#but i just had to sneak in through my own side door to avoid her so i’m feeling pretty bad right now

[comfymoth]

i know i don’t usually sadpost on main, this blog is my silly little play place and i hate to kill the vibe, but. i dunno. i’m just having a really tough few days.

it’s difficult to go into detail, mostly because the way it happened was so complicated and confusing, but last night my mother rejected me for being trans. pretty harshly. i wasn’t even coming out, i officially came out for the first time in middle school, this wasn’t news, but she pretended it was, and went back on every single previous conversation and bit of progress.

i already wasn’t in a great place. it’s been a really difficult year for my mental health, and i’m struggling a lot with my senior year of college. obviously the election was a gut punch. so i just feel like i’ve been kicked while i’m down.

i’m not even totally sure why i’m posting this. i guess it just feels better to air it. i’m having such a hard time processing it, it’s like i just have to keep repeating it out loud. sorry for that.

i don’t know. i’ll try to get back to goofing around soon. i like having fun with you guys and i don’t want to just wallow in how bad this feels, so hopefully we can get back to sillier posts tomorrow, but. yeah. i guess if anyone’s been wondering how i’m doing, that’s just my update

[ashlynlovestlou]

ellie fucking you in the middle of the night <3

cw: smut , nsfw , men dni , strap usage , reader sits on ellie's face , dom! ellie , sub! reader , kinda vanilla , reader and ellie's relationship is a secret , y/n used (im sorry) , sitting on ellie's face

masterlist

daily click

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the problem is, you dont want to keep things casual. you said it because it felt like a thing you should say when you start fucking your best friend. now, you're lying in bed wearing ellie's shirt, wishing shed sneak down the stairs and crawl in with you.

you try to talk yourself out of it so many times. you'd already almost got caught once. but your body doesn't care and neither does your heart. you want her hands in your hair, her warm skin against your own.

which is why you creep through a dark house and up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid any creaking that might wake up joel. one peek into his room at the top of the stairs and you see him sprawled like a starfish. your lips curve up at the sight and then you very, very gently shut his bedroom door before padding down to the secondary bedroom as the opposite end of the hallway.

the door is closed and no light shines from beneath. you twist the handle and walk right in. her curtains are open and ambient light from outside filters in through the massive windows. the door clicks shut behind you and you walk across to the king-sized bed. much like joel, she is all long, muscular limbs stretched out in the middle.

unlike joel, you don't turn away.

you press one knee onto the mattress and crawl in her direction. ellie's breaths are deep, and the entire bed has a faint sandalwood smell. you think you'd settle for just lying here beside her, breathing her in.

instead, you kneel at her side. soaking her in, so relaxed. she looks younger—more carefree—like this.

with one hand, you trail the tip of your fingers over her lips—just like you did every time joel had his back on the two of you. a simple gesture, just to remind her you were there, even if it was for a moment.

ellie's big strong hand flies up, steely fingers wrapping around your wrist, "y/n."

it's not a question. she knows it's you.

"hi."

"what are you doing?" she asks from behind closed eyes.

"touching you."

her lips curve up into a sinful smile, "i thought you wanted to keep things casual in front of joel."

"right." you whisper, "it's just that i thought about it and decided being casual is overrated. i want you to touch me too."

a raspy chuckle spills from her as her green eyes open and dive into your own. chills erupt from the back of your neck, racing down your spine and over your arms.

"so, what now?" she asks beneath a quirked brow.

"i don't know." you suddenly feel nervous. you snuck up there with no plan, only knowing you wanted to be close to her, "do you want me to leave?"

she stares at you extra hard now. it's borderline unnerving. the weight of her stare. the way your stomach flip-flops under her attention. you've never felt this way before.

"no, y/n. i want you up here." her voice is soft and deep as she reaches for you. broad hands circle your waist and you squeal as she hauls you on to her, so you're straddling her torso.

"gonna need you to be quiet, baby." she murmurs as her palms slide up over your quads, tips of her fingers dipping inside your underwear at your hips.

all you can do is nod, lick your lips, and watch how good her hands look roaming over your body.

"n-now what?" you practically stutter.

"now you're going to hold on tight to that headboard, sit on my face, and try to keep your mouth shut while i make you come."

before you can respond, she's moved you up, yanked the gusset of you panties to the side, and has her tongue in your pussy.

you gasp and fall forward, holding the headboard like she instructed, more out of needing something to hold on to than because you're good at following directions.

your head falls back when her teeth graze you clit. she palms your ass and holds you close, like she's eating her favorite fruit. her eagerness does nothing but drive you even more wild.

