Birth father?" Constantine asked with his hands twitchin' like they wanted to grab somethin'.

Every head turned towards Batman and Danny, and the two looked at each other and then at the Leauge, "Yes," they spoke as one. "HOW!?" most of the League shouted. Danny shrugged. "Eh, this was before I dated' both his parents. We learned his other Dad was infertile, and that was sort of the openin' that we needed to explain that we three liked each other. Ultimately, it worked out fine, so a win is a win!".

The League turned their heads to Batman and said the man nodded yes, that what came out of the ghost King's mouth was true.

That day, the Justice League was out of order and needed a proper reboot, and yes, Danny did indeed have the time of his un-dead life. Afterward, he even got to meet his son's lovers.

While the four were together, Danny brought up that poly and vigilantism must run in the family or somethin' so off-handedly that it had Clark and Diana laughin'. Bruce just grumbled at his Pa.

After that shit show of a reunion, Bruce took Danny back to the manor. He caught up with Alfred, and they made a plan that would remind Bruce that if he ever disappeared again and scared the shit out of them again, he was goin' to regret it. Bruce havin' no clue as to what they were talkin' about and frankly didn't want to know promised himself never to piss off his two parents again.

(Bruce still sees Alfred as a father figure. Danny did an excellent job bein' home every day, but sometimes the Observents won in their crusade.

They demanded that Danny be present in their meetings at least once a week, and of course, they could and would go on for days about their topic, even if it was a stupid one, just to keep him there.

And if some of them got put on ice just by suggestin' that he left his son to the mortals to be raised, it was no one's business but Danny's.)

__________

Okay, so this was supposed to be a bit longer, and it would have Danny meetin' Dick and then later Jason, but I decided to split it in half-ish, and if the people want to see the rest of my crappy writin', then I might share it.

I also mainly wanted to get this out and see how it went cause I am very happy with how most of this turned out. I am also runnin' out of motivation so~ but hey, I hoped you liked it!

Part 2 to this shit show!

[baldval]

idk if u like writing him so if u don’t feel free to ignore!! but picture this, adam with a higher up reader with high authority that kinda acts like beelzebub?? like adam sees them for the first time and expects them to be all wholesome and kind but she’s actually just a hardcore party gal! which kinda matches his frat boy persona too🌚 and maybe she even resembles bee a bit? UP TO U! i just love ur writing and thought of this

-🎞️ anon

ALTITUDE!₊˚⊹♡

characters: adam x gn!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, mentions of one night stands

A/N: i'm sorry if i failed you in the whole party-fun!reader aspect i just went on a different direction and when i realised i like this a bit too much. hope you like it too anon!!!!! 🫶

You weren’t ever too sure about Adam. He just seemed a bit problematic, loud, interruptive, and he never took things seriously. Not that you were the chillest person on heaven, quite the opposite, but still, there was something about Adam that threw you off. You felt like that was all a faced. You knew that, when he wanted to, he could be kind, and was actually very enthusiastic regarding his job at heaven. Not that he would ever knowingly admit it. So when Sera partnered you two for a, quite important job, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to feel. At first you thought he might try to run the shop by not letting you contribute any of your ideas. He thought you were a tightass that would try to make everything boring (exactly what he said to Lute).

However, both of you were surprised once time went on, and you got to know each-other better. He realised you were actually quite fun, he might even say careless. He found himself in shock, and partially offended, when he realised you actually hosted parties every few weeks. You found out that he was deeply misunderstood. And actually really cute and charming. And you also promised to invite him to your next party, once you had finished the long task Sera had appointed you.

"Adam? Will you read that to me again?" You sat cross legged on the carpeted floor of Adam’s basement, chewing on the end of your click pen. Adam was too busy trying (and failing) to get basketballs on a net at the top of his wall to notice you’d called out to him. Dropping the pencil down on your notebook, you let out a frustrated sigh, standing to get his attention.

"Adam!"

Startled, he stopped short, turning towards you with his eyes wide in surprise.

"Yeah? You alright?" He asked, putting down the basketball and appearing in front of you.

"Yes Adam, I just wanted to get this part done," you explained, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, why do I have to work? I would also love to be able to play with that fucking basketball." It wasn't that Adam didn't work, he just got distracted easily.

"Ha! As if you could play." You felt deeply offended even though you knew you did NOT know how to play basketball.

"Wow. Just wow. I thought you would've known about my years in the angel's basketball team. I used to be one of the bests." You lied, trying to defend your dignity.

"As if! I was on the angel's basketball team. Never saw you there." "It must've been waaaay before you got in. I've been here for longer, you know."

"Alright then, prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove you can play." He handed you the ball and you held it.

"I'm a bit rusty." You smiled at him as you saw him grin. He could see right through you and your lies, what he didn't figure out was that you could also see right through him. So instead of shooting towards the net, you hit Adam with the basketball right on top of his head. Watching it bounce on it only to later hit the floor.

"Ouch! What the fuck was that for?" he ran his hand through his hair.

"Get to work or I'll hit you again."

"Hey! That's toxic workplace behaviour, I'm gonna have to report you now." You groaned in annoyance. "What will it take for you to work on this with me for an hour? Do we have to make a deal?" You joke with a light chuckle. Adam jumped at the opportunity to compromise, knowing that he could work if he really wanted to, and that the deal would then be in his favour.

"A deal hey?" He asks, resting his chin in his hands, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, whatever you want for 1 hour of your precious time," you scoff, picking up your pen again to work. As a higher ranking angel, you knew better than to be stubborn. You didn't mind having to sacrifice a little something. Besides, the end was in sight, meaning you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer - however, you struggled to admit to yourself that it would actually make you sad not hanging out with Adam as much as you were right now, worrying you would go back to the stranger treatment you had with each other before.

"I’m not gonna tell you until the hour is up," Adam teases, retrieving a book full of sinners' names for your work from the couch and opening it to a dog-eared page.

"Okay read it again for me, and this time slowly," you emphasise on the word “slowly”, watching him let out a small laugh, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.

"Okay, ready?"

"Yes, Adam."

"Okay," Adam takes a deep breath before beginning, you’re skimming over your notes, making sure all of them make sense. Adam tries to memorise some of the names before you write them, wanting rather to watch you work than have his eyes glued to the book.

Adam rests his hands in his lap, noticing the way your lips part and your tongue juts out only slightly when you concentrate. He notices you fiddling with the edge of your notebook, your fingertips grazing the spiral as it winds to bound the book. He notices how effortlessly pretty you are, and how committed you’ve been to this assignment. He thought it was so funny that you were so oblivious to his blatant staring. He suddenly lets out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding in.

"Adam?" You ask, the same annoyance bubbling inside you from when he didn’t pay attention before.

"Right," Adam shakes his head from his thoughts and returns to reciting the book.

You hadn’t noticed you’d leaned slightly into Adam, your shoulders brushing. Adam suddenly feels warm, his shoulder tingling where you were touching him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he licked his lips, readying himself to read the next part.

He thought of how cunning his side of the deal was, and how much more tempting it got the longer you touched him. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

Adam rested his hand on his thigh, inching his fingers closer to your joined knees.

You look up at him, finally noticing how close the two of you had gotten, but doing nothing about the close proximity. Something felt different, the air was harder to breathe, and your stomach felt like it was housed by a million butterflies. His eyes shun as they looked into yours, your faces inching closer and closer.

Adam finished reading and silence filled the room, accompanied by the small pants of your breathing, you pulled your body away, sitting up straighter and looking more alert.

"Good reading Adam," you let out a small cough to cover the awkwardness that had just washed over you. Fuck, you were so close to kissing him, and you didn’t know why. You scowled at yourself for being so cliche, and put down your notebook. Adam bit his lip in a smile as your cheeks blushed red because he knew you’d felt that too.

"Okay, deal time?"

You know you asked for an hour, but a break right now didn’t seem so bad.

"Okay," you say, as he scoots his bottom across the floor to face you.

"One kiss," he says finally, your jaw swinging open in shock. A kiss? Was he serious? Did you hear that right?

"A kiss?" You repeat, chuckling. At first you thought it was a prank - classic Adam. However, his face was dead serious, as serious as you had ever seen him. You hadn’t read that Adam felt anything for you, the same way you hid having a big fat crush on him by being sort of mean.

"Come on, you know you want to." He teases suddenly changing his behaviour and body language as he realised he had been perhaps a bit too vulnerable for his liking. But you has already seen him. You knew his true intentions when he asked that and you knew they matched what you wantes, so why weren't you kissing him?

Your lips form a tight straight line as you contemplate your choices. Give up the tough guy act now and cave to your feelings, or don’t. It was like Adam was giving you the perfect opportunity to do what you always thought of doing.

"Okay, only one," you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a curt nod.

“Of course, whatever the lady wants,” he sends a wink on your direction and you can't help blushing as you try to hide the redness with a laugh.

You lean forward, securing a small kiss on his cheek, almost too close to the corner of his mouth as it curled into a small smile. Your lips linger there for a moment, before you pull away, just slightly, your face still so close to Adam’s. You contemplate whether you should just go for it. But before you could decide what you wanted to do, Adam does it for you, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

It takes you aback, but you compose yourself quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, as his secure to your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re practically in his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. His tongue prods at your lower lip, and without another thought, you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore where no one else has. The feeling was magical, and after all those nights you lay awake thinking of this moment, it finally came in full force.

You had to pull away with a gasp when Adam’s hand started to cup your bare ass under your shorts, your hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as you stared at each other.

"Fuck I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-"

"No! It’s fine, I just, I... I kinda like you? Adam... And I mean, I don't care if you want to just fuck or whatever. But... I guess I just don't want that." you let out a nervous laugh, wanting so badly to crawl into a hole and die from your confession. "It's not you! Well, I guess it is you? I don't mind one-night stands, I just..." Adam interrupts you by letting a small laugh, the back of his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

"I get why you assumed that. I mean, I am THE Adam, THE original dick, why would I settle down?" You roll your eyes at his cockiness and his expression softens. "But I do like you. I like you just in the way that you said it, truly."

"Really?" You ask him, your voice only just louder than a whisper.

"Yeah! I mean- you’re so smart and pretty, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, wouldn't mind getting to know you better. The whole of you" he moves his hand towards your waist.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you reply, pulling Adam in for a hug, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you close, before you sit back down on the floor across from him.

“So… you think I’m pretty?” He asks, shooting you a cheeky wink. You roll your eyes again, letting out a small laugh.

[be-my-ally]

The Lisa-Marie

Big Bunny + The Return Flight (in case you want to catch up!)

Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism (public rehearsal, but no-one else is watching/or sees), elvis is a panty thief for no reason other than it’s now totally canon in my head that he continually stole knickers, fingering, mentions of drug use + abuse, oral (v receiving, p mentioned), jealousy, p in v sex, the briefest mention of a gun threat, references to elvis’ ill health. this is somehow the least-bunny fun + plottiest, while also the smuttiest so uhhh enjoy the angst at the end?

Director Elvis is linked where the scene goes in the middle of this, however there have been some minor adjustments to the opening + closing paragraphs to make it fit *just right* and so they’ve been inserted here. 

wc: 12k

Pls forgive me for the longest author note ever:

I went waaaay too far into attempting to make the timeline totally accurate; to the extent that I was noting down what city each night when i wasn’t even referencing them but honestly it was stressing me out so much that I gave up and removed a lot of the references - so this is *mostly* accurate in the general tour dates and vibes but not entirely because … this isn’t a biography, it’s smut with a lil teeny weeny bit of plot. 

Confession time! I was and am super unhappy with The Return Flight, there was so much in it that I was excited to share but I think my writing is off and I’m not super sure why, which affected my motivation for this A LOT so apologies for the fact this took a literal months. But hopefully you’ll all think it was worth it! And hopefully a lesser wait for the fourth and final part. 

Anyway, I might return Elvis onto the Big Bunny plane for a little spin-off fun but for now, enjoy bunny still being referred to as Bunny even though, by half-way through this, she is no longer a bunny. 

October 1974. 

You’re awake before him, gently shaking his shoulder as he groaned into the fur comforter that he didn’t want to wake up yet. He eventually shoves you hard enough that you decide it’s probably safer just to leave him as he is, pulling yourself together and redressing instead - he’s still got his eyes closed when you slip out. Ten minutes later you get a note passed to you with details about where to meet them for the pre-show rehearsal but you don’t actually get the chance to see him again, too distracted with dealing with all the matters of the disembarkation and cleaning. After you’re done you change as quickly as you possibly can, ignoring the questions from the other girls about where you’re going - practically sprinting to catch a cab.

He’s already on the stage when you walk in, pacing about - blocking the show as best they can in preparation to allow for the lights crew to have some idea of where he might be at any moment. He looks marvellous - absolutely gorgeous, his hair back but essentially left to do what it likes, all fluffy and soft looking. Eyes bright underneath his tinted glasses. He’s dressed in a white shirt, cuffs like a pirate, damp see-through sweat patches evident when he raises his arms, filigree studded belt, huge against his stomach, blue stones glinting in the lights. You feel your mouth water and tummy start to flip just at the sight of him. He smiles when he sees you, with your tiny little halter dress on, chilly in the cold air of the auditorium at the venue. The breeze causes you to wrap an arm around yourself a little self-consciously as he waves you closer to the stage. You're practically leaning on the edge when he kneels down in front of you and you get a sudden flash of what it must feel like to be a girl at his concert. Someone who hadn't had the luxury of falling asleep beside him, or the feel of his palms against theirs. The feeling of being forced to look up at him, his head backlit by the lights, a halo like he's the goddamn messiah. That feeling of desperately pining for a single moment of his attention. 

“Ah-ha! lil Bun-Bun! C’mon up here,” He puts an arm down before retracting it, looking you over more carefully, a note of stern shock in his tone,

 “Good lord! That might be more r’vealing than your lil bunny get-up. Uh - here!” He gropes around the floor for his jacket before he thrusts it at you, and you look at it with amusement, it’s a rainbow. Rainbow fringe. It’s truly one of the most preposterous things you’ve ever seen in your life. He grumbles as he holds it out, 

“Don’t need every man in here to be starin’ at you. Got work to do - don’t need ‘em bein’ distracted.” You don’t think you’re particularly scantily clad, you’re certainly showing a fair amount of leg but you’re far more covered up than Playboy enterprises would like you to be had you been on shift. But still, it was chilly, so you shrug it on gratefully. The soft leather caresses your arms, encasing you in his thick scent, it’s heavy on your shoulders and big enough that the fringe tassel tickles your thigh. 

“Uh Hi, Where-“ You wonder if you should even ask, “Where’d this come from?” You shake your arms out, making the fringe dance. 

“Oh - it was a gift,” He grins at you, lips all crooked in his sheer delight, “You like it?” He clearly loves it. So you lean into the absurdity and realise that what you’re about to say wasn’t even really a lie. 

“Uh. You know what, yeah I do,” You giggle as you shimmy a little making the strands swing. “I love it.” He looks at you fondly before he leans over the edge of the stage, tugging you up with a grunt. 

“Glad you could make it doll, been waiting for you.” You smile back at him, pleased as anything that he’s laying on the charm but that underneath you can still sense the sincerity in his voice. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” He pulls you close to him and you brace yourself with a hand on his belt, feeling the weight of the buckle against your fingertips. He reaches down to grasp your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss against it. It’s intimate and gentlemanly and you feel like you’re in a period drama, feeling your chest heave as your breath catches in your throat at the movement, and you’re helpless to do anything but gaze into his eyes. You glance down, eyes catching on the wide white band on his wrist, just above his diamond encrusted ‘Elvis’ bracelet. 