"hmmm," you hum, trying to cover for the string of expletives currently sitting on the tip of your tongue. your thighs shake with the strain of holding yourself over her and fingers dig in hard.

ellie pulls away, only to grumble at you in that deep tone. "baby, i said be quiet. and stop being polite. i told you to sit on my face." the hand gripping your underwear yanks you down hard so that you're fully seated.

she sucks your clit and your body bows into her. her hand slides up from your ass, over your hip, stomach, and up to your breast, where she gently caresses you. she holds you. touches you.

she gives your nipple a good, firm twist that has you gasping and grinding against her mouth. all the response you get is a satisfied growl against your core as she continues to lick, and suck, and tease.

you ride her shamelessly. she told you to stop being polite, and so you do. you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of her skin on yours. the smell of her wrapped around you.

there's something empowering in asking for what you want. to be touched when you want. and you're drunk on that—drunk on her—when everything inside you clenches. when that pressure builds so quickly, so intensely, you can't hold back... you shatter.

you feel like you blew apart into a million little pieces. your skin is hot, your eyelids feel heavy. and as much as you try to stay quiet, you can't.

her hand shoots up over your mouth and you slump into it, using her arm to prop yourself up while you cling to the headboard.

"ellie," you whisper as she moves you down. her limbs are moving and there's fabric rustling around you, but you're too incoherent to keep up, "ellie."

"y/n, baby. i told you to stay quiet."

your brain is too addled to care. "more." you fold yourself over her, dropping your head into the crook of her neck and kissing her there. your teeth graze over the lobe of her ear, and you realize she's removed her boxers while you blacked out. and, she had put on her strap that she conveniently kept in her nightstand.

"more?"

you nod, feeling her throat move against your forehead as he swallows. "more."

her hands move firmly, all business, as she removes your underwear. then she sits up, leaning against the headboard and taking you with her.

you can feel her hard length propped against your ass as she positions the two of you.

her eyes stay on your face as she reaches down to grip the hem of her shirt. the one she gave you to sleep in when she walked you to the guest room door and told you it might help you miss her less. right before she smirked that annoying, i'm-right-and-you-know-it smirk of hers.

she wasn't, though. which is why you're here.

your body coils with anticipation again as ellie's gaze rakes over your bare skin.

her hands roam slowly yet purposefully. over your arms, your collarbones. reading you like braille. you think she's always been able to, and you just didn't know it.

"i'm not sure you can handle more, baby." she kisses your chest as your hands move in tandem, feeling her in a way you didn't get to earlier. "you're not very good at keeping quiet."

"i'll be good," you murmur, grinding your pussy back on her and feeling her steely silicon dick twitch against your ass.

suddenly her lips are on your nipples and your hands are raking through her hair. she reaches between the two of you, urging you up onto your knees, you move obediently, and in return, you're rewarded by the sensation of her faux cock sliding against your pussy.

back and forth. back and forth. your eyes flutter shuts she tortures you. one hand grips your shoulder while the other is fisted around her length. you swivel your hips, feeling her crown notch inside you.

"goddamn, honey. you're even better than i fucking dreamed," she mutters roughly. then she shoves herself in, and you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. because no one and nothing has ever felt this good.

your eyes snap open as your body adjusts. the light sight of her taking you so roughly has the blood thrumming through your veins at a rapid pace. your heart pounding even harder than before.

you stare at each other. her cock is buried deep inside you his.

"move, y/n. show me how bad you want it."

your pelvis undulates because you do want it. you lift and you drop back down, feeling every thick inch of her as you do. reveling in the way her eyes widen before taking on a more hooded appearance.

what starts off slow and deliberate comes apart at the seams. hands that were searching are now gripping.

breathing that was even is now choppy. everything is hot and damp as you writhe together in silence.

you don't need words. they wouldn't do justice to something that feels like this anyway.

"you're gonna come on my cock now, aren't you, baby?" she growls roughly, breathlessly, against your ear. your body shudders in response. "i can tell. your eyes give it away, even in the dark. then every muscle on you goes all tight. you ride me so damn hard. so eager. so warm. so fucking tight."

you're so full of her. her words. her body. it's too much, and right when youre about to go barreling over that edge again, she kisses you soundly, swallowing the sound of you screaming her name as you come.

with a fist full of your hair, she pumps into you hard.

spilling herself, filling you up thoroughly right as your orgasm rocks you. flays you. leaves you slumped in her arms, desperately trying to catch your breath.

you don't know how long the two of you stay like that. you straddling her lap, her cock snugly inside you, clinging to each other and kissing. slow, languid, deliberate kisses that make your throat ache with their tenderness. eventually they slow and ellie tolls you off her carefully.

always carefully. even when she's rough with you, shes so damn intentional. you feel nothing short of pampered with her. and when she gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, the point is only driven further home.

"what are you doing?" you breathe the words, trying to stay quiet as she comes to kneel between your splayed legs.

"taking care of you."

the warm cloth swipes over your swollen core and you let out a soft moan. "you don't need to do that."

she continues wiping you gently. "but i want to."

you're struck silent by such a simple sentence.

you lie in ellie's bed, letting her take care of you. and when she's finished, she lifts the covers, crawls in behind you, and holds your body against hers all night long.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo, "i want you, nobody else" at a party

prized cow II a.russo

"what about her? or him? or her? or her? or him?" you rolled your eyes at the younger girls insistent pointing, smacking her hand down and shaking your head.

"none of them?" vic gasped in shock, two drinks too many having her squinting up at you as you couldn't help but chuckle. "no shock you're single mate, standards are too high." kyra added on with a tut as you shoved her where you were stuck sat between them.

"its not them-" "-its you!" kyra and vic chimed out in sync, sharing a look and bursting out laughing causing your cheeks to heat up bright red. "shut up! i'm not that predictable. am i?" you mumbled, necking your drink as the dutch beside you patted your leg.

"you are." both of them spoke in sync again, their loud rambunctious laughter having you wince, thankfully drowned out by the thundering bass pumping in the club you'd all met up at for katies birthday.

thing one and thing two still continuing on their mission to hook you up with a stranger, something you'd long given up begging them to stop, you caught lia's eye across the room as she glanced over, giving her a pleading look which had her lips curling in amusement.

"you two!" the girls beside you fell silent as the swiss appeared, giving them a stern look and pointing her thumb behind her, how quickly vic and kyra cleared off making you grin as lia replaced them sitting beside you.

"what is wrong hm? you have been sat here all night!" lia questioned as you snaked a mouthful of her drink before she snatched it away. "i have not! i was dancing with your girlfriend and laia just ten minutes ago. the girlfriend you haven't even told half the team about!" you teased as she gave you a look.

"stop deflecting." "i am not!"

another look.

"fine. i'm just sick of everyone trying to set me up with someone, why won't they just mind their own business and leave my love life to me?" you huffed moodily, crossing one leg over the other and exhaling.

"they're just trying to help-" "i don't need help! i'm happy, i am." you pushed with a frown, lia slinging an arm over you as you sighed and leaned into her.

"i will have a word to the girls about backing off." the older girl murmured, pinching your cheek as a small smile crept back onto your face. "thank you." you gave her a side hug, a sense of relief beginning to settle in.

"besides. i already told you, ana is single!" you leapt away from the swiss with a grimace on your face. "lia!" you huffed in betrayal as she grinned, downing the last of her drink.

"only joking." she assured patting your knee and starting to stand to head over to the bar. "you are not her type anyway!" the swiss winked, disappearing to grab another drink as you shouted after her and flipped her off.

catching kyra and vic speaking to rosa you noticed all three seemed to be trying to sneak glances over to you, and not wanting to wait around and see what they were plotting you quickly stood and made a beeline toward the bathroom.

once inside you exhaled heavily, the moment the door slammed behind you the quiet that followed much needed to help you clear your head as you started toward the sink.

before you could even take another breath the door banged open again, a blonde blur zooming through and slamming it closed after herself as bright blue eyes met yours.

"hi." "hi."

you couldn't help but smile as you noticed the slight blush on her cheeks, the same you could feel creeping up the back of your neck as she stepped closer.

"i feel like i haven't seen you all night." alessia pondered, her fingers nudging yours where your arm by your side and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the bolts of electricity which shot up at your arm at her touch.

"i've been avoiding you." you spoke bluntly, her face falling before she noticed your grin and her eyes rolled. "hilarious." she muttered sarcastically, shoving you and smiling down at the floor as the pair of you stood side by side leant against the sink.

"has kyra been bothering you?" alessia questioned softly, and you could feel her concerned gaze pan over the side of your face but as soon as you turned to look back at her it was trained to the floor again.

"jealous?" you smiled softly, bumping your shoulder gently into hers, your fingers now brushing against hers where your hands hung side by side, pinkies slowly intertwining making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"no!" alessia answered quickly, the two of you finally sharing a look and a grin before returning your gazes to the tiled floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"she's been trying to sell me off like a prized cow, vic too." you chuckled, the electricity bolts returning as alessia now properly took your hand in hers.

"well now i'm jealous." alessia admitted quietly though you didn't miss the way her lips curled upward. "should be, i'm worth a fair bit of money russo." you teased softly, squeezing her hand and bumping your hip into hers again.

"oh i know. who went shopping with you yesterday?" alessia challenged looking up as you scoffed. "i told you i would pay for my own stuff! but you-" you started to argue, a laugh and a pair of very familiar lips shutting you up as they pressed against yours.