You stroke his wrist gently before looking up at him with a questioning brow raised. He kicks his foot out to show you that beneath his gently flaring trousers there’s a matching white band on each of his ankles. 

“It, uh, it mimics the weight of the ‘suit, gets me used to it for the performing.” He flicks a wrist, “And, uh, gotta try and get some of this weight off.” He pats his stomach, gripping the side harshly, “No-one wants to see a big doughy ol’ Elvis.” He shakes his wrists at you, and you’re mortified at the fact that it makes you squeeze your thighs, drool pooling in your mouth forcing you to swallow hard. Something about the way the rings on his fingers glint under the stage lights, the way the buckle makes the tiniest little metallic clang, feels akin to being shown a hidden sliver of skin. Makes you think all sorts of things. Of the weight of them around his wrists, of the possibility of them around yours, weighing you down, wrapped around your ankles too, making you heavy and pliable. Or his belt around your middle, the huge buckle pinning you in whatever position he chose. You don’t realise how low your eyelids have slid at this line of thinking until he laughs, 

“God - you got them dirty thoughts written all over your face Bunny, this is a respectable r’hearsal, don’t you go getting any ideas now.” He wags a finger at you, you feel like you’re being hypnotised watching it.

“Go on now - hop over there for me, sit yourself down, just watch the show baby.” He slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as he catches your bare thigh, while he grips your upper arm and ‘helps’ to lower you down gently, almost missing his huff of laughter in response. You have to take a second after you're on the ground forcing a deep breath feeling your heartbeat between your thighs. 

You take a seat where he’d pointed, content to try and settle down and watch him practice. It’s gorgeous to watch, he struts about the stage, breaking into gospel every now and again, making you smile at the clear little flashes of joy on his face. You’d considered if it was going to be boring, contemplated even bringing a magazine with you but now you were here you can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything but him.  Every now and again he cracks a joke, changing the lyrics to something dirty and tossing you a wink, laughing back at the boys who all join in like a pack of wild hyenas. It’s different to how he is in private, yet shockingly the same - there’s flashes of the insecurity you caught on the last flight, a quietness to him while he waits for a song to be set up or a wire to be fixed. But also an exaggerated boyishness to him, playing the jester for men who don’t seem to be aware he’s putting it on.

He calls a break after you’ve been there about an hour, and he slides himself off the stage to walk over to you. You were going to try and play it cool but you can’t stop yourself from gushing at him; 

“You sound wonderful. I can’t wait to see the show tonight.” He smiles, a little bashfully, 

“Yeah? I can see you wigglin’ your yittle hips from all the way over there,” He narrows his eyes at you, crinkles forming as his high cheekbones move, “ ‘just wonderful’, ‘s that all I am?”  

“Well you’re not - ” You squirm a little under his line of questioning and consistent stare, suddenly feeling a bit too hot in his jacket, “- not bad to look at. You’re so different out here than on the plane.” 

“In a good way?” You hum back a non-committal noise and though his brow wrinkles a little he lets it go. Instead leaning back on the chair in front of you, feet crossing between your legs. He folds his arms across his chest, your eyes track the bands on his wrists again and when you look up he’s smirking at you watching him. You can’t take it any longer and his smile grows wider watching you shrug his jacket back off, letting it hang over the back of the chair, fringe tickling your arms as it falls, 

“Let’s make this more interesting for you huh, must be boring having to wait for all this - ‘n I can see you’re all fired up for me doll.” You look around, but he’s blocking your view forcing you to focus on him even more, as if he wasn’t already the only thing you could see. 

“Oh no, it’s plenty fascinating enough El honestly,” He shakes his head, magnanimously as if he’s doing you a favour, 

“No, no, must be boring for an exciting lil girl like you.” He taps his chin almost pantomime-esque in its overdramatic nature. 

“Hmm… what shall we do to keep it entertaining.” You squirm silently begging him to stop drawing your attention to his wrists. He bends down, unstrapping the weights from his ankles, 

“They’re gonna be a bit big on you. But still,” He kneels down, like he’s the prince and you’re Cinderella, tapping your foot to make you lift it up for him. He slips it onto your ankle, letting it fall down over the top of your foot as the weight drags it down. You wiggle your foot - it’s not particularly heavy, you could definitely still walk and run in them - as was probably their intended use. But they made you feel very … aware, made you notice whenever you wanted to move your leg. He grabs your right leg now, doing the same, placing it back down when he was finished, your legs wide. You glance down at him, realising that your dress was certainly too short for this. You try to close your legs but he stops you with a hand to your knee. 

“No, no, darlin’, leave ‘em where they are. That’s gonna be your job ok baby? You’re gonna keep these yittle legs spread, and when you try to wiggle around again these-“ He taps one of the weights “ ‘ll remind you to keep still.” You hiss back at him, 

“Elvis - someone’s gonna, you gotta get up - they’re all gonna think we’re up to no good, don’t want - I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He grins up from between your legs, spreading them further. You cringe a little, feeling the air now brush against your uncovered underwear, feel your wetness start to drool onto the fabric despite the embarrassment. 

“Ain’t gonna be no trouble ‘round here little one. ‘Member I’m in charge.” He takes a second to leer at you, and your thighs twitch at him staring straight up your skirt. Finally, he stands up, using your thighs for balance, clutching at them on his way up, you gasp at the firm grip. He leans down over you, one arm bracketed on the back of your chair, and the sudden scent of him, stronger than what was lingering on his jacket almost overpowers you - his cologne almost too much, like walking past a men’s locker room. He leans down to murmur in your ear, his other hand going down to brush against your hip, feeling through your dress for the waistband of your panties.  

“C’mon Bunny slip ‘em off, let me have ‘em as a good luck charm. I haven’t got any of yours yet.” Your legs slip a little closer together and while he looks down and smirks he allows it, 

“You got a collection?” You ask shocked, tilting your chin up at him, he grins back at you, boyishly and amused ignoring the question. 

“C’mon! Hurry up, gotta get back to work in a second baby, want you all bare - so its nice and easy for you to slip a lil hand up there, want you to rub yerself every time you like what ‘m doin, ‘till you’re all silly with it. Okay doll?” He says it like its a totally sane request, and you have to wonder if he’s of completely sound mind. You glance around, double checking that the building is practically empty, and where there are people that they’re all preoccupied with the stage rather than glancing back at you sat in the middle of the row a few lines behind the mafia. You roll your eyes, heart going almost a little too fast, but still obediently lift your hips up to tug your panties down and off, they catch on the weight on the way down, 

“No need to be shy doll, I’ve seen it all before.” He winks, as he bends down to pick them up, glancing straight up your skirt as he does. You flinch a little at the sight of them in his hand, if you’d known Elvis was gonna be taking them home you’d have put on something a little sexier, but you can’t imagine that any change could have made his face more gleeful, as he stares down at the wet spot on them before slipping them straight into his pocket.

 “You ‘member what you’re meant to be doin’ now.” He whispers in your ear, pressing what would look like an otherwise fairly chaste kiss to your cheek, before sauntering back up to the stage.

 You nervously fumble the hem of your dress, delicately sliding a hand up, trying not to noticeably flinch as your fingers brush over yourself. You wonder if it wouldn’t have made more sense to slip your arm down the side of the wide arm-hole of the dress, more subtle perhaps? But all you can hope is that the the way the chairs are placed in front of you obscures your actions should anyone look back. From anyone that wasn’t up high on the stage. You can practically feel his laser focus up your skirt, you’re far enough away that you’re sure he can’t see anything in detail, perhaps not even the way your slickness glistens against your skin, but just the gentle motion of your fingers teasing yourself. There’s a clang as the metal inside the cuff on your ankle knocks against the chair leg and you freeze, anxiously glancing around to check no one had heard. Elvis’ head had whirled around at the noise from where he’s been talking to someone at the side of the stage and you can see the way his face contorts into a knowing smirk. 

You didn’t think you’d be into this level of wanton exhibitionism, but the sudden fear that had jumped through you had translated straight into excitement, and you could feel the pulse of arousal swirling with the butterflies in your stomach. You brush your fingers more confidently, rolling your hips with the motion, not even really aware of how much your body was moving, but simply going with it. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you rub a singular finger down your self, trying to build the anticipation, but you can’t resist moving your hand to play with your clit when your vision clears and you witness him moving about the stage - dancing, thrusting. He pauses while they reset something - the mic perhaps, or the lights, and you can feel the thrum of your climax growing; the fear of being spotted, the sheer desire for him, the feel of your feet firmly planted on the floor, weights holding them down, enough to bring you closer and closer. 

He starts singing again but if someone had had a gun to your head though you wouldn’t have been able to tell them what, and as you start to move your fingers again you make eye contact with him, swallowing a moan as you watch him attempt to surreptitiously adjust himself. You should feel embarrassed, you think, but instead a sudden boldness creeps over you at the evidence of his undivided attention, and you instead spread your legs wider, your skirt riding into the little roll of your stomach, completely exposing yourself. You run your fingers against yourself, feeling them slip as you gather wetness and drag it up, reducing the friction on your clit when you finally let your finger brush over it again. 

Elvis is stood still now, ostensibly staying put so they could manually hold the lights for him to sing a ballad, but in reality in the perfect position to watch you. You watch his face flush as he misses a note, watching you finally dip your finger into your practically dripping entrance. You’re made away of the weight on your feet when your legs try to jerk and your body compensates by crunching in on yourself a little. Making it startlingly obvious to anyone watching, hopefully just Elvis, what you’ve just done. 

You let his voice wash over you, and your eyes close as you go to add a second finger, thumb moving to tease your clit with little circling touches. Your climax comes over you suddenly and unexpectedly, a slightly unplanned harder touch directly over your clitoris and the combination of your fingers curling inside yourself sending shockwaves down your spine and belly. You continue to touch yourself through it - dragging it out for a moment. Until you just know that if you push yourself any further you’re going to scream and you have to slow the pace, gently stroking yourself as you slowly come down from the high. Your head had fallen back and with a little effort you manage to bring it back around, shifting yourself upright as you do. 

When you make eye contact he winks, mimics licking his fingers, and you look down at your own sticky pair, before following his mimed instruction. You meet his eyes again and watch him trail off mid-sentence as his chest heaves taking you in, squinting under his glasses to try and focus on your fingers leaving your mouth. You make sure for a second that you let your tongue peek out, watching him gulp in response.  Before hastily rubbing your hand against your dress, thankful for the colourful pattern that hides all sin. He sets the microphone back onto its stand, slowly, deliberately. Then, he motions you to the stage, and when you make no attempt to move, fear shooting through you that you’re going to be leaving a wet patch behind, he makes the request vocal. 

“C’mere Bunny, can’t see you all the way over there.” You rapidly close your legs, weights knocking against each other, and sit stock straight as several of the boy’s heads spin to look at you. Elvis breaks into song, “C’mon and be my little good luck charm.”  While pointing to a spot in the front row. You swallow hard, trying to make your limbs cooperate again, but it just looks like pure defiance, and he’s frowning at you when you try to plead with your eyes. 

His tone changes, “Ain’t gonna ask again honey,” You flinch as several other heads in front of you turn around to stare. You trip a little as you stand, forgetting about the extra weight on your ankles and when you look up Elvis’ smirking straight at you. 

“Can take them off now baby, leave ‘em on the chair, someone’ll clean it up later.” He winks and you suck in a gasp as you do as he directed, the implication of someone having to clean up both the weights and the seat of the chair. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at the complete lack of secrecy, with your mind all muddled you don’t have the capacity to consider that the other people in the room wouldn’t understand the double entendre. 

 “There we are, right there Bunny,” He points at the same spot again and you gratefully stumble down there, collapsing into it. You can feel your cheeks blazing and you clasp your thighs together, trying to tell yourself to just watch Elvis and not pay any attention to how wet you still are, or the embarrassment of being ordered around in front of everyone. 

You sit there primly, for the rest of the rehearsal, ignoring your newfound nakedness under your skirt - unable to draw your eyes off of his wrists, his waist, now you know how those innocuous little white bands feel. Waiting to be dismissed, sent home - although you hope that you might get another invitation. He finishes, stripping off the weights as he’s laughing and thanking the sound guys - although shouting back at them as he stalks across the stage to where you’re sat to the side of the front row.

“That interference needs to be cut by tonight, it’s messin’ with my ears, I don’t care if you have to go out and buy a whole new fucking system - just get it done.” Despite his harsh words by the time he’s kneeling in front of you he’s smiling slightly bashfully. His eyes crinkling at the edges as he mutters to you - 

“Don’t know why I keep ‘em around.” He offers you his hand, pulling with his suddenly weightless feeling arms to yank you up with him, clearly overcompensating without the weight, causing you to stumble with the force of it. His arm comes around to steady your waist. He stands there, legs spread and solid, holding you to him, brushing your hair off your neck to whisper in your ear. 

“Wanna come back with me, honey? C’mon baby,” He’s pleading with you, entreating you to follow him, babying tone convincing you as if you even needed encouragement. “How - How’d you feel about, I got some things we could watch, we could, could - I sure would love to tape ya, baby.” You lean back, brow furrowing as your mind runs through what he’s suggesting. 

(Director Elvis + Model Bunny)

But still, after some consideration you agree, and before long you’re relaxing on the bed with him, taking in the moments of quiet before he’s got to head out into the screaming crowds, performing for the pleasure of the girls and women. He’s magnificent in the flesh, masterful in his ability to command the ultimate attention of the audience. But still, as wonderful as it is to watch him, rhinestones glinting in the stage lights, you have to admit to yourself that you much preferred him in the somewhat faux intimacy of the rehearsal. 

By the time you’re all filing up the steps to the plane once more it’s night again, looking forward to a short day-break for you all after the busy past couple of days. Elvis is exhausted, and though he’s gentle with you still you can tell he’s had enough. He wearily waves to the other girls, calling you over to ask for some food before disappearing.  You push the cart into where he’s ensconced himself in the bedroom to discover him in the bathroom - door open, and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes catch on the little pill bottles lined up on the side, the man himself shaking seemingly every bottle possible into his palm until there was a little cocktail of medication contained in his hand. He takes them with a swig of water and jumps when he makes eye contact with you in the mirror. 

“Jeez honey, make a noise next time.” His tone isn’t harsh, it’s not annoyed - but it is solid, serious. You frown, the floor was carpeted but the rickety wheels of the cart still made some noise. 

“Oh, uh, sorry - didn’t mean to scare you.” You laugh a little bit in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, I’ve got, there’s hamburgers, and sandwiches and uh-“ He’s wiping his hands on a hand towel when he comes out of the bathroom, throwing it back onto the floor behind him when they’re dry. 

“S’ok Bunny, that’s good. Just-just leave it over here.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pointing to a spot within arm’s reach. He’s in the tracksuit again, out of the jumpsuit from the show, out of the the sharp outfits you were now used to seeing him in. But he still looks appealing, if not moreso now. Soft, approachable and above all else - cuddly. He’s evidently exhausted, face pale after removing the stage makeup, and he shuffles back on the bed. He’s starting to slur his words a little as he reaches for a sandwich, 

“Come. Come sit here baby… come sit here with me.” He pats the side of the bed next to him as he shuffles further up. You do so and he tucks a hand into the crease of your stomach and thigh, thumb brushing in circles, a gently squeezing grip. 

“Here.” He holds out a sandwich for you and you take it gratefully, “Gotta…feed you up while I got the chance.” His head is starting to slip forward as his eyes fall closed. You pat his arm, leaning over to take the parchment out of his hand. He grips your wrist, forcing you to put your sandwich down too as he slides down the bed to lie down, tugging you into him. 