"we could just tell them about us." you were again caught off guard by the words that followed, alessia's taller form caging you in against the counter you were pressed against, pulling away and speaking up.

"i thought you weren't ready yet? there's no pressure less, i know i said that stuff about kyra but-" again, cut off with pale pink lips moving against yours.

"well i've been thinking about it and we could start with just a few of our close friends, our parents have kept it hush." your girlfriend mused making you smile, her hand dropping yours as they both settled on your hips, yours winding around her neck.

"our friends mouths are much bigger than our families." you reminded with a snicker of amusement making the blonde chuckle. "well we have to start somewhere, and i think i'm ready. if you are!" alessia clarified quickly, worry flickering momentarily through her eyes as you nodded.

"i am. this is still...new, but i like it." you assured with a nod, pecking her lips twice and enjoying the way the tips of her ears reddened.

"new? babe its been two months!" alessia laughed as you rolled your eyes which flickered to the door as you thought you heard it open but it stayed closed.

"maybe, but its your first time dating a girl!" you reminded poking her nose as she rolled her eyes but nodded, unable to argue the fact that all of this had indeed been something new for the pair of you.

"well i am ready, at least for a few of the girls to know. i want you, nobody else." alessia assured as you blushed and she beamed, kissing your flushed cheeks.

"and then maybe they'll stop trying to sell you off like a prized cow." your girlfriend teased as you gasped, opening your mouth to tell her off but once more your words were swallowed by her lips locking with yours.

"you can't just kiss me to shut me up whenever you want you know?" "oh no? watch me."

[mythicmanuscripts]

omega aegon and heats. one befor his wedding and one after it. what would be the differences. god hed be so needy and pritty. imagine he goes through heat before the wedding but he and reader are already pritty close and he just beggs alicent to alow him to get his fiancey or just something that smells like them. and the in comparison after the wedding.

I love this!!!

NSFW sub and omega aegon below the cut! As always, all my a/b/o stuff will be tagged with 'a/b/o hotd' so if it's not your cup of tea when just block that

Right so firstly I can't remember if I've said this before or not but I'm gonna say it again: as king Aegon of course gets countless alphas trying to court him and he's supposed to remain sweet and cordial to all of them until the decision is made. Everyone thinks he'll be great at that, because he's just... so omega? He takes to being pampered and cared for so well, knows how to flirt with alphas and he really just perfectly encapsulates that typical omega stereotype.

So that's the plan with how Aegon is supposed to behave until they make a decision on which alpha is best for him. This works well for about a week until you walk into the thrown room for the first time because from the moment he sees you he will not have any other.

You've barely even introduced yourself before he's jumping off his thrown and walking over to you, overing his hand for you to kiss and when you do his knees nearly buckle. He's obsessed, and he will not even entertain the literal hundreds of other alphas who have come to ask to court him.

He insists you sit next to him for dinner that night, and he doesn't even answer when other alphas try to talk to him. You and him have your own conversations the entire night and when he retires to his quarters the guards can hear his whines through the door because he already feels lonely.

While of course all the things about Aegon mentioned before are why so many alphas think he's completely perfect, but him being like that also means he's a very needy and sensitive omega? So even though he's barely known you a few hours at that point, he still hates that his nest has none of your scents. If he thought the guards outside his door would actually let him leave he would absolutely sneak out to find you.

So now Alicent has a massive problem on her hands, because Aegon is supposed to take gifts and offers from noble hours for the next month before they sit together with the council to decide on who will be the best alpha for him. But now Aegon won't even thank the other alphas who present him with gifts and promises of caring for him and giving him children. He couldn't care less about what they have to say and he's always trying to look past the alpha talking to him to see if he can spot you anywhere. Alicent had asked you to avoid the thrown room until dinner to try and prevent the other noble alphas from being offended and as much as you don't like Alicent, you can admit she has a good point so you stay away. This forces Aegon to actually speak to the alphas around. But the moment he sees you walk in for dinner he's immediately scrambling to get up and go straight to you. You roll your eyes at his antics, but you let him take your hand and lead you to the seat at his right hand side that he had kept for you.

He's also very possessive of you? You are HIS alpha, no one else's! No one else is allowed to sit close to you and pour your wine and complain about their day and heaven forbid if anyone else tries to touch you. He actually hisses at the poor omega servant who was trying to fix your dress, because no! No she can't touch you!

Because of how quickly Aegon takes to you, no one is surprised to learn that he's gone into an early heat. Obviously Aegon wants you there, but Alicent can't let that happen, his reputation would be completely ruined if he spent a heat with an alpha before he married them.

Needless to say, Aegon is not at all pleased with this. He begs for you all the time, and eventually he begs to just have something with your scent that he can have for his nest. Thankfully she agrees to this, and has the guards ask you for some clothing and bring it to him.

He wears your sweaters his entire heat and he sleeps wrapped in your blanket. He hates every single second of the heat, because it's so so clear that the heat was triggered because of you.

When he eventually comes out of the heat, he presents you with all the clothing and blankets that you had loaned him. He doesn't wash them on purpose so that he's giving you items absolutely drenched in his scent (needless to say, the other alphas absolutely hate you when they find out about that).

After that heat, aegon won't even pretend to entertain other alphas anymore. He finally knows who he wants, finally knows who will make him feel safe and look after him, so he will not pretend to be considering others anymore.

He was supposed to be meeting nobles alphas for another two weeks and he ends up marrying you before most of the other alphas had even had time to leave.

His first heat after the wedding is, of course, eons better than the one before the wedding. Since by that point you've had more than enough time to acquaint yourself with how Aegon like to be pampered, you ensure your shared chambers is fully stocked with all his favourite foods, drinks and countless amounts of nesting materials for him to use however he'd like.

You honestly expect him to be more of a handful in his heat than he actually is, and the main reason he isnt is because he knows you will care for him and help him. He doesn't need to be overly whiney or clingy because you're right there!! He can just hold his hand out and he knows you'll come to him and give him everything he could ever want and more.

So yeah, happy horny very in love omega!aegon.

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Part 2

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers

Word Count: 3010

Previously on part 1. Part 2 of 3.

You start spending more time with Esmé, filling your days with her endless energy and her excitement over everything new on this island. You’d planned on being here for the family time anyway, but lately, it’s become easier to dodge Kara’s concerned glances and Lena’s quiet observations. Esmé, at least, never asks questions you’re not ready to answer.

It doesn’t stop Kara from trying, though. You find yourself slipping out of family dinners early, ducking behind palm trees when you spot her coming your way, feigning sleep when she knocks on your door at night. You know it’s getting obvious—Kara’s face fell when you bailed on last night’s dinner, and Alex’s knowing sigh was almost loud enough to break through the silence you’ve wrapped around yourself. But would they even understand if you told them?

Esmé’s simpler. When you’re with her, it’s just fun, silly games and laughter that doesn’t get weighed down by questions. For now, you let yourself hide behind that. That is until Esmé notices, of course. Kids always do, with that unfiltered clarity adults forget to keep.

It catches you by surprise when the two of you are building sandcastles, the sun heavy and warm, and she says, “I miss hanging out with Aunt Kara and Aunt Lena together. You know, like… like we used to.”

You tense, your hands pausing mid-sculpt. “They’re busy with grown-up stuff. It happens.”

Esmé gives you a look, so knowing it’s almost painful. “You’re a bad liar.”

You sigh, brushing sand from your fingers. “I guess I am.”

“Is it because of that thing you can't tell Aunt Kara, but you can tell my mom?”

It takes you by surprise, the perceptiveness of it, the way she’s pinpointed exactly what’s unraveling between you and your sisters without even understanding why. You swallow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sort of.”

“I wish I had a sister. If I did, I'd tell her everything! And she would be my best friend!”

"Well, your mom is my best friend and she is my sister too."

She spares a look over her shoulder, to Kara on the other side of the beach swimming alone in the ocean. "I bet Aunt Kara feels lonely."

It’s… whoa. A lot more insightful than you'd expect from a six-year-old.

Kara’s attempts to reach you haven’t gone unnoticed. She’s patient, but only for so long, and it’s clear to everyone around you that you’re holding her at arm’s length.  But what's worse is that you avoid Alex too, because you don't wanna tell her what happened. She's gonna tell you that you missed your chance to come clean, which is obvious and yet extremely unhelpful. 

It’s so evident you're keeping your distance, that when Lena finds you sneaking behind a bush one evening, she doesn’t even act surprised.

"Hey!" Lena’s voice makes you jump, her warm presence somehow amplifying your guilt. "Why are you hiding behind a bush? And why does it feel like I haven't seen you in days?"

"What? It hasn't been days." It has. She raises her eyebrows, and you smooth your hands over your clothes. "I thought I saw a hedgehog," you lie, forcing a smile. She doesn’t look convinced. "What are you up to?"

"I thought you and I could go on a walk," she says, her smile soft, irresistible. You’re about to argue, but she throws a cheap shot. "You know, you did promise me some alone time."

"Did I?" You try a joke, but, as with the last few attempts, it doesn’t quite land with her.

"You don’t have to come if you're more interested in the hedgehog. I could probably hold my own against the wild animals in the forest."

"Yeah, I’m sure you can, but I’d hate to miss you fighting a snake, so I might as well tag along. Wouldn’t want to miss the show."