“S’ok El, just, just close your eyes. You did so good today.” He hums, a little pleased noise like he’s somehow not used to being praised still. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping under and around you, pulling you tight to him. 

“That’s it Bunny, that’s it, just - just gonna rest my eyes for a moment, doll. Be…be ready for action in a mo’ - just, ju-“ You shush him, his eyes were fluttering closed, arm clenching around you and you felt it relax a second later as he drops off into sleep. 

There’s a few more flights scheduled, but they’re busy ones - short flights with barely enough time to get the men fed and watered, let alone enjoy any other kind of extracurricular activities - there’s a hasty blowjob and an attempt for the world’s quickest round of intercourse and that’s it.

There’s a break for a little while before he cancels the next flight on Big Bunny so you only see him once more, and that time he barely acknowledges you; exhausted from a show he locks himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until the plane is touching down. You wave goodbye to him, a little melancholy and hating yourself for wishing that he make some grand gesture to prove it had all meant something, instead he winks at you as he leaves down the steps, whispering a

“Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Bunny.” As he went. 

That’s the last you hear from him. For little over six months you hear nothing else. You’re almost immediately thrust back into the reality of the normal world and you’re kept busy enough that he doesn’t pass through your mind too often. 

Occasionally, when you see a tour announcement pop up in the tabloids, or from a fan-club membership that you totally didn’t take out in a pitiful attempt to keep up-to-date with his life, you wonder about him. About whether you were a bit of fun to flirt with, to tease, to sleep with for a couple of days - a distraction from the real life, like all the bunnies were intended to be, or if he’d meant any of what he’d said. The thing is, even if you were curious, you could never know - despite being so intimate, so close to him; had he lied? Did he help every girl through a panic attack with meditation? There no longer felt like six degrees of separation between you, no longer like you were travelling in similar circles, there now felt more like a hundred degrees; what were you supposed to do; ring the operator in Memphis and ask for Elvis’ number? Pull Hef aside on the next flight and ask him? Don’t be so ridiculous, so clingy you tell yourself, disgusted at your inability to let it go. 

Time passes, as it does, and though you somehow feel like you can’t escape him, ultimately you have. Months have passed and you’re busy - being promised a promotion, training a couple of new girls and it means that you don’t get to go home for what feels like weeks.

 You finally get back to your apartment, relieved to be there for at least a week, with a stack of mail waiting as tall as your arm. You take your time enjoying the peace and by the evening it feels like you can relax for the first time in a long while, glass of wine poured, comfortable little short pyjama set instead of the bunny-approved corset or dress. You’re just starting to open the first of what looks like several catalogues of clothes you’ll never get a chance to wear when the phone rings. 

You glance over at the clock, surprised that anyone would be calling you at half eleven at night, when as far as you’re aware none of your friends or family even know you’re home yet. You consider not answering, too content with your night, but it rings insistently so you drag the handset closer, accepting the call. 

“Fuckin’ finally,” You’re immediately taken aback by the annoyed exasperation of the voice on the other end of the line, 

“Where’ve you been?” You start to protest, to question who on earth is questioning you and explain that you’ve been working but the voice doesn’t give you the chance. 

“Listen, Boss’ got a new plane, he’s uh, calling it the Lisa-Marie,” he shouts to someone on his end, “I don’t know man, thought it would sweeten the deal if she knew he’d already named it! Like - ain’t that what you’re supposed to do if you’re negotiatin’ - let ‘em know you have a name?” Right. So, Elvis. Someone is calling about Elvis’ plane. You’re trying to comprehend that when he continues,

 “Sorry. Anyway, he wants you on it. He won’t hear otherwise.” He pauses, “Permanently. On call whenever and wherever he needs to fly,” As if he can sense this isn’t the most attractive prospect, “but you’ll uh, all expenses paid for, apartment in Memphis, the whole shebang, you’ll be well taken care of.” You take a second to process that, 

“Uh, I don’t quite know what to say - do, do you need to know right away?” He chuckles down the phone at you, 

“Well - uh, no, but, he’s goin’ on tour soon and we need the flights staffed by then so….” He trails off, and you know from your limited experience with Elvis and his methods that this means, actually yes, we do need to know right now, and we’re not actually giving you a choice. You take a deep breath, still confused as to why you’re getting this call out of the blue, thinking that you’re going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don’t. 

“Oh, uh, ok fine - look I’ll be at one of the offices tomorrow; I’ll give you a call and you can fax me over the information for the dates and things?” 

“No need, we need you by July.” You pause, that’s… barely a month away, 

“Ok, I’ve got a three week notice period though, I can’t just -” 

“We’ll take care of it with Hugh direct.” You laugh incredulously - is that how they think it works? 

“Hugh Hefner isn’t my boss - how high up do you think I am? I’m a jet bunny for god's sake.” There’s silence on the other end of the line as if they'd expected you to feel cowed, or awed by their famous friend. You can hear them whispering before the voice returns, just as confident as before; 

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” You frown but you’re not sure what else to do but agree - at least this way of something falls through you can claim you had no clue about any of this. 

“Ok, but you’ll have to ask for Ellen at the office and I’ve got a notice of -“ You’re cut off by him, 

“We’ll make it happen.” Well, you couldn’t say more than what you’d said - you’ll just have to hope they do enough that it all gets sorted somehow, and without totally burning all your bridges. 

“Right, well then, -” 

“Tickets for your flight on the 26th June to Memphis will be waiting at the airport. Someone’ll pick you up there.” 

“Uh ok, um, well then that’s -” 

“Thanks again, you’re a doll, bye!” The phone hangs up and you’re left holding the receiver wondering what on earth you’ve just agreed to. 

—— 

It turns out you’ve agreed to a stewardess job pretty similar to any other. You’ve got a cute new little uniform, and it was indeed little, sleeveless and hem skimming the middle of your thighs but Elvis had indeed fulfilled his promise - it was stretchy. With a scarf around your neck and tall boots it almost didn’t feel much different to your bunny outfits. In fact it all would have felt quite similar if it weren’t for the sudden increase in responsibility you were facing. There was another girl who worked on board here and there, but whether as a cost-saving measure (although you couldn’t fathom the necessity considering the gold sinks on the plane) or simply the knowledge that one stewardess and the pilots were enough for a plane of this size you weren’t often put on the plane together. It meant that you were often working alone and solely responsible for the cabin. It was certainly an adjustment, you’d been safety trained before - of course - but you’d never really had to use it; the focus of your jet bunny role had pretty much been to cater to the whims of the people on board. Like a Barbie doll you’d had too many jobs to count, and the responsibility to look good while doing so. On the plane you’d had to be waitresses, dancers, chefs and bartenders but less so a safety officer. 

And it’s so strange, you’d not been expecting much but you had been anticipating at least an acknowledgement, or something? But instead on the first flight Elvis collapses in a seat, clearly out of his mind and ignores you completely, There’s this, somewhat odd, hierarchy evident and you somehow just know that you shouldn’t approach him like this - trusting that his needs are being catered for by his entourage. But you can’t help but glance over at him, inspecting that he looks paler than before - almost sallow-like in comparison to the fit tan of the first time you’d seen him in the flesh. So you do your job, and see them on and off the plane with nary a word exchanged between the two of you. 

You fall into this habit pretty quickly, flight after flight. When he’s awake his eyes skim over you, unfocused and never stopping for long. You hate yourself for how upset it makes you, he hadn’t owed you anything and yet you still feel like you’d signed up for something under false pretences. It keeps you up at night, wondering how you could have been so stupid - you’d given up a stable salary, a life and an exciting one at that, for this - for him. With every month that passes you’re more and more aware that you’re creeping towards your next birthday and the chance to return to Playboy in any capacity is dwindling. They aren’t shy about declaring there’s an age limit. You feel like you’re trapped, in a never-ending cycle - flight, sort the plane while they’re at a concert, flight, fitful sleep in a hotel, flight, flight, flight. 

But then, like magic, two weeks before your birthday - two weeks before the deadline you’d come up with in your head to quit he notices you. He’d been looking better for a few days, on an upward swing or so it would seem, and seems significantly more aware than he had been.  He almost does a double-take, as if seeing you for the first time. It’s then that, suddenly, Georgia - the other girl, starts to come on board with you a lot more frequently - taking care of the other guys while Elvis not so surreptitiously pulls you into his excessively decorated bedroom.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in there, you clean the damn place after all, but it’s the first time that you’re able to look at it with fresh eyes, through the lens of the awe of a girl being invited back there as a guest. You feel the bend of the fibres of the plush carpet underfoot, against the smooth sole of your boot. 

He sits down, patting his thigh, “Give me your lil footsie baby, them little footsie sooties, put ‘em up here.” You look at him slightly askance, fondly, but still do as he asks, putting first one foot up on his lap, letting him unzip your boot, tugging it off and then your other one when he taps your ankle. He looks up at you, as he holds onto your foot, and you know you’re both getting flashbacks to that first flight, when he’d tugged your heels off, got caught in your pantyhose, the joy of that first time. He grips your wrist, forcing you to kneel onto and then shuffle across the bed as he tugs you while sliding back himself.  Pulling you're both placed far enough to the headboard that he sinks down into a lying position and drags you down with him. 

“Elvis - I, I, I don’t know what -“ 

“Shhh baby, don’t worry about anything, just, just feel it with me - you feel that?” He shifts to hold your hand, “Feel that energy? ‘S right between us darlin’ girl, right there.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, but you had been feeling the thrum of a connection, willing him to pick up on your silent desires, so you can’t deny a strength of feeling there. 

“I feel it.” He hums at you, happily, still holding onto your hand, threading his fingers through yours and pressing his nose against your cheek. He nuzzles at you for a moment, starting off gentle and slow, before rolling you into him and catching your mouth with his. He’s sure of himself, pressing himself skilfully against you - you’re more than aware that this is a skill he’s nurtured, learnt - been judged upon, almost as much as his singing and it shows, it feels no different to the first time you’d kissed. A masterclass in the right moves, just the right amount of bite, just the right amount of tongue, and it makes you buck into him. You’re suddenly desperate for him to break out of the cultured practiced mould, feel him lose control and slip. You gasp, trying to provoke it in him, biting down on his lip a fraction too hard. He shifts his grip to your neck, clutching it to pull you back a little, 

“Careful, honey, careful.” You can feel his lips move against your skin as he murmurs and it makes you shiver a little at the tickle of his breath. He kisses across your jaw, little sucking presses, before he returns once again to your mouth. 

It’s hard not to assign more feeling or meaning to it than what it is, when he seems to do everything with such feeling. Not for the first time you wonder how it would be possible to be kissed at a concert and then have to continue to go about your life, acting as if nothing huge had happened, as if something totally earth-shattering hadn’t taken place. But then, you imagine, it’s probably not that different to what you have to do. 

He pulls back a little, pushing himself up to be more on his knees than lying back, before he slips a hand down between you, pushing underneath your dress to pull at your panties, rubbing a finger on the outside. He pushes them against your folds, circling with his finger until a little damp patch is forming where he’s touching. He pulls them to one side, shimmying his hand underneath, a ring knocking against your thigh and catching on the fabric and your hair as he cups your mound. You reach a hand down yourself, brushing it over his trousers, but you’re slightly surprised to feel him still soft inside. He jerks his hand off of you, gripping your leg instead, shoving your hand away with his other. 

You pat his face as it peers over the top of you, the creases in the corners of his eyes a little scrunched up in disappointment and his lips in a slight pout; as if he were trying to stop himself being upset.

“‘S ok El, You’ve still gotta perform tonight too -“ You go to tug your dress back down assuming there was no need for you to remain bare but his hand flies out, gripping your forearm and pushing it against your stomach.

“Take it all the way off,” You look nervously over at the unlocked bedroom door but obediently wiggle down a little, as best you can with his arm still locked over top of you to slither out of the dress. He shifts back down into a horizontal position, sliding himself further down, shirt crumpling with the motion, before gripping you with one hand on an arm and one on a leg, to hint at where he wants you to move to, tugging you until you’re in position, straddling him.

“El - seriously, I don’t think, it’s fine, it happens all the time it’s noth-“ He cuts you off by sharply pulling, with hands gripping right on your hipbones, you closer to him - forcing you to stumble on your knees even further up his body. 

“‘Nough of that.” In that wonderful growly voice only he seems able to achieve, he lifts his chin up to press a kiss against your inner thigh. “Can still, still make you feel good Bunny, baby. Still make that pretty yittle cunt o’ yours feel good.” He yanks you so you’re perfectly placed, hands gripping the navy velvet headboard to hold yourself steady. “Just gonna have a lil taste, ok darling? Just needta give me a little more time. Let, let it kick in.” You nod frantically, although you’re not 100% certain what you’ve got to let ‘kick in’. 

“Yes, god, yes. Sure.” The kiss, and his brief touches had been enough to turn you on, and you jerk as he holds your thighs to press a kiss against your now bare cunt, 

“Oh, fuck.” Elvis laughs against you, and you can feel the vibration up your spine, thetickle sending sparks straight into your stomach. The sheer level of arousal makes you feel almost a little nauseous but you’re distracted by the feel of his tongue moving again, holding you tight to him with his grip on your thigh when the feeling makes you try to thrust out of his hold.  You can feel twin bruises form from the thick bands of the ring on each of his hands and the twinge of pain when he lifts the pressure makes you gasp, 

“Oh, Christ - Elvis, need, need you to,” You’re not sure if you were planning on asking him to let go, or hold you tighter - but you’re distracted by him shifting to suck down directly on your clit, briefly, just enough to make you choke on your own spit, before he releases, flattening his tongue and moving it down. Every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in and you can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth and against his tongue. He pulls away, and you shift your hips slightly so you can look down at him, and your head tips back with a moan as he quirks a little grin at you. It’s utterly filthy the way his chin and mouth is glisteningly sticky and wet.

“You like that honey?” You nod, and he returns, surging forward to renew his efforts, your hips circling in response. 

“Oh god, yes, don’t, oh, holy fuck, - don’t stop,” You can’t stop moving your hips, and part of you is briefly concerned that you might be suffocating him, but the larger part is more concerned with making sure he keeps licking right there until your building climax hits. His tongue is flicks between lapping at your vagina and your inner folds. Your hips are constantly moving and you grip the headboard even harder, feeling the fabric pile shift and flatten under your hold as he finally captures your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard, reaching up to slip a finger inside you as he does. 

Your lower back is starting to ache, thighs beginning to cramp but you can’t think about that, reaching down with one hand to comb through his hair, clutching at it as you thrust up and back, finally your climax rocking through you. He licks you through it, holding you open still, feeling you shudder around him, until you finally insistently tug on his hair enough to make him come away. 

You dread to think what it must have sounded like on the other side of the door, the wet smacking having been all you could hear past the blood rushing through your own ears and you’re sure you couldn’t possibly have stayed silent. You watch him wipe his mouth with a sleeve, blushing the whole while before he slips out of the shirt. Fully exposing his bare chest and, finally, reaching down to unzip himself. 

You’re sticky and soft when he reaches down, running a finger against you, opening you up to bump against you with his now, hard, cock. You’re not quite sure when it had happened, if it was a delayed reaction to a pill he took earlier, or if he simply was that turned on just by licking you to completion, but you’re not about to complain feeling how his head slips against your wetness, nudging at your clit before he angles himself down, bumping against your entrance. 