"Very kind of you, darling." Lena’s eyes light up with humor, and the two of you start toward the nearest forest trail. It’s close to the resort—too close for any real wildlife, which is probably the point.

The conversation is supposed to be casual, just friends catching up. She asks about your thesis, even a few things about your superhero life. But as relaxed as it should be, you can’t shake the tension simmering beneath the surface. Every laugh, every shared glance, every tiny silence, and you’re swallowing feelings, nearly choking on unsaid words. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, terrified that one slip-up could give everything away.

"Kara is so thrilled to have you to share these experiences with. I bet it’s lonely, having to figure out this superhero lifestyle on your own."

"I don’t think I’m helping that much, to be honest. I’m just… following her lead most of the time."

"I think you're more important than you give yourself credit for." Lena touches your arm, her eyes soft and unwavering, making it impossible to shrug it off. "For everyone, not just Kara."

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You mutter the words with such disbelief that Lena almost flinches.

She doesn’t let it go, though. She stops, making you pause too, her expression puzzled but determined.

"Y/N, darling." Just one word—darling—and your heart is pounding, each beat a tiny betrayal. "You know I mean it, right? We wouldn’t miss hanging out with you so much if you weren’t—"

"So fun to have around!" you cut in, your voice unnaturally bright.

Lena reaches for your hand, her gaze softening in a way that makes it impossible to hide. "If you weren’t so incredibly special."

This is it—the moment you could be honest, vulnerable, bare open like she is. But Kara might be in love with her. And she’s probably in love with your sister too, because who would choose you over Kara? No one. Not even you.

So you bite your tongue, force a smile, and watch the moment slip past. “Yeah, I—I don’t know. Maybe the superhero life just isn’t for me.”

“Oh.” Lena blinks, visibly thrown, and when you realize what you’ve just said, it’s too late. Can’t take it back. You’ve tried so hard to hide how you feel about her, you didn’t even think about the other secrets you need to protect.

“Not that I’ll stop!” you rush to reassure her. “I’d never stop supering and leave Kara to it. I just… wonder, sometimes. But, um, everyone wonders about things they’ll never act on, right?”

You can feel Lena’s gaze linger on you as you stumble through your words. Her silence feels weighty, loaded with questions she doesn’t voice. Instead, she’s watching you with that careful, gentle look she has—the one that makes you feel like she can see straight through every defense you’re barely managing to hold up.

“Y/N,” Her voice is low, softer than usual, and you can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “If you ever feel like talking… Really talking, I mean—I’ll listen, you know that, right?”

You breathe deep, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the way she’s looking is too much; she’s seeing right through you, and every instinct you have screams to deflect, to put distance between you and that sharp, all-seeing gaze.

“I know, Lena. I just—” You pause, forcing the words clawing up your throat back down, swallowing hard against the sting of tears that threaten to break free. “I don’t have much to say right now, but… thank you.”

Her fingers brush down your arm slowly, lingering for a split second before letting go. She doesn’t push, but there’s something in her eyes, something searching, that leaves you feeling bare. She’s not fooled, you know that. But she doesn’t press further, only offers a soft nod.

“I just want to make sure you know that you’re not alone.” Her voice is so gentle, it makes your throat tighten.

Her words land with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of exactly how not alone you actually are—and yet, how impossible it feels to share any of it. You swallow, nodding a little too quickly, desperate to end this before you give yourself away completely.

“I appreciate it,” you mumble, unable to meet her eyes. “Anyway, uh… we should head back before it gets dark.”

A tiny smile curves her lips, one filled with patience, and it only makes the weight in your chest feel heavier. She sees through you, sees the things you’re too afraid to say. And as you walk back, her presence beside you is both comforting and unbearable, the knowledge that she’d listen if you let her like a gentle but relentless pressure against the wall you’re so intent on keeping up.

When you finally reach the resort, you mumble something about needing to freshen up before dinner, ducking away before she can say anything else. But her words stay with you, lingering in the back of your mind: you’re not alone.

Even though you've never felt as lonely and isolated as you do now.

This trip, this whole thing, was a really bad idea.

You throw together your bag in a rush, moving faster than any human eye could see. This trip was supposed to be a break, a chance to breathe—but with each day, it feels like the land on this tiny island is getting even smaller. There’s nowhere left to hide, and the weight of your secrets presses harder, threatening to escape the moment you open your mouth. It almost did with Lena, so you desperately need to leave.

You knock lightly on Alex and Kelly’s door, hoping not to wake Esmé. It’s late, but Alex answers quickly, slipping out into the hall and shutting the door quietly behind her. She gives you a concerned once-over, her expression softening in that big-sister way.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Lena said you two hung out before dinner, but then you didn’t show up—”

“I’m going back to National City.” You say it quickly, barely letting the words settle before you look away, as if that might make it easier. Alex’s eyes shift down to your bag, and she lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

“You can’t keep running forever, you know.”

“No, but I can tonight.” You set your jaw, bracing yourself. Alex is going to try to talk you out of this, and you can’t let her. “I’ll help keep watch over National City with J’onn and M’gann. Say goodbye to Esmé for me.”

“Absolutely not. You want to leave her, you tell her yourself.” She opens the door a fraction, enough for you to glimpse Esmé’s little sneakers by the bed, and you feel something twist painfully in your chest. She knows it’ll be harder for you to look Esmé in the eye, to break your promise of a trip full of fun with her favorite aunt. “Man up.”

“Sexist,” you mutter, half-heartedly, as you step inside. But before you can call for Esmé, you freeze. Kara is sitting on the floor, her gaze sharpening the moment she sees you.

“You’re leaving?” She stands up, arms crossed, and in that moment, she doesn’t look much like your sister—she looks every inch of Supergirl, unyielding. Kelly clears her throat, mumbling something about checking on Esmé before slipping out of the small living room.

“Yeah, I have this… thing.”

“Is this ‘thing’ called a massive crush on Lena that you’re too scared to deal with?” Kara’s voice is quiet but piercing, an eyebrow arching as she studies you, making you feel as transparent as glass. “Or is this ‘thing’ a problem you’ve got with me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot everything has to be about you.”

Before you can get another word out, she’s right in front of you, moving faster than even you expected.

“It’s becoming about me because you keep dodging me and shutting everyone out,” she says firmly. “You have to stop running, Y/N. Why won't you deal with your problems like an adult?”

“Oh my God! Is there a version of this conversation where you don’t sound like my mother?”

“I don't know. Is there a version where you don’t sound like a moody teenager?” She fires back, voice sharp as a blade.

"Go to hell, Kara," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing full well she’ll catch every word. You try to push past her, but she steps in your way, resolute, daring you to challenge her. Fine. If she wants a fight, you’ll give her one.

“Stop acting so tough,” you say, each word sharp and unyielding. “You’re not Alura. You’re not Eliza. You’re not even my oldest sister.” You pause, just long enough to let it sink in, to make sure she feels the sting. "You don’t get to act like you’re in charge."

Kara flinches, just a fraction, but you catch it. And part of you hates that it hurts her—almost as much as the rest of you wants it to.

A hand catches your arm as you make to leave, and you know it’s Alex without even looking. Her grip isn’t harsh, but it’s inflexible, the quiet authority of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

“This has gone too far.” she says, her voice low.

“Alex,” you say, a warning lacing your tone. But your sister doesn’t budge. She’s as immovable as Kara in her own way, and you can tell from her stance that she’s done letting this slide.

“No. You tell her now, or I will.” The seriousness in her voice roots you to the spot, and you stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t test me, Y/N. This has gone on too long.”

“Alex,” you plead, the warning fading, replaced by something that feels like betrayal. “I trusted you.”

But Alex’s stance only hardens. She glances at Kara, crossing her arms in front of her chest, each movement deliberate, telling you in no uncertain terms that this is the line she won’t let you cross.

“You want to know what’s going on?” your voice comes out loud, it's almost a yell in the quiet of the night, voice cracking as you throw the question back at them, your fists clenched so tight they’re shaking. “Fine. Let’s do this. You want honesty? Here it is.”

Kara and Alex fall silent, but they’re staring, eyes wide. You can’t tell if they're surprised or concerned, and for once, you don’t care.

“I’m in love with Lena,” you spit out, practically choking on the words. “There it is. Happy? But it doesn’t matter, because she’s yours, Kara. Everyone is. Everyone who matters, everyone I could ever care about, they’re all yours.”

“I don't—” Kara starts, but you’re not finished. Not even close.

“Don’t!” you snap, cutting her off. “You have no idea what it’s like to be around you, day after day, having to act like it doesn’t kill me. Watching you looking at her like… Like I do. And I just—” Your voice wobbles, a tremor of frustration bubbling up with the tears you’re fighting to keep down. “I just get to stand there and smile and play the part of your perfect little sister, like I should just be grateful to even be a part of your story.”

Alex takes a step toward you, hands up, but you move away, barely holding it together, so you don't hurt her. “Do you know how exhausting it is? How much do I dread putting on the suit, being the hero, pretending this is all I ever wanted? Because it’s not. It’s never been. I hate it," your voice comes out so raw, your throat hurts afterwards. "and I can’t even tell anyone that because you’d all look at me like I’d failed you. Both of you would.”