“There he is, Bunny, got Lil’ Elvie here just for you baby, for my sweet lil - ah, bunny bun,” 

Elvis pushes into you, a hand straying to stroke your labia on its way up to clutch at your waist, feeling the way you open up around him - for him. You groan at the sensation - it’s been a while, actually it’s been a long while; the last man you’d been with was the one currently pressing inside of you. He takes a moment to allow you to adjust, although you suspect it also allowed him a moment or two, either to calm himself down or encourage himself up. 

“That’s it, honey, there we are, there we go, Oh Lord, here we are, I got you, gonna, gonna do such a good job, you just lie back. I got you, got -“ 

He’s fucking into you now, slowly, sweetly, accompanying each thrust with his mouth joining onto yours, and sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. He’s trying to get the angle right, you can tell, but he’s decidedly less sure than he ever used to be, or least how you remember him. Taking longer to hit the right spot, and then almost immediately slipping away and losing it.

“Ah, that’s - that’s it, right there,” You almost cry out as he moves again, begging him in your mind to return to where he was. 

Still, he’s not totally unskilled, and the motion of his body against yours, of the feel of his hand reaching down to play with clit, combined with the growling curses and praises falling from his lips, southern accent coming out harder as he loses himself in it, is enough for you to feel yourself start to shudder your way towards a second orgasm, clenching down onto him. That is, apparently, enough to set him off and he takes some time firmly rocking his hips into you, before, with a hand splayed on your tummy for balance, withdrawing fast to shoot across your stomach. He collapses there for a moment, lips in a pout and eyes closed from the sheer pleasure of the minute before. 

He rolls off of where he’s pressed against you, where you’d welcomed being crushed under his weight, tummy pushed against yours, hairs tickling your own bare skin to flop onto his back. You watch his chest heave, eyes drawn to his tight little nipples, as he catches his breath back. You take a moment to swipe the cum off your belly with the edge of the bedspread, noting in your head to send it to the laundry later. You know you should be getting up to pee sooner rather than later but he’s holding out an arm to you, and you can’t bear the thought of refusing his offer. Instead curling into him with a sigh. He smells the same as you remember now, that same heady mix of sweat and sex, woodsy heavy cologne combined with the tint of smoke, and you hate how it sends flutters down your tummy again at how you feel a sense of familiarity from it. He murmurs into the top of your head, lips catching on your hair, 

“You been here all along Bunny? Hopping around my plane?” You nod and you feel him grimace, “Didn’t recognise you without your ears, or your yittle tail.” You don’t mention that you very rarely wore ears on Big Bunny, and that he had in fact seen you both on and off the plane without them too. He tips your chin up to look at you and you make eye contact with his pair of guilt tinged blue eyes. Your nose wrinkles and he taps it with a finger, “Twitchy lil thing though still ain’t ya?” He pats your cheek, “Still gonna be my bunny? Ain’t got another bunny, got, got,” He stumbles over his words as he takes a breath in, clearly struggling to stay lucid enough to have the conversation, “got other girls, not got ‘Cilla no more, but got, got Linda … and, and - I got a whole list, baby, but no - you’re my only bunny.” 

The thing is though, it’s never for long. You prefer the flights after a show to the ones before, he’s more awake before but he’s panicked like a tiger in a cage. It’s still difficult to tell what kind of Elvis you’ll be dealing with on any given night. There’ll be one flight where he’s perfect, drowsy from a show but awake and alert, flirty and fun, and then another where he sleeps for so long and so deeply that you worry he’ll never wake up. The worst are the ones where him and Dr Nick, his father or one of the other boys with that damned black bag disappear into the bedroom for the flight. He stumbles down the stairs after in a daze, clearly half out of his mind. The alternative - that you have to listen to his whimpering cries, that his body aches, that sleep won’t come to him - why won’t anyone listen to him? That he wants his mama, that everyone leaves him, “even my yittle yisa.” Is worse, it makes you wish for when he’s sedated or so over the top in his exuberance that you know his ‘vitamins’ have a lot to do with it. You don’t know how much longer you can silently pick up the pieces - cleaning up when he’s trashed the room in a rage, or left pill bottles littering the floor. Going in to him when he calls for you, acting as his waitress, nurse and on-call girlfriend all at once. 

Linda accompanied him often, and you’re shooed out of the way of her keen eyes as they watch you a little too knowingly. She’s sophisticated and classy though, more than you would be in the situation. More than you are. You take the opportunity to swap with Georgia as often as you possibly can when you know she’s coming with him. 

You’d avoided her too at first, often being the only one working on the little plane, not usually that many people on board - maybe ten at most, well within the capabilities of a single girl and the pilots. You hated that you felt the sting of jealousy, of worry that he was fooling around with her too, to the extent that when she, unprompted, had reassured you that she had not slept with him and nor would she ever sleep with him you had laughed it off. Pretending you had no idea what she was suggesting. 

Linda though proved difficult to ignore. She was a presence - even when she wasn’t physically there - he was swearing to the boys they were through, broken up, done, and then would spend hours on the phone to her. He’d swear he didn’t give a shit about her anymore; just had to keep his promises to take care of her - but then a week later she’d appear on the plane with him. They’d sit cuddled together half the time, shouting and screaming for the other half. You had no idea how to react when she called you in to the bedroom, Elvis’ head pillowed on her thighs, dead asleep. She doesn’t ask you for much, a coffee and some water to be brought to them. You do so, still slightly surprised to be invited to intrude on what seemed like an overwhelmingly private moment. But then, a large part of your job is being invisible when necessary. You don’t expect to her acknowledge you when you return, but she does - she’s polite and courteous, but quiet, eyes never leaving his relaxed forehead. A cynical part of your brain wonders if it wasn’t intentional, if she didn’t purposefully call you in at that moment to prove she was different, but that line of thinking gets you nowhere. It’s not your place to be jealous.

Occasionally there’s other girls with him, you burn when Sheila comes aboard - you’d given up your cover dreams for this, and it feels like she’s the new kid in town - replacing you in every way. Better than you in every way, she’s pretty and lithe and young; you’re young and pretty too but you’re feeling it less and less. She’s above you - in the privileged position to sit at the side of the King while you have to settle for serving him and her. She had the cover, you had gotten pouring the drinks into branded glasses.

Elvis didn’t help how you felt - the first time she came on board he took it upon himself to personally introduce the two of you. He was sat with his legs spread wide, Sheila’s own legs over the top of his, an arm tucking her tight against his side out in the lounge area, the public display of affection almost too much for you to witness. 

“Here she is!” He called out when you came around the corner of the half-dividing wall, and you balk a little before steeling yourself to walk over, 

“Here I am.” You respond, flatly. He’d been particularly difficult recently, and your patience was wearing thin. 

“Looksies - this here is my Sheila,” He raises her arm, she nods politely, “She’s - she’s a bunny too, she was on the cover.” You smile, what else can you do? 

“Oh - wow, congratulations.” You nod at her, she’s silent. 

“Two bunnies on the plane! My two bunnies together!” He laughs, and the tone and words immediately make you smart. There’s a cruel edge to it that you don’t quite understand, it’s not like you’ve ever turned him down or refused him, not like you’ve done anything to be treated second best - to have her paraded in front of you. 

 It makes your skin crawl, furious with every decision that led to this point, cursing those pretty blue eyes that you couldn’t refuse. Makes your skin crawl that he’d sworn you were his only bunny; and as ridiculous as it might seem, the evidence that that wasn’t true at all, that it was an empty promise makes you cry yourself to sleep for too many nights in a row. The first time you’d found a notelet, tucked under the bed having perhaps fallen out of a pocket or book, 

“To Sheila, 

Love you allways, 

E.P.” 

You take two weeks off, and debate whether you should even return, if it’s worth how it makes you feel. You don’t have time to see anyone else, and you’re not dating him. But then in some ways it makes sense all your emotions would be put onto him, you weren’t physically seeing anyone else, in general, exclusively cocooned in the Elvis Presley Show bubble. There is, you think after three glasses of red wine at home in your fancy new Memphis apartment, nothing else in your life. There is only Elvis. You wonder if you can use that as the excuse on your notice. You make yourself go back though, determined to get a grip of yourself, of your feelings, give it one last try. 

It’s short-lived with Sheila, at least from your perspective up in the air above the reality of the ground below. Ultimately, you feel you somehow won. And although he may, every now and again, bring some pretty young thing up into the air with him or have Linda come on board during some of the tour he’s fundamentally alone again - the same group of men his only constant companions. You form your own opinion of them, watching two of them cringe at the sight of the little black bag of pills and needles and two others writing his signature out on blank cheques. 

You’re horrified, making eye contact with Charlie, you think, you know their names now you need to start to use them. You open your mouth to say something, but uncertain about what, but he catches your eye, shaking his head and you wonder if there’s anyone on this plane willing to stick up for him.  You’re forced ot consider if it’s something you can do too - turning a blind eye to all of this or if you’re going to be forced to leave because you were unwilling to do so.

But then, there’s a few months where he behaves differently, and he looks different - his face brightens up, and though you don’t dislike how he looked before you can appreciate that he’s slimmed down a little, looking less bloated than he had before. A renewed interest in the happenings of the group. Suddenly, he’s interested in you again - ensconcing you in his bedroom, telling the boys to stop telling you what to do or asking you for things,

“It’s not her job - her job is looking after me.” And you do, distracting him as best you can when that’s what he’s after - reassuring him when it’s not. You have to talk him down from a panic at one point and you’re thankful to have the memory of him calming you down to use as your guideline, even if you find irony in being the one trusted to provide the measured breaths. 

The sex though, is still almost non-existent; he apologises constantly, and at one point you try to have a conversation about it, lying with him in the bed, cuddled together. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, E, you don’t needta explain yourself to me,” He hushes you, 

“You’re my girl as much as any of ‘em.” It’s your turn to stroke his cheek, 

“I don’t need to be, you don’t hafta say that to me.” He just hums at you, tucking you further under his arm and cupping your face to his chest. That’s when the gifts start rolling in, before you’d even arrived back at your apartment for a few days off, finding on the doorstep a gift bag filled with lingerie. You smile when you see it, but you’re a little puzzled - he’s not even seen you in your underwear in months. Was this a hint? Were you meant to be the one putting out? You took it as you thought he intended it, picking out and wearing the little white set you found in there, but you were unsurprised when nothing came to fruition on the flight. You tentatively bring it up the next time you’re curled up next to him - the flight not really long enough to justify a nap but happy to be tucked up in his chest.  You’re drawing circles with a fingertip through the gaping neckline of his shirt, absentmindedly thinking of how best to bring it up. 

“El, what’s -, not that I’m not appreciative but you don’t needta buy me things - especially, especially if you’re not gonna get anything out of it.” You refuse to look at him, anxious for his response. 

“Wasn’t that what you told me before? That you don’t dress for me?” You can feel him already grinning at you in anticipation of your reaction and you laugh, surprised he’d even remember that conversation from a year and a half ago. 

“Well, You weren’t really my boss then.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you, 

“Oh-ho, so I can have my wicked way with you now huh?” He squeezes you hard against his side. You giggle, and he continues - his tone turning more serious; “Honey… - Bunny,” he laughs when you squirm at being called bunny still, “I’m just, I can’t, can’t do more at the moment but I uh, I do still - I like thinking about you all pretty for me unner that tiny little scrap of a dress.” He flicks the hem, leaving his hand grasping the back of your thigh and your respond in playful outrage. 

“Scrap! You picked out this dress!” You smile into his chest as you feel his tummy move with his laugh, “Elvis - you don’t owe me anything, I don’t need to be bought things, you don’t need to feel like we have to do anything. I just, just want you to take care of yourself.” He hums at you, as non-committal as one can be. 

He shifts a little so he’s lying on his side, brushing his hand down your body, fingers fumbling as they graze over your core, he seems remarkably less sure of himself than the last time he’d touched you, and you have to wonder if, despite all these girlfriends hanging around, he hadn’t actually been doing it with them either. Whether it’s because his fingers are a little thicker than before, or his skills are simply rusty,  or maybe this is all some new technique he’d thought he’d try, he seems to take a while to do anything. He slips a finger between your folds, gathering the wetness you’d started to feel drip as a pavlovian response to his fingers anywhere near you, and rubbing it up your pussy but when he reaches the apex he seems to struggle, fingertip roving around, rubbing down but not quite finding your clit. You squirm as he continues to rub around just a bit too low, his finger making you pant simply from the virtue of it being Elvis’ finger, but not because of success with his ministrations. You panic, eyes flying open, wondering if you’re gonna have to fake it with Elvis beforehe pulls his hand away with a grunt. 

“Ain’t no good little, my hands are hurtin’ too much tonight, got them, got them shakes again.” You nod even though you know it’s at least partially untrue - his fingers not in the least bit unsteady, if anything they’d been a little too solid. 

“Just, it’s fine to just cuddle El.” He’s silent beside you for a few moments, 

“One sec doll, lemme just -“ He shakes his arms out, staring at the curvature of the plane ceiling as if he’s trying to talk himself up. “Ok, ok Bunny, lets, lets give this another go.” He captures your mouth in his, sucking gentle little bruises across the bottom of your jaw, and lowering himself down to your neck. He concentrates there for a moment as he dances his hand back down your body, shifting your dress up again. His touch this time is more sure, more similar to how he’d always felt, the confidence appeared to be back.

He circles your clit just right, the two fingers curving inside you hitting just the right spot, and he moans with you, 

“C’mon darling that’s it, oh that’s your lil button isn’t it - let me, just relax into me baby, relax, I’ve got you.” He crooks a finger, and your hips jerk, his other hand reaching over to pin you firmly against the bed while he takes the opportunity to brush directly over your clit once again. You squeal, panting, as he whispers into your neck, 

“Such a good girl, good little baby Bunny, c’mon now,” He croons into your ear, voice unmistakable, “C’mon - for me.” His words, the sight of his face, the feeling of his fingers, it all combines so that in mere moments your back is arching off the bed, clutching at his arm as you tip over the edge. 

When you’re back into the land of the living, and your breathing is starting to ease up a little, you’re able to sit up. You get onto your knees for him, expecting to reciprocate but he shakes his head at you, “Just, just lie with me, mama, let me cuddle, ‘s that alright? No-one lets -  everyone wants somethin’ offa me.” You frown, standing up, his words manipulating you into believing you’d even asked him for something, 

“Sorry El- there isn’t, there’s no pressure from me, I just thought because -“ You gesture to his still clearly wet and sticky fingers, “Just wanted to give it back to you.” He huffs, lying down again, and looking over his shoulder at you. Betrayal written on his face. It softens when you clamber back under the covers with him, and he tugs you closer. 

It goes downhill fast, the tours just keep coming, and the random, sudden desires for trips here and there. You’ll be home for a scheduled three, four week break and get maybe 60 hours before a call comes in - he wants to be taken to Colorado, California, to Vegas. Before you know it you’re careening into 1976. He swings like a pendulum from happy to angry - the emotions impossible to keep up with. He wasn’t ever wholly staid before but everything seems suddenly emphasised and the erratic nature of his personality is making you wonder if you can do this job much longer. It’s worse without a girl on board. Linda and he may have argued but he was almost always easily soothed. But she’s coming on less and less, and he’s telling tales about her more and more with the boys. Expressing how he hates her shopping now, how she deserves it but doesn’t earn it, how he can’t stand her nagging. He seems to have more girls than ever before, one or two picked up for him in every city, but they never seem to make it onto the plane.

Without the settling presence of a girlfriend that role falls to you, and although you’ve now spent countless hours with him it’s different; the fits and starts with which you get to see him is completely different to being a girl who’s able to be with him in his home - you find him almost overwhelmingly difficult to manage. The first time he’s brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot you for attempting to put him to bed, you laugh - not expecting to be essentially thrown off of the plane for weeks for such an indiscretion. It doesn’t get mentioned again - not until a while later; simply brushed over, forgotten about. There’s no apology, just suddenly one day, a bashful joke gets made with Elvis tucking his chin to his chest to look at you shamefacedly but almost immediately he cracks a laugh, and you’re forced to laugh it off with him.

His health swings like his moods, it seems to be entirely dependent on a number of factors that all seem to change within a minute’s notice. It’s a combination of his mental health, the exact cocktail of medication at any given time, the number of shows he was doing, how often he was getting to see Lisa, whether he’d been home recently, the financial situation or whether he’d recently liked how he’d looked in the mirror. As soon as any one of these changed it would either send him crashing into lengthy highs or a period of lucidity. 

You didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid - it wasn’t the role you were expecting to fill but as time goes on it seems the only form of relationship you can have with him. You don’t truly mind, although you do wish for more, if he’s going to let you have this part of him - the part of him that’s sad and lonely, the part of him that he’s ashamed of - even if just for a few hours on a plane where he can pretend to be distinct from real life, then you think you deserve the same relationship back on the ground. But you would never broach that with him, not even when he’s alone, or when he brings a girl on board who doesn’t even make it to the next city. All you can do is stay. 

The last part of the year is particularly hard. He looks awful, you only really get to see him directly after a show, the schedule doesn't allow for more spare days in each spot, and the sweat pores off of him. You can’t say he doesn’t look appealing in some ways, you wouldn’t mind  licking him clean, or crawling onto his sweaty chest. But in other ways, his face growing paler and yellower, it makes you cringe away from him. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him, or that you’re disgusted - a fear he’d mumbled into your stomach one night recently, it’s that it’s so difficult. Difficult to watch a man, so otherwordly virile to succumb to earthly decay. It’s almost painful - and it’s made all the worse by the fact that you’re only given the choice to witness it in fits and starts - over a tour you watch him, keeping a close eye, spending hours alone with him. But then, as you land back in Memphis, or Vegas, or California you lose him again - with no idea of how he’s getting on physically or mentally, no idea of how he’s feeling. He grows distant - and all you want is to make his journey easier, although the destination at this point is unclear. 

--------------

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last two chapters - there’s one last chapter to this ‘verse coming soon(ish) so lmk if you wanted to be added or taken off the list before then :)) 

@ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1

[lefthandedspaghetti]

I actually WROTE a fanfic? I haven’t done that since I was around eleven, but I did it! So…here it is (Anderperry fluff)

The autumn rain tapped lightly against the windowpane, out the window the world appeared blurred and softened, with the hues of autumn.

The radiator underneath the window hummed.

Soft, golden light spilled from the reading lamp that was attached to Neil’s bed.

it was one of those rare times, when being a student at Hellton didn’t feel quite so bad. 

 Neil was rehearsing lines from "A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” in his and Todd’s dorm room, Jumping on his bed like a kid on a sugar rush. every time he bounced off on the springy mattress, it would make a loud squeaking Sound.

Todd chuckled quietly, looking up from the notebook he was writing in.  He tried to suppress a smile, but that was sort of hard to do when your roommate was Neil Perry.

Neil read from his script, 

"Up," Neil jumped, 

“and down," he repeated, 

“Up," another jump, 

“and down,” 

He laughed, 

“I will lead them up and down. 

I am feared in feld and town, 

Goblin, lead them up and down. 

Here comes one," Neil pointed dramatically at Todd, beaming. 

Todd chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement, “Are you sure you haven't had too much coffee, Neil?"

 Neil shook his head firmly, "Only a few cups, but it's alright! Come on, Todd, jump with me!" 

Todd looked up at neil like he had just suggested that he Perform a cartwheel on the edge of a cliff. "I, I don't know, Neil. Jumping on the bed seems a bit... childish, doesn't it?” He glanced around sheepishly. 

  Neil shook his head and jumped around in a circle, "No! It seems a bit…fun! It’ll help you write a lot better, trust me.” 

 Todd scoffed. “How does that make any sense? Neil… thats, that’s crazy, you’re crazy.” 

  Neil paused mid-bounce, looking serious for a moment. “Think about it Todd, When you jump, the blood rushes to your head, right? It's like a whole ton of inspiration rushing straight to your brain! It makes sense doesn’t it?” 

Todd chuckled and paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, no, that’s not how it works.”

“Oh, come on, Todd,” Neil implored, his soft brown eyes pleading. That look made Todd completely fall apart. 

"Alright, okay, fine. But just one jump, alright?" Todd said with a sigh, setting aside his notebook and sitting up from his bed. He extended a hand, letting Neil pull him to his feet atop the mattress.

 The bed creaked beneath their weight, and Todd glanced nervously at Neil, who was practically vibrating with excitement. 

With a timid bounce, Todd’s feet left the mattress, barely an inch of air separating him from the bed.

“There, I jumped once!” he said, smirking as he made an attempt to climb down. But Neil’s hand shot out, grabbing Todd’s hand and stopping him.

“"No, no, no,” Neil chuckled, shaking his head. "That won't cut it. You've got to really go for it. Imagine you're trying to touch the ceiling!" Neil explained. He demonstrated with an enthusiastic leap, though his fingers fell short of the ceiling by a good foot.

Todd attempted to mimic Neil’s jump. His feet left the bed in a clumsy hop. Todd looked over at Neil checking to see in he had just seen that horrible excuse for a jump. He did.

Neil grinned, trying hard not to laugh. 

“Here,” Neil said, gripping Todd’s hand more firmly. He crouched slightly, then sprang up, pulling Todd along with him. The force of Neil’s jump lifted Todd higher, and a burst of laughter escaped them both.

They landed with a loud squeeak, as if the bed was yelling at them in protest, I’m waaaay to old for this kind of behavior, my springs are rusty, my mattress is sagging, and my frame creaks with every little movement, take a hint guys. 

“Did you see how high we went?" Neil gasped between laughs, his eyes alight with joy.

Todd nodded, “Again?" He asked eagerly. 

Neil laughed and was just about to jump again, this time even higher, when 

His foot collided with Todd’s, and with a yelp, they toppled over. 

 Todd landed beside Neil, his cheeks blushed with exhilaration. 

“Are you okay?” Neil said trying his best to sound concerned, despite the fact that he was still laughing.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Todd managed between chuckles, rubbing his side where he’d landed. “We’re gonna be in a lot of trouble if we break your bed.” 

Damn straight, The bed would say if it could talk. 

 Neil’s giggles returned, and then the boys were laughing uncontrollably. Neil sat up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. both of them breathless and grinning.

“Okay,” Todd said, still chuckling, “maybe, maybe that was…sort of fun.”

“Sort of?” Neil teased, nudging him playfully. “Admit it, you loved it.”

Todd rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling, “Alright, alright. Yes. Happy now?”

 Neil beamed, “Very.”

 There was a moment of silence, and their eyes met. Todd felt like a ton of butterflies decided to have a dance party in his stomach. 

Neil’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made Todd want to cry, or smile, or just hug him and never let go. 

  Leaning in, Neil gently pushed Todd’s bangs back, and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. Todd blinked in surprise, and felt warmth rush to his cheeks. 

 As if just realizing what he had done, Neil’s eyes widened in shock. His heart pounded so hard, he could feel it in his head. "I, I…” Neil’s voice trembled, his words stumbling over each other in a rush. "Sorry, I, I didn't mean to..."

Todd reached out, gently placing his hand on Neil's cheek.

"Neil…” Todd whispered, but Neil was too caught up in his frantic apologies to hear. “Neil,” Todd repeated, louder this time, “It’s okay.”

Neil’s words faltered, his breath stopping as he stared at Todd in disbelief. Todd Leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against Neil's.

As they pulled apart, Neil felt like the room was spinning, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked at Todd, 

 Todd's was blushing, and his hair was all messy, he looked incredibly beautiful. 

Neil's vision began to dim at the edges, as if someone had gradually turned down the brightness on the world around him, He felt an intense wave of dizziness wash over him.

"T-Todd," Neil managed to say, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I think I'm gonna faint…" 

 Todd chuckled at first, thinking Neil was joking, but then he noticed the panicked look in his eyes. 

"Oh, Neil," Todd said softly. He reached out instinctively, placing a gentle hand on Neil's cheek. "Hey, just breathe, okay? You're okay." 

 Neil took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he rested his own hand on the hand that was cupping his cheek.

Todd’s touch was grounding, anchoring him in the moment. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of Todd's hand against his skin.

When he opened them again, Todd was still there, looking at him with a soft smile and furrowed brows. 

Neil clenched his fists, and his heart swelled with joy. 

"I'm... I'm okay," Neil managed to say, his voice still a bit shaky. “Probably just all the blood rushing to my head.” Neil laughed.

 Just then, there was a loud knock knock knock at the door, and Cameron peeked into the room, “It’s time for dinner you guys.” He announced. 

 Todd nodded, then noticed that he still had his hand on Neil’s cheek, he pulled away quickly, his eyes wide. 

“Oh, Okay!” Todd said a little too loud, and got up from the bed a little too quick. 

Cameron eyed them suspiciously,  "Uh... what's going on here, guys?"

“Nothing!” Neil exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. 

 Cameron lingered in the doorway, his gaze shifted from Neil to Todd and back again. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, "Are you ... using drugs or something?” 

“What? No, no of course not.” Neil insisted, shaking his hands. 

“Well you better not be, That would get you expelled you know.”

"We know, Cameron. We're not doing anything like that," he assured, forcing a calmness into his voice that he didn't really feel.

 Cameron’s eyes narrowed. "Alriiiiight," he said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "But dinner is ready, so hurry up."

"Yeah, we're coming," Neil replied, sounding more natural this time.

 Cameron eyed them one last time, turned, and left. 

Neil and Todd didn’t even realize they had been holding their breaths, until they sighed. 

Todd reached out and squeezed Neil's hand, before letting go and heading for the door. Neil followed, his heart still racing but steadier now.

They walked out of the room together, side by side, and made their way to the dining hall.

End

(I have no idea if that was alright, it’s really late rn, and I can barely read so 😭 I just had that idea of Neil and Todd jumping on the bed and I really needed to write it.)

[ohmigoshiloveu]

MAJOR spoilers for the suckening episode 4 under the cut. I love Emizel <3

Say what you will, I’m like, fucking ecstatic that Emizel died. Like. He was my favorite! I’m upset that he’s gone (maybe), but for what it did for his character? Love it! Emizel was just a little too ready to die and I love that for him.

Okay, so, waaaay back in episode one. Emizel had almost his entire gang wander away to rob a gas station, and he sent his last two goons to go bring a Demon kid back to the hideout. Charlie specified that Emizel knew that Soda wasn’t a fighter.

Like, even before Emizel walked into the alleyway littered with dead Demons, he knew he was going into a full out gang war, basically alone, after some of his guys had already gone missing and might’ve been dead. Emizel was ready to risk dying, and there was barely a reason beyond, idk, he wanted to avenge those guys that went missing? And then to avenge all the guys in the alley? He never thought to regroup or come back with a strategy, he just felt like throwing himself at an impossible opponent was the thing to do, and he was glad to do it. When he realized he couldn’t hurt the vampire, rather than backing off or being scared, he just doubled down on wiping the smug look off his fucking face.

And then in episode 4 he does the exact same thing. Like, he had to have known that Daybreaker was going to kill him- maybe not at first, but definitely before the point of no return, and Emizel doubled down on doing some damage to this fucker. He didn’t need to do that, he didn’t even like anybody in the club, he wanted them to die, he wasnt rescuing anybody, he wanted to fight just to fight and wanted to die just to go down swinging

Like- Emizel’s not suicidal so much as his only reasons to live seem to be adrenaline and spite, you know? And maybe just a hint of protectiveness- like finding Grefgore before fighting Daybreaker or not passing out until Soda runs. But like, if nobody needs him right at that moment, if the person with the most punchable face could kill him, if the most fun thing to do is to die, there’s nothing stopping him.

Like! Emizel joined a gang! He literally killed 12 people! I bet he dropped out of highschool! He’s just not a guy who cares about consequences, and I’m almost positive he didn’t expect to live to see 30, which just ended up reaffirming that he didn’t have to worry about consequences ‘cause he’d be dead soon! I bet he lived off junk food! I bet he smokes! I bet he fucking burned his birth certificate! He’s running on fumes and hoping to fizzle out before he gets bored! He’s such a hopeless character in the most not-sad, apathetic way possible.

Ooourgh I’m so happy he went and fucking died in such a stupid, unnecessary, spiteful, bastard-y way. Like, it finished the tragedy he’d been writing from the beginning.

[betweenbreaths]

booze (zoro x reader)

Summary: The winner gets booze — the finest booze of them all.

The rules? The first one to touch the other loses.

Neither you nor Zoro intend to lose.

Rating: Explicit (smut - you have been warned)

A/N: I spent waaaay too long writing this but this was the most fun I had writing something in a while. Hope you enjoy! :)

AO3 link in the replies to this post.

***

It was no secret to anyone on this crew that you and Zoro both loved your booze. At parties, you were the best drinkers, and also the heaviest sleepers after that. On the rare occasion that the Strawhats had time to rest and play around in a town or island, both you and Zoro would be each other’s drinking buddies, no questions needed. 

And so, it came as no surprise that the both of you were equally hung up over a particularly expensive bottle of alcohol in a bar where you had both been drinking. There was only one bottle left, so getting one each was out of the question. Sharing the drink was, for some reason, not on the cards either. Probably because you were both extremely drunk — that often brought out the competitive streak in both of you.

Because you couldn’t decide on how to split it, you had agreed on a momentary truce: purchase the bottle, take it back to the ship and hand it over to Sanji who would lock it up safely in the kitchen, get some sleep and then decide what to do with it in the morning.

It was afternoon by the time you both woke up, both hungover and grumpy. The dull headache did not help to ease your foul mood in the least. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Zoro asked with a yawn, as you both eyed the precious bottle of alcohol placed atop the kitchen counter. It had cost you a good ten million Berries, and the news of the purchase had Nami smacking both of you on the head at least ten times for “wasting” that much money. 

You both knew it wasn’t a waste; this was one of the rarest drinks in all of the land, known as the “Dragon’s Tears”, a drink which was usually served exclusively to the Celestial Dragons. It could only be smuggled out in low quantities, and was sold on the black market for ridiculous prices. The fact that you had gotten it for 10 million Berries was already a huge steal.

“Dunno. Any ideas?” 

Sanji, being close enough to overhear, paused from his dishwashing to turn his head your way.

“How about sharing it?”

“No,” you and Zoro had both answered in unison, which had Sanji rolling his eyes. 

“Guess we don’t have a choice; we’ll have to settle this through a duel.”

“No way,” you had objected hotly, glaring at Zoro who was now wearing a sly smirk on his face. “We both know you’re stronger at combat.” 

“Oh yeah?” he grinned. “If you’re going to admit defeat already I’ll just take the bottle for myself now.”

“Please, if we made this a test of intelligence the bottle would be mine. We need to pick something fair.” 

“Did— Did you just call me stupid?” 

You ignored him, deep in thought and wondering how you should go about this. 

And then it came to you: an idea so brilliant, that a devious, cunning smile was playing on your lips before you realised it.

“What’s with that look on your face?” 

You said nothing, already calculating your next move.

Oh, Zoro was most definitely going to lose. 

***

It was an especially hot, windless day, and you were on the deck with Chopper, Luffy and Usopp who had their tongues out while sweating profusely. You were all under the same tree, seeking shade from the ruthless rays of the sun. 

“Chopper, do you need some ice?” you asked, eyeing the little reindeer who looked like he might pass out at any minute. 

“That’s okay… I just… need to lie down for a bit…” 

“Maybe I’ll ask Sanji for something to cool us all down.” 

Speak of the devil. Sanji burst out the door at that exact moment, calling your name in the usual high-pitched, exaggerated tone that he reserved exclusively for women. He came skipping over to you, holding a tray of popsicles in one hand and extending a light pink one to you. 

“For you, my lady.”

You accepted it with an appreciative smile, which had Sanji doing a number of cute, happy twirls for you. The rest were quick to complain and demand for popsicles too, and in response the blond had glared at the lot of them, before hurling the popsicles at their mouths as if they were spears. 

Ignoring the sound of choking in the background, you licked at the cool surface of the popsicle, enjoying the taste of sweet strawberries on your tongue. It was a much-needed respite for your parched, dry throat. 

From the corner of your eye you noticed Zoro walking over, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sought the shade under the tree on the opposite end of the deck. He was cool as always, ignoring the racket that was going on next to you other than to shoot an annoyed glance Sanji’s way. He then sat down on the grass, before lying down on his back, his arms crossed behind him as a makeshift pillow. 

After a moment he seemed to notice that you were staring, and you met his gaze evenly with a sly smirk. 

Keeping your eyes locked on his, you stuck your tongue out, licking the underside of the popsicle, before putting the tip in your mouth. 

Even from this distance, you could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

It had been two days since the game started. The prize? The finest booze in all the land.

As for the rules? First one to touch the other would be the loser. Relieving yourselves privately or with other people was strictly prohibited too, and you’d have to rely on each other’s word for it.

You knew it was going to be difficult; you and Zoro had been going at it like rabbits almost every day, ever since you both decided to finally act on the mutual physical attraction you had for each other. Everything started when you both got extremely drunk one night in a bar and woke up the next morning to find your naked bodies snug against each other in the crow’s nest. After that, neither of you needed alcohol as a catalyst, and there was no stopping either of you from getting your hands on each other once you were away from the prying eyes of your crew members.

Nothing, until now, that was.

Zoro had been amused when you shared your idea with him, and it had been easy enough to provoke him into it with a simple “I guess you just can’t keep your hands off of me even for a day?” 

As expected, the man had snapped and immediately agreed to your terms, seeming confident that it would be an easy win for him. 

But the cocky swordsman had another thing coming if he thought you would give him an easy time. After all, you were determined to win; the stakes were high, and more importantly, you were determined not to lose to him. 

You got up, dusting the stray blades of grass off your shorts, before heading over to the tree where Zoro was laying under. 

He peeked his good eye open, peering at you warily as you approached him, obviously knowing from that smirk of yours that you were up to no good.

You plopped down next to him, taking another lick of your popsicle.

“If you want one, you better get it from Sanji soon, or everything’s gonna melt.”

“No need,” he replied with his usual stoic expression, “It’s not that hot here.”

Oh? Well then, it looked like it would be up to you to raise the temperature for him.

“Is it? I’m melting over here.” Clutching the popsicle between your lips, you made a show of lifting the hem of your crop top, before pulling it over your head and tossing the damp garment at Zoro’s face.

He caught it easily just before it could actually hit him in the face, and you listened to his disapproving grunt, followed by an almost inaudible sharp inhale of air.

You shot a knowing grin at him, which was met with a glower. You had donned a lacy bra on purpose for today, and while you were certainly giving Sanji and the others a good show, you knew this was getting under Zoro’s skin. The light pink material was almost nude under the glare of the hot sun, and you knew how much Zoro loved seeing you in delicate lingerie that was only too easy for him to tear off.

Ignoring the sound of Sanji launching himself into the air with a fountain of blood spurting through his nose and Chopper’s panicked screams behind you, you relished in Zoro’s undivided attention on your exposed skin. You could see in his good eye roaming over your body that his thoughts were trailing into dangerous territory.

Popsicles. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it worked. Every. Single. Time.

With confidence surging through you and your pulse racing from the thrill, you raised the melting popsicle once more, not flinching as a few drops of the melted liquid fell from the other end and landed onto your chest. 

Zoro didn’t seem to be breathing as he watched the pink drops of liquid slip down your chest and disappear into the valley of your breasts.

A sucking noise drew his attention back to your face, where you had half of the popsicle in your mouth now, the tip of it poking your hollowed cheek as you sucked. The sweet flavour swirled on your tongue, and you swallowed, before releasing the popsicle from your lips with a light smack and a soft moan.

Through half-lidded eyes, your gaze fell back on the swordsman who still had his good eye trained intently on you. He hadn’t looked away once, never one to back down from a challenge.

“It’s sweet,” you told him with a hum, before offering your half-eaten popsicle to him, allowing the tip to stop just shy of his tightly pursed lips.

“Try it.”

He obliged, much to your surprise, and caught a huge chunk of it between his teeth. The popsicle broke with a light crack, and the chunk that had landed in his mouth was crushed into pieces seconds later.

“It’s not that sweet,” he remarked, his lips turning up in a cocky smirk that mirrored yours.  

“I still prefer the taste of you.”

That line went straight to your loins and he knew it. The mental image of his head between your thighs, eating you out like the finest dessert he had ever tasted, filled your mind and you felt your body begin to heat up. 

Of course Zoro wasn’t about to let you walk all over him. No, it just wasn’t his style. It was one of the things that drove you crazy about him. 

Not ready to back down, you tipped your chin up in defiance and spread your legs just a little, hands trailing up your inner thigh at a deliberately slow pace.

“You’re more than welcome to dig in, you know.” You proceeded to lean in, allowing your lips to hover just above his ear. 

“And while you’re at it, you can take a look at what I’m wearing underneath.”

That seemed to really get him. His jaw was clenched, and you could see the fire in his darkened irises as you pulled away with a sweet, innocent smile.

“I will, after I win this thing.”

You laughed then, which only seemed to grate on his nerves.

“Make it quick, then. I’m throwing this set away after tonight.” The sound of grass rustling filled the silence between you as you stood up to leave.

“What? Why?” he asked.

You turned back, shooting him a wicked grin that made him instantly regret opening his big fat mouth.

“Because it’s gotten so… wet.”

You didn’t need to look to know that Zoro was probably cursing in his head right then. While you would have loved to watch him stew, you decided it was best to make your exit after winning this round. 

***

Karma hit you like a bitch two days later, when Zoro made it abundantly clear that you had chosen to mess with the wrong guy. 

You were doing your training as usual in the crow’s nest, not seeing the need to avoid the place just because of the ongoing bet you had with Zoro. And so you were hardly surprised when he entered halfway through your workout. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You greeted each other like usual, and he went about his own thing while you did yours.  

Except, today Zoro had decided he would do his training topless. 

It wasn’t exactly unusual for the man; he often trained without a shirt on to avoid getting it completely soaked with his sweat.

But today, you knew the move was a deliberate one; a clever move in this game of chess. How did you know? Because each time he caught you sneaking a sideways glance at him, he would flash you a brazen smirk that said, “Like what you see?”

You had never been one for being discreet, habitually checking him out whenever you trained together in the crow’s nest. You couldn’t help it; Zoro was ripped in all the right places, the lines and curves of the hard muscle under his tanned skin extremely attractive in your eyes. You would find yourself lost in the way his muscles rippled and clenched as he moved, your mind wandering to all the things he could do to you with that monstrous strength of his. It would be filled with various mental images: his ass clenching while he rammed into you, his arms clenching as he held you tightly in place so he could have his way with you, your fingernail marks dotting the broad expanse of his back… 

It was no wonder then, that Zoro training topless usually ended in many, many rounds of mindblowing sex in the crow’s nest. By now, you were sure you two had christened pretty much every corner in this room. 

That was probably what he was after when he came up here. He had made it clear that he knew exactly how to push your buttons, as you did his.

With each swing of a weight easily twice his size, he would let out a grunt not dissimilar to the sounds he made while fucking you senseless. It was taking all you could to focus on your training, but even that was challenging when he was right there next to you, literal and metaphorical heat radiating off his body and drawing your attention to him like a moth to a flame. 

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your training?” he asked in a mocking tone, breaking your train of thought and sending heat rushing to your cheeks. You dropped your gaze to the weights in your hands, resuming your bicep curls. 

“I would if you’d give me a bit more space here. You’re getting too close.” It was a bald-faced lie and didn’t sound convincing even to you. Zoro was always careful and made sure to keep a safe distance from everyone whenever he swung his sword or weights or anything else that could be dangerous. 

Nevertheless, Zoro shrugged and took a big step back.

“This good?” 

“Yeah.”

You resumed your workout, but your inability to concentrate had you losing count of your reps multiple times. It wasn’t all that surprising; the bet had been going on for a few days now, and you were pent up enough as it was. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come to the crow’s nest after all. You should have known Zoro would pull something like this; there was no way he wouldn’t get back at you after your last attack. 

But, you’d be damned if you backed down now or let him know he had the upper hand. 

Leaving the room now was out of the question — that was a coward’s move. So you decided to drop the weights in your hand, heading over to the rack to reach for much, much heavier ones that you had yet to try instead. It would be much less easy for your mind to wander if you had to focus everything into trying to lift these instead.

A genius plan, you had thought to yourself, until you tried lifting them off the rack and nearly lost your balance, body lurching forward and being dragged down by the weights that were clearly too much for you. 

You had expected to go tumbling into the rack and make a mess of the equipment and of yourself, while Zoro watched with mocking laughter. 

But the situation you found yourself in next was far, far worse than that.

What did happen was: you remained standing where you were, the heavy weights in your hands — not because you were magically able to summon the strength to hold them in that split second, but because someone else was now holding it for you. 

You felt an imposing presence mere inches behind you, the heat from his body telling you exactly how close your bodies were in that moment. Zoro, however, had been careful enough to make sure he wasn’t touching you, not even his hands that were holding the edges of the weights that were still in your grip. 

“Oi.” His gruff voice sounded right above the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending delightful shivers running down your spine. “That could have been dangerous.”

It took a moment for you to come up with a coherent response. 

“For you, or for me?” you asked, fighting the urge to lean backwards into his rock solid chest and rub your ass against his crotch—

Yeah, this was definitely dangerous for you.

“You’re asking that when you nearly got a concussion over a bunch of light weights? Or maybe that was a little trap you’d planned too.” His chuckle was low and dangerous, and his next words came out in a deep drawl that tickled your ear and made you go weak at the knees.

“If you wanted me to touch you, all you needed to do was ask.” 

It was too much. Zoro was playing all his cards right and pushing all the right buttons. You were barely holding on to the shred of rationality that was left in your head, your lust and urges starting to take control. All you needed to do was turn around, and you’d be kissing the shit out of him, melting against his body and letting go of everything that you had been holding back for what seemed like an eternity now. 

It would be too easy to give in. 

But, the more sensible, prideful part of you knew better: you couldn’t let him win. Knowing the man, he would never let you live it down, and would taunt you for the rest of your days with this victory. That, and you’d have spent ten million berries for nothing. 

“You’ll just have to make me want to ask,” was your retort, filled with all the fake confidence that you could muster. 

There was a beat of silence. Then you felt a tug on the weights in your hands. You promptly released them, allowing Zoro to step away and return the weights to where they belonged on the rack. 

Your back suddenly felt cold and empty, now that he was gone. Never mind that, you’d better get out of this room before you made any more blunders. 

Just before you could leave though, Zoro spoke again.

“You were practically begging through your eyes,” he said, and you could hear that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. 

“Next time, you’ll be begging with your mouth.”

That was the moment you knew: winner or not, this was going to end so poorly for you. 

***

A week and a half on, you were nearing the end of your rope. Zoro didn’t show any signs that he would be giving up anytime soon, and neither were you. You had expected as much, both being just about as stubborn as the other. 

Still, you desperately needed some relief and escape from the filthy thoughts haunting you day and night. Zoro’s taunts were starting to get to you and now you found your mind constantly wandering towards him and to all the things he could do to you, if you’d just give in and give up on this game. If this score wasn’t settled soon, you may well be the one to throw in the towel first, ego be damned. You couldn’t even fall asleep now, your mind too active to allow you to rest. 

After hours of tossing and turning in bed, you found yourself having to choose between two options. 

The first: sneak into the men’s quarters and get down to business with Zoro. 

The second: take a cold shower.

Thankfully, the rational part in you won over and decided on the latter.

But when you arrived at the bath, it looked like someone else had decided on the exact same thing. 

You heard footsteps just as you arrived at the door, and spun around only to find yourself standing face to face with the very cause of your insomnia. 

Zoro looked just as surprised as you, and the both of you opened your mouths at the same time.

“What are you doing–”

“Why are you awa—”

Your voices cut off, and an awkward silence creeped in as you studied each other, as if scrutinising an opponent in battle. 

Well, from the looks of it at least, Zoro didn’t seem like he had planned this. Not to mention, it was 4am in the morning; he was the last person who would hatch some kind of scheme while half-asleep. 

“It’s 4am,” you said, breaking the silence. “I thought you were all asleep.”

“I could say the same about you,” he replied evenly, folding his arms across his chest. That big, broad, muscular chest—

“I wanted to relax in the bath. Thought I’d be able to take my time while everyone was asleep.”

He cocked a brow at that, unconvinced. “You do this often?”

“Sometimes,” you lied, before quickly turning the tables on him. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Same reason as you.” 

“What, you take baths at 4am in the morning?”

“…Sometimes.”

Riiiiiiight. This was going nowhere. It was obvious enough that he was here for probably the same reason as you but you were far too tired to try to pull anything funny; all you wanted was to take a cold shower and try to get some sleep. 

“Okay well, I was here first, so you can come back after I’m done.” You opened the door to the bath barely wide enough for you to fit in, and you were about to enter when you felt him sidle up next to you, pushing the door open wider so the both of you could fit through the doorway.

You turned around, about to protest until you saw the cunning smile on his face.

Your heart dropped. No. No no no no. That look could only mean one thing. 

“The bath is big enough for the both of us,” he said breezily, before gesturing for you to enter. 

“Ladies first.”

Damn his stupid ego and competitiveness. Fine, if he really wanted to play with fire, who were you to deny him? 

A few minutes later, you were submerged in a hot bath, instead of the quick cold shower you had come here for. Both of you were seated at opposite ends of the bath, and the steam in the room made it hard to see your naked bodies beneath the surface of the hot bathwater. 

How long was he planning to stay here for, anyway? You didn’t really know where you could go from here, seeing as Zoro hadn’t appeared to be affected one bit by your little strip show earlier. He didn’t even bat an eyelid as you deliberately shook your hips while slipping off your panties, or look annoyed like he usually would when you kicked them his way. All he did in response was remove his shorts, giving you a nice view of what you had missed out on for the past week, before heading straight for the bath.

No thanks to that entirely un-sexy show of his, your mind was starting to fog up with various mental images again, and it didn’t help that he was right in front of you, a feast ready for you to dig into. 

This man would be the death of you, without a doubt.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked then, jerking you out of your thoughts. It was as if he knew where your head was at just seconds ago. 

“How annoying it is that you’re here,” you snapped right back at him. It was true; you had wanted the bath all to yourself and being both pent up and sleepy made for one very grumpy and impatient you. If Zoro’s plan was to get a rise out of you, boy was he going to get one if he intended on egging you on even further.

But, it seemed even Zoro could tell when he should stop. Instead of another teasing, mocking response you’d expected, his question sounded more genuine.

“Why? Because of the bet?” 

A pause. You mulled over your response for a second, before letting out a small sigh.

“Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. “I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

You heard him chuckle, that deep, bass voice echoing gently off the walls. “Hey, this was your idea. Don’t go blaming me now.”

It was a fair point, but you didn’t like being wrong. You ignored that remark, turning away and lowering yourself just enough so your mouth was submerged under the warm water.

You heard the water slosh then, the ripples of water tickling your body. Looking up, you realised Zoro was making his way towards you, and he stopped right in front of you, peering at your face and studying it. 

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I’m not,” you stubbornly denied. “I’m just grumpy because I’m sleepy.” 

“Sure you are.” He was probably thinking about what a brat you were – not that you would deny it. 

There was a moment of silence, before he spoke again.

“How about a truce?” 

Your eyes darted towards the man, widening in surprise. 

“What?” 

“The bet’s not worth making you this upset,” he explained. “Let’s call it off and think of another way to decide who gets the booze.”

“In that case, how about you just give me all the booze?”

Zoro’s eye turned hard as he glowered at you in disapproval. You couldn’t suppress the impish grin forming on your lips. 

“Nice try, but no,” he replied flatly. 

Yeah, you didn’t think it’d be that easy either. It was worth the shot though.

“So, what? We call a truce, and then?”

“Then we think of something else. Weren’t you listening?”

“I was,” you replied, rolling your eyes and focusing on creating tiny ripples in the water with your index finger. 

“I was just wondering if this was, maybe, your way of saying that you’re tired of the games and you want to just fuck me now.” 

There was a pause, then a gruff, “And if it is?” 

Caught off guard by his unexpected honesty, you found your head jerking in the man’s direction where you found him staring at you almost expectantly. One look was all you needed to know that he meant it, that if you agreed to the truce right then and there he would drop everything and take you without a second’s hesitation. 

“And what if I say no? If you’re this close to giving up I might as well get the booze while I’m at it.” 

“I’m not the one pouting because of this bet,” he responded with an eye roll. “If it comes down to it, I can wait this out better than you can.” There was no trace of a bluff in that voice. Zoro absolutely could, because once he set his mind on something, he would stick to it and no mountain could move him. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t nearly as resolved as he was, and he knew that too. 

“If we do a truce,” you said, choosing your words very carefully, “what’s the alternative? There’s no way we’re having a duel.”  

Zoro pondered over it for a minute or two, before a devilish grin formed on his face — one that made him look like a downright villain. 

“How about this? First one to cum loses.” 

Your eyes must have lit up then, making no effort to hide the fact that you had finally taken his bait. Still, you pretended to mull over it for a moment, letting him stew as he waited for your answer. 

It didn’t take long, as you were unable to resist the urge to look at him, your eyes tracing over the curves of his face, the lines of his hard muscle, and everything else that lay hidden beneath the steamy hot water. 

You were grinning before you even realised it, and you tipped your head down in a subtle nod, eyes never leaving his. 

“You’re on.” 

The sound of water splashing filled your ears, and then you felt arms encircle your waist, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. 

Your lips parted in a sharp gasp, and a split second later his lips came crashing down on yours, kissing you fiercely and passionately, just like you had wanted for so long now. 

It was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater for an eternity.

Zoro wasted no time, getting straight down to business. Your back was against the wall, the coolness of the surface a drastic change from the steamy water your body had been submerged in only seconds ago. With just one hand holding you up against the wall, his other hand was free to grab your hair and pull your head back in a sharp tug. The soft whimper that escaped you was silenced by his tongue that plunged into your mouth, sliding against yours in a teasing, sensual dance. It was a kiss that made it clear that he was in control, but you weren’t about to back down without a fight. Your fingers were in his wet hair, pulling him closer to you. When he pulled away for want of air, you were quick to catch his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping lightly before sweeping the tip of your tongue against it. 

“I missed this,” you murmured between your heavy pants, and he took a moment to rest his forehead against yours, slowing down just for a moment. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, his breaths hot against your cheeks. “Me too.” 

“I was starting to think you didn’t want me anymore,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder. It felt nice even like this, him holding you close in his arms and allowing you to hear his racing heartbeat. Your chest was swelling from the warmth, and it was hard to keep yourself from smiling a silly smile, one that you hid from his sight. 

“Why? Because I wasn’t giving in to your little tricks?” You felt his hand squeeze your thigh, while the other went to your hip, his thumb gently tracing circles against your skin. 

“Mhmm.” 

“I was having a hard time too, you know,” he said, his head moving slightly as he caught the shell of your ear between his teeth. Your body trembled when the tip of his tongue traced the outside of your ear, and he chuckled, pleased with your reaction. “You were driving me nuts.” 

“Really?” You perked up, raising your head to look at him. Zoro’s face was red, and had a frown etched into his skin now; it was his way of acting tough whenever you caught him in a vulnerable moment. 

“Why do you think I had to come here for a cold shower?” he shot back gruffly, before grinding his hips into you without warning.

Your head fell back as a moan escaped you, the sweet friction between his stiff member and your own throbbing centre making you crave for more. Zoro took the chance to lean into your neck, and you felt his lips on your skin. 

You let out a small whimper when he sucked hard, bruising the skin between his tongue and teeth. He was quick to soothe it over with a few tender licks over the sore spot, before nipping and sucking again. Zoro liked to mark you like this, and you had given up on chiding him for giving you these love bites in places where your crewmates could see. He wouldn’t listen, and you suspected he simply enjoyed the thought of people knowing that you were his, and his alone. 

By the time he was done, you didn’t need to look to know that the mark was going to be there for days. Not that you really cared at the moment; you had other more pressing things to worry about—namely, his cock pressing up against your ass. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he continued, pressing kisses up the column of your neck and along your jaw. “All I could think about was fucking you and taking you rough, the way you like it.” 

You had almost forgotten how good Zoro was at talking dirty, and hearing it now when all you could think of was him pounding into you had you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. You couldn’t move though, as much as you wanted to grind your hips against his again. The man had you firmly in place against the wall and you were helpless, completely at his mercy. 

“What else did you think about?” you found yourself asking, the words leaving you before you registered it. 

You heard him chuckle, and then he suddenly lifted you high enough to rest your thighs on his shoulders, his head settling nicely between your legs. You let out a shriek at the sudden movement, but Zoro didn’t let you fall — of course he wouldn’t. He had you securely in his grip, one that you wouldn’t be able to escape from. 

With a wicked grin, he met your wide eyes and his mouth drew closer to your wet cunt.

“I imagined getting a taste of you, while you scream my name and beg me to let you cum.” 

His answer took your breath away, and you nearly came apart when you felt his hot tongue dip into your slick folds.

“Z-Zoro!”

His name was like a prayer on your lips as you cried out over and over. Zoro was relentless as he lapped at you, tongue sucking and swirling around your sensitive clit. Sparks of electricity were flying on your skin, your mind emptying and leaving nothing but hunger for more of him, for the release that you had been missing for so long. It had your toes curling, legs tensing but Zoro’s arms were stronger, keeping your thighs locked in place and your legs spread wide enough that he had full access to your dripping cunt. 

You were close to coming already, him having riled you up and provoked you sufficiently that release was all you could think about. With nothing else to hold on to, your fingers found purchase in his hair and pulled him closer to you, a wordless plea for him to give you more. 

Zoro was never one to disappoint. You felt his fingers plunge into you then, and you nearly saw stars behind your eyes as he fucked you with his fingers, the sound of your wet juices echoing off the walls.

“You’re so wet for me,” he remarked, his deep voice vibrating against your swollen clit and making you moan. “Ready to cum yet?” 

No… The bet… You had just agreed to it and you were already going to lose in such a one-sided manner.

But you were rapidly slipping away, losing to the building tension in your abdomen and the climax that was waiting for you. You needed it. You needed him desperately, and in that moment, with your mind clouded over with desire, you seriously considered giving up the bet. Was it really worth it, when you had all this? 

You didn’t get the chance to decide. Zoro’s tongue and fingers abruptly stopped the magic that they were working on your body, and before you could let out a whine in protest, he was setting you down gentle on the edge of the bath, and spreading your legs again to rest your ankles on his shoulders while he positioned himself between your legs. 

He hissed as he slid his throbbing member against your slit, and you couldn’t resist reaching down to touch him. Zoro’s husky groan was music to your ears as your fingers slipped down his slick, wet shaft, the swollen tip of his cock pressing into the centre of your palm. It was impressive how hard he’d become in such a short span of time, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a surge of pride well up in you, knowing that you had this much of an effect on him. 

Your hands began working on him this time, returning the favour, and you studied his expressions avidly, licking your lips at the sight. His abdominal muscles were clenching as you used both hands to wrap around his thick shaft and pump it at a steady pace. Before long his hips were moving as well, following the rhythm of your hands as his heavy breaths grew harsher. 

“Fuck,” he cussed, when your grip tightened around him as you began pumping faster. “That’s good.” 

“Are you going to cum soon, or do I have to use my mouth? You teased, to which he smirked. 

“No need. I can think of somewhere else I’d like to put it in.” 

Placing his hand over yours, you released, he grunted as he positioned his tip at your entrance. The seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, waiting for him to move. 

He didn’t, instead choosing to slide his member at an agonisingly slow pace against your slit. His tip prodded your entrance a few times, only to move away, leaving you wanting and increasingly frustrated. 

“Zoro,” you whined, hands gripping his forearms. He was doing this on purpose, that much was obvious when his gaze, hot and heavy, fell on you and the corners of his lips twitched upwards in amusement. 

“Is that how you ask someone for a favour?” 

Damn it. You knew instantly what he was referring to: the promise he’d made back in the crow’s nest, after your spectacular failure at keeping a cool, composed exterior around the man. 

You would be glaring at him if he hadn’t spun you around right then, so his cock was sliding along the crack of your ass while he pressed your palms against the wall. 

Your bravado crumbled easily when you felt his chest press into your back, while his hands slipped past your waist to give your breasts a nice, hard squeeze. A roll of your pert nipples between his fingers had you sighing in pleasure, and your hips grinding back against his stiff member. It wasn’t enough to make him move, to get him to enter you. He was waiting for you to say the magic words. 

“Zoro, please,” you whined, neck turning back as far as you could to catch a glimpse of his face. 

Not good enough. He still didn’t move. 

“Come on, I want you to fuck me, please?” 

Still not good enough. You cried out when he pinched down hard on your nipples.

“Say it like you mean it,” he murmured in a raspy voice by your ear. “Tell me what you really want.” 

He really was the worst. 

With flaming cheeks, you ducked your head down and whispered in a voice that was barely audible: 

“I want you to make me cum.”

That seemed to do the trick. In the next instant his hands fell to your waist as he entered you, burying himself to the hilt with a single forward thrust of his hips. Your eyes squeezed shut, a scream of his name tearing from your lips while he groaned into your neck. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” 

No more words were exchanged then, the bathroom only filled with the sound of your breaths, moans and the sound of sex as he rammed into you again and again. Every time you felt like your knees would give way, Zoro would keep a tight grip on your waist, holding you firmly in position. He was rough, strong, his stamina limitless as he pounded into you at a steady, rapid pace. 

You had been with Zoro long enough that you could tell he was getting close to his release. You just needed to hold on for a bit longer, although it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the buzzing of the orgasm that was just within reach. It didn’t help at all that Zoro was already familiar with your body, knowing exactly how to angle himself and how deep to thrust into you to get you to your climax as quickly as possible. 

And when his hand slipped down from your breast to rub at your swollen, sensitive clit, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you came undone. 

You began moving your hips too, meeting his thrusts with your own and clenching down on him, which made him choke back a groan, the sound muffled when he sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You weren’t about to make this that easy for him, after all. 

“Ready to lose yet?” you asked.

“That should be my line,” he replied with a low chuckle. 

His fingers began to pick up the speed, rubbing vigorously at your clit as his thrusts became faster, quicker, more impatient. You tried your best to hold on but you were practically teetering off the edge of a cliff, about to fall off at any moment now. 

Somewhere along the way, you stopped fighting it, losing yourself to the pleasure that he was giving you, and before long you felt the familiar sensation of your building orgasm, pooling low in your abdomen, ready to burst. 

“Come for me,” were the final words you heard in your ear, before you finally couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips snapped forward with a forceful thrust, filling you deeper than before, and then you lost it. You wailed his name, walls clenching hard around him as your climax hit you hard enough that your vision nearly went white. At almost the same time you felt him still, his warm seed filling you in two long spurts. 

Zoro’s thrusts began to slow down but he continued to move, riding out the wave of your combined orgasm and you let him, following his pace and gradually coming down from your high. 

Eventually, he stopped, and the moment he loosened his grip on your body, you nearly tumbled forward, legs having lost its strength to hold your weight.

Thankfully he caught you quickly enough to stop your fall, and pulled you back with him into the inviting warmth of the steaming warm water. He was still inside you, seeming content with the position as he kept his arms circled around your waist to keep you in his lap as he sat down, submerging yourselves in the bath. 

You leaned back with a satisfied sigh, body limp against his chest as he pressed lazy kisses into the junction where your neck met your shoulders. The exhaustion was finally starting to get to you, your eyelids growing heavy for want of sleep. What time was it, anyway? 

But more importantly…

“I think that was a tie,” you concluded, and you felt Zoro’s chest rumble with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, before thrusting up into you again without warning. Still sensitive from your orgasm just moments ago, you let out a sharp gasp from the overstimulation. 

“Hey! What was that for—”

“How about another round to determine the winner?” 

“But I’m tired,” you protested, slapping lightly at his forearms that were still wrapped tightly around your torso. “Can’t we do this tomorrow? After we get some sleep?”

“Go ahead and sleep. I’m sure I can still make you cum.” 

“Zoro!” 

“What?” 

Your protests promptly died in your throat when you felt him push deeper into you again, this time spreading your legs apart and running his hands up and down your inner thigh. As much as you hated to admit it, Zoro was getting your engine revved up and ready to go again. 

“Come on, just one more round. Or, are you too chicken to keep playing?” 

Lies. It was never “just one more round” with him. Knowing him, he didn’t intend on letting you get a wink of sleep at all. 

Despite that, Zoro had a way of convincing you to go along with his whims, and you found that you sucked at saying “no” to him.

Turning around just enough that you could see his stupidly smug face, your defiant answer to his challenge was a sweet kiss to his lips, and a run of your tongue against his. He kissed you back, swallowing your soft moans as his hand inched upwards towards your centre once more. 

***

When morning came, you found yourself lying on your side, your back snug against Zoro’s chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. You were lying in a makeshift bed in the crow’s nest which basically consisted of a messy pile of his clean clothes. 

The previous night’s activities were slowly coming back to you, evident in the ache in your lower half and the love bites all over your chest. No doubt, you’d find many more on your shoulders and neck once you found a mirror; this man tended to go overboard and last night had been pretty extreme. 

Zoro must have overexerted himself too, for he was snoring behind you, deep in sleep. You couldn’t help but smile, enjoying this moment of peace and quiet with him; it had been a while since you got to cuddle with him. While Zoro wasn’t exactly averse to the idea, usually it took a lot of convincing for him to agree. 

And it usually took just as much convincing — if not more — for him to let you go. 

You felt him stir the moment you tried to pry his arms off you, and they promptly tightened at the same time that you felt his lips kiss the spot just underneath your ear.

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep here.”

You groaned, but it didn’t sound at all begrudging. How could it? He was so cute when he got like this. Still, you were getting restless in this position and you wanted to stretch after the number he did on you in the bath. 

Again, you tried to peel his arms off your waist, but they wouldn’t budge. You knocked your fist lightly against his arm in response. 

“Zoro. Zoro. Hey.” 

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbled grumpily, pulling you even closer to him and tightening his grip on you.

“I need to stretch, I’m sore everywhere.”

“Do it later.” 

“Ugh.” You tried once again, fruitlessly, to loosen his hold on you. There was just no winning with this stubborn man. 

Eventually, you gave up with a huff, and settled back into silence when you were reminded of something. 

“Right. The bet. Who won?” you asked, tapping on his forearm to get his attention.

“I did,” he replied without any hesitation at all. The jerk.

“I’m serious, who won? I feel like we were tied at every round.”

“Let’s just say I won.” 

“Nice try, but no.”

“Whatever. Let’s just split it equally. This bet’s becoming a pain in the ass.” 

“It’s a pain in mine, not yours,” you corrected him, and he had the gall to laugh at that. 

“So? Split it?” 

“Fine,” you agreed. “We’ll split it. Now let go of me; I’m hungry for some breakfast.”

“No.”

He could really be such a brat sometimes. “Zoro…” 

Ignoring the undisguised irritation in your tone, he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, before resting his chin on your shoulder. “Then, how about we make another bet?” he asked, and you shivered at the ticklish sensation of his breath ghosting across your bare skin. 

“What bet?”

“First one to leave this bed loses.” 

“Oh?” you cocked a brow at the suggestion. “And what’s in it for the winner?”

You felt him smile against your skin, and he pressed a soft kiss into your shoulder before leaning in to whisper something in your ear. 

“Booze.” 

You couldn’t hold it in, not with this man. You burst into giggles then, rolling to your side to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and to pull yourself flush against his hard body.

His challenging gaze was met with a look of defiance of your own, chin tipping up as your lips spread into a smirk that mirrored his.

“Game on.” 

[flower-boi16]

What’s an example of a HB episode you thought was written well, and an episode you thought was written terribly? Can be a fun thought exercise

I think season 1's episodes are decently enjoyable even if the season shows clear signs of the problems that would be made more obvious in season 2. I mainly liked episode 2, I thought it was a heartfelt episode exploring Stolas' relationship with Octavia and the scene where Stolas talks to Octavia is actually pretty sweet.

As for an episode that was written terribly...well, I've said it before that I don't like this episode so I might as well just state my reasoning for this.

I think Oops is the worst episode of the show. Of all the episodes so far, it's the one with the most issues I can name. It's definitely the worst-written episode of the show.

First problem: the pacing. It's waaaay too damn fast. It feels like none of the scenes have a chance to breathe because we need to get to point A to B as fast as possible. And this is a problem that will be made worse once we get to a certain scene.

Then there's the Stolas and Asmodeus subplot...

Why? Why does this subplot exist? What's the point of it if Stolas and Asmodeus weren't even going to do anything throughout the whole episode? This could have literally been something that was happening off-screen, we didn't need to cut back to it throughout the episode.

Then we get the reveal of the incident that broke Blitz and Fizzarolli's friendship, where Blitz accidentally set the whole circus on fire permanently making Fizzoroli lose his limbs...

Here's why this scene doesn't work; it has no impact. The bad pacing combined with the tonal problems make this scene have no impact whatsoever, the show never even builds up to this reveal, it just randomly slaps you in the face with a 10-second flashback and you aren't given much time to process it.

This also leads me to my next problem with this episode; the resolution to Blitz and Fizzarolli's friendship feels insanely rushed, there's a 10-second flashback about what happened and then they just forgive each other like that. Do you see what I mean when I say this episode is badly paced?

Then there is the worst scene in the episode. The one where while Blitz and Fizzarolli are in the cell, Blitz vents about how Stolas pretends to like him despite only wanting to have sex with Blitz and nothing else even though he supposedly does all these nice things to Blitz.

Do you want to know why I don't like this scene? Simple; It's a retcon. The entire point of Blitz and Stolas's relationship in season 1 was that Stolas only wanted to sleep with Blitz and nothing else, to turn around and say "oh look Stolas did all of these nice things for Blitz guys!" feels like an attempt to try and make Stolitz look less toxic than it really is. We are told that Stolas did all of these nice things for Blitz, rather than shown. It's lazy.

Then there's the next problem with this scene; the show treats Blitz as though he is in the wrong for thinking Stols only loves him for his dick and nothing else. The show gaslights Blitz for being upset at this and it's kinda gross? Like the show is getting mad at a victim for getting mad at their abuser for only being interested in them for sex, I don't know if I would say this is victim blaming...but still.

Oh I'm still not done, because then after that scene we get the reveal that Blitz had a knife in his shoe the whole time and-

WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE IF HE HAD THAT THIS WHOLE TIME THEN WHY DIDN'T HE USE IT EARLIER??!?! WHY WASN'T PULLING THIS THING OUT THE FIRST THING HE DID WHEN WE GOT INTO THE CELL??!

Also wow, just how convenient that Blitzo has this in his shoe when we've never seen him use it before so they could escape. Wow, that is totally not contrived and lazy writing at all.

I know this post turned into me ranting about Oops, but I think the episode is an example of how badly written the show is mainly in season 2. There are probably more problems I can name when I rewatch it, and the fact that the fandom hailed this as an amazing episode is just...baffling to me.

Especially when the episode decides to ignore the whole point of Blitz and Stolas' relationship in season 1 and retcons it to make the ship look less toxic than it actually is.

[thefandomenchantress]

HAPPY NEW YEARS ENA!!!!!! Since its New Years, how do you think everyone will celebrate it?

God damn it’s so far past new years. Sorry I somehow didn’t see this until now, but better 2 and a half months late than never…?

———

Teruko Tawaki: Regularly forgets its New years. She had more important things to worry about on the run, but at Hope’s Peak she tried to join in on the festivities and pretend she cared. She enjoyed being invited to a party for once.

Xander Matthews: …It was never the same celebrating after his family died. Just like how everything else wasn’t the same. Another year without them. Yay. Being surrounded by friends at Hope’s Peak helped get his mind off things, though, and he brought some alcohol to the class party. Unless the school staff asks, in that case he totally didn’t.

Charles Cuevas: It never held too much importance to him. He did find it annoying how he had to remember to write a different year every time he tried to write down the date, because he’d often forget and have to rewrite it. Whit convinced him to celebrate New Years with the class, and he had a decent bit of fun.

Ace Markey: He gets extremely existential, unsurprisingly. Being reminded of the passage of time makes him anxious, so he’s not the biggest fan. He went to the party and was one of few to not drink Xander’s totally-not-alcoholic beverages, and from listening to what everyone was saying while intoxicated he knows many more secrets than he should.

Arei Nageishi: Probably throws confetti at midnight and then makes someone else (Eden) pick it up. New Years never garnered much fanfare at home, but she joined Ace in not drinking and took many photos for blackmail—Er, totally not malicious purposes.

Rose Lacroix: Falls asleep waaaay before midnight and misses all the festivities. She went to the party, but ended up falling asleep at the snack table. Eventually she got woken up by Nico right before midnight, and as soon as that was over she made a beeline for her dorm. A bed sounded nice.

Hu Jing: She enjoyed spending time with her family, even if she thought staying up that late could be exhausting. At Hope’s Peak she was just trying to make sure nobody died during the party, which was surprisingly hard. Still, the promise of a New Year, full of new possibilities did bring her a bit of excitement. She’s overcome with the joy of the realization she’s made it this far and managed to make so many new, valuable connections.

Eden Tobisa: An excuse to celebrate something with her close family and friends?!? Count her in! She likes it not only because of her birthday, but because she loves the feeling of new beginnings and a chance to turn everything even better. She loved seeing everyone spending time together and having fun at the party.

Levi Fontana: He isn’t too passionate about the holiday, but he likes to make New Year’s resolutions and trying to improve himself. He’s in the 2% minority of people who don’t give up on their resolutions a month in. He joins Hu in trying to make sure nobody dies at the party.

Arturo Giles: He likes to see what celebrity is on TV and preforming a New Year’s Eve show, but other than that he’s not very interested. He didn’t want to go to the party, but Veronika dragged him along. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t want to be there.

Min Jeung: In the past, she mostly just spent New Years studying, unsurprisingly. One year closer to seeing if she would become the Ultimate Student. She ended up hiding under a table and reading during the party, eventually joined by Teruko.

David Chiem: Time to profit off of everyone’s newfound desire to change themselves for the better! While this time of year has his business more profitable than usual, that means to maximize profits he has to work more, which he finds exhausting. He finds everything about this time of year exhausting. At the party, he ended up kissing Xander…Ten bucks says neither of them remember by morning.

Veronika Grebenshchikova: Horror movie marathon until midnight, naturally. She finds the New Year ever-so-slightly exciting, she supposes. At the party, she tries to get everyone to play truth or dare and proceeds to either try and make them reveal incredibly personal secrets or do incredibly dangerous things. Xander is the only one who tries one of her dares, but ends up getting stopped before the can accidentally hurt himself.

J Rosales: Another year with her Mom, great…She was pretty neutral on New Years in the past, honestly. She went to the party and had a decent bit of fun, and once again made the New Year’s resolution to go to the gym more so she could get really buff and shit (She rarely follows through for more than a month or so, but she’s planning to ask Levi if he could be her gym partner and she hopes she’ll be too prideful to quit if someone else is doing it with her).

Whit Young: Used to spend New Years alone at home. He is now making the most of having friends around, and gleefully goes to the party. He teases a lot of people about who they’re going to kiss at midnight, but mostly gets responses asking about if he’s going to finally make a move on Charles and he immediately gets flustered and changes the subject.

Nico Hakobyan: They usually aren’t thrilled about spending five extra hours around people when they just want to go to bed. They begrudgingly attend the party after much contemplation, because they get nervous they’ll miss out on something and regret it later. They end up sleeping at the snack table with Rose for most of it.

———

Thank you for the happy new year, by the way! I hope you have…er, had a happy new year, too! Thanks for the ask!

[creelteeth]

( dear casey, i was going to send a single fucking sentence but it got waaaay outta hand. enjoy. )

can you imagine lovesick! stevie full on acting like his best friend’s boyfriend; def believes they’re soulmates. she’s in love with him too, but being in her early twenties and never having had any romantic validation has made it so her mind doesn’t even entertain the possibility of him feeling the same, so she settles for making her best friend happy 🥺🥺 because her stevie deserves to be happy 🥺🥺

she always praises him, gives him her favorite ring that he wears it on his left ring finger, makes him a pretty pressed flower necklace with his birth flower on it, she gives him pretty rocks!!! and anything else she finds that remind her of her stevie!!!, she’s very shy and subby subby only with steve though so she blushes every time he so much as looks at her :( defends him if anyone makes fun of him or insults him, remembers every little thing he tells her, loves hugging him and kissing his cheeks, is always clinging to him— she’s so fucking cute with him it’s sickening, really :(

and steve? steve calls her “his girl” and “angel”, he writes poems about her, he holds her hand, has her sit on his lap always!!!, he showers her in gifts and takes her on “friend” dates that he secretly considers real dates, pet names all the time!!!, kisses her cheeks and forehead and jaw and hands and arms and head and nose, he’s a cuddle bug with her, 100% touch starved when it comes to his sweet girl, loves taking polaroids with her, has one he took of her wearing his yellow sweater and sleeping with her head on his lap on his wallet and lots all over his room, even one in his car. he makes her mixtapes!!!!!!!!!! sleepovers often and they always wake up cuddling each other :( he spoils her rotten :( she’s his whole world :( he doesn’t give a fuck if everyone can tell how head over heels he is :( since he met her he hasn’t so much as looked at anyone else unless it’s platonic with a capital p :(

steve doesn’t try to hide his feelings :( at all :( he knows she’s self-conscious and doesn’t believe he could like love her, so he flirts and teases and is soft and affectionate because he wants to worship her and show her how good he can be for her :( and that she deserves all the love in the world :( deserves to be worshipped 😫😫😫 he loves her so much but won’t make the first move because his sweet baby is entirely inexperienced so her wants her to be so sure of her feelings that she makes the first move

he makes this known to her tho !!! slowly he confesses more and more of his feelings for her :( doesn’t want to scare her away, but also wants her to know he’s hers :( she laughs off his flirting often tho always always always blushes and gets flustered but one day when she jokingly says something along the lines of “you can’t live without me” and steve goes all soft and earnest and smiles at her and says “true. i can’t. would never want to.” and it leads to steve telling her he thinks she’s his soulmate and she almost cries :(((((

fast forward a few weeks later— they’re still the best of friends, obsessed with each other really, glued to the other and so so so affectionate but oh so codependent they don’t mind tho and maybe someone pokes fun at steve’s angel for never having had a boyfriend and she doesn’t care to be honest! truly, she doesn’t! …or at least she didn’t use to…?

…being in a relationship was never something she considered pursuing because she has very high standards, shes neurodivergent so she doesn’t think anyone would want to deal with that, she’s demisexual/demiromantic aka only develops sexual or romantic feelings if a previous emotional connection is made steve!!!!!! and only ever had very fleeting, passing crushes that didn’t mean much so she never cared that out of everyone she knew she was the only one that hasn’t been kissed, but now? now that she’s so overwhelmingly in love with her best friend? now the jokes and teasing got to her :( because she wants him to be her boyfriend so badly :( so when she gets made fun of steve can tell it hurt so he steps up and defends her, maybe the person throws a “so you’d date her?” expecting steve to back out and steve goes “i should be so lucky” or something and grabs his girl’s hand and walks away with her :((((

so then steve notices while they walk through a park to calm down that his baby is crying she’s a crybaby and hates confrontation so he goes full caretaker mode and cuddles her close and starts reassuring her and full on confesses to her that he meant it and he’d be honored to be her boyfriend and anyone with a brain would be too :( and she gets overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to do and she wants him so badly but she’s so afraid of these new feelings and steve knows! of course her stevie knows! so he kisses her cheeks and tells her he just needed her to know and he’d always be her best friend no matter what so they move on from that convo so she can fully calm down :(

okay, so a couple weeks go by and steve has been very obviously giving her hints that he has feelings for her more so than usual; he wants to show her how much and how well he can love her if she’d just give him a chance, and that he’s willing to wait for her 🤯🤯🤯 and she slowly warms up to it, to the idea of really having him, of being his, and one day steve is being his usual funny, playful, flirty, loving dork that he is and he does or says something overly sweet to her but that he clearly means and she… just… kisses him :(

and steve is stunned because he truly didn’t expect it and he was so intent on showering her with love that he didn’t make a big deal out of waiting and he had been forcing himself to not think too much about when or where or how they’d go from friends to lovers if they even would at all but her lips as so soft and she’s so shy and oh my god it’s happening and he’s melting into her but she’s still unsure of herself so she pulls back way too quickly for his liking and apologizes and says she was planning on asking for his consent first before kissing him but she is so gone for him that it just happened and hhhhhhhhhh 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 and steve decides that pressing his lips to hers is his favorite way to shut her up 😵‍💫🤯🤤😫😭

and as soon as he pulls back she asks “do you wanna be my boyfriend” in the sweetest, softest, most endearing voice he’s ever heard and he goes “so fucking badly” so his baby asks “then will you please?” and he says yes before kissing her again 😭😭😭

HARMONIA !! this was a gift. A GIFT. i am so soft for this man and the way you write him.