Alex steps back the slightest, her face twisted in a mix of surprise and sadness. Kara looks stricken, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but you don’t give her the chance. You’re too far gone, the anger pushing past your better judgment.

“You get to be perfect, and I get to be… what? The second-rate version of you? The one who’s not quite as brave, not quite as good?” You only realize you're crying when you taste your own tears. “The one people don't even glance at because they are too busy looking at you — the super girl. And now you want me to watch you with the person I love too? You just get to take everything.”

"That's not true! None of it is—" Kara reaches out, but you take a step back, hands up like it’s a shield. 

“You don't get it! So don’t—just don't.”

Her expression crumples, and for the first time, you see the real hurt reflected back at you. But the ache inside you is too loud, too sharp to ignore. A small part of you feels vindicated, glad that she’s hurting too—at least now you’re not the only one carrying the weight of pain.

You turn away, ready to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but Alex’s voice cuts through the tension, pulling you back.

"Y/N, wait." Alex tries, voice sweet like you didn't even know she could master. "Let's all take a breath and just… talk about it."

"Oh no," You turn to her. "you don't get to do this. I trusted you with this, and you just—” You can’t find the words, the tears breaking free, your voice shaking. "You just chose Kara over me. Like everyone does. So you don't get to ask me for anything." The next words leave from the depths of your core, it shakes the entire room. "NONE OF YOU get to ask me for ANYTHING!" 

Sometimes hours can feel like minutes, and sometimes a single second can last a lifetime.  "I'm done pretending we're one big happy family." This is it. This is that second. The second you burned every bridge, every connection you've had and flew away from it.

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ⌝

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, angst, cheating, slightly toxic!elvis

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the moment elvis walks through the door, it feels like the ground shakes beneath you, but not in the way you once dreamed it would.

he’s back from deployment, tall and broad-shouldered as ever, his presence commanding the room like it always does.

but there’s something—someone—by his side, a blonde woman with a sparkling smile and a grip on his arm that makes your stomach turn.

her. it’s her.

you stand there, frozen, as your mother, nancy, greets them at the door.

“welcome back, mr. presley,” she says, trying to hide her surprise at the sight of the woman clinging to him.

your heart races, pounding in your ears so loud you barely hear the small talk.

“elvis,” you manage, your voice coming out weaker than you want. he looks over at you, his eyes flicking over your face, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of recognition, of something—anything—that could explain this.

but he says nothing.

instead, the woman pipes up, beaming.

“you must be nancy’s daughter! elvis has told me so much about you.” her voice is sweet, dripping with condescension, as if she’s already staking her claim in the space you once thought was yours.

“elvis,” you repeat, louder this time, your eyes locked on him, willing him to acknowledge the unspoken truth that’s hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

he clears his throat.

“yeah, uh, this is stacey,” he says awkwardly, avoiding your eyes. “we met while i was away.”

“met?” you echo, the word like ash on your tongue. your pulse quickens. “met?”

the betrayal is sharp, slicing through your chest.

“yeah,” stacey chimes in, still clinging to him. “we hit it off right away, didn’t we, satnin?”

she looks up at him adoringly, and you want to scream.

the word hits you like a slap. satnin. that’s what you used to call him, in the quiet of the night when he would sneak into your room, pulling you close and whispering promises he never intended to keep.

the world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way she says it—like she owns him, like that name was never yours.

your blood runs cold.

your mother hurries out of the room, sensing the tension, leaving you alone with them. it’s just the three of you now, the air thick and suffocating.

“elvis, what is this?” you ask, stepping forward. “you promised…”

the words choke in your throat, but you won’t let them fall away. not now. not when you’ve kept this secret, this relationship, buried deep for so long.

his jaw tightens.

“i didn’t… i ain’t promise nothin’,” he says, the lie bitter on his lips.

“really?” your voice rises, the anger bubbling to the surface. “that’s what you’re going with? after all the nights you spent sneaking into my room? after everything we—”

“don’t,” he snaps, his eyes finally meeting yours, hard and unyielding. “that was… it ain’t like that.”

“not like that?” you repeat, incredulous. “then what was it, elvis? because you made me believe it was real. you made me believe we had something.”

stacey’s eyes narrow, and she looks between the two of you, sensing the shift.

“wait a minute,” she says, her voice cold now. “what’s going on here? what the hell is she talking about, elvis?”

you glare at her, the heat of your rage burning in your chest.

“i’m talking about the fact that i’ve been with him. that we were together.”

elvis groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“this ain’t the time for this.”

“no, it’s exactly the time!” you shout, your voice shaking. “you come back here with her—like i don’t even exist? after everything we went through?”

stacey crosses her arms, stepping in front of elvis like she’s marking her territory.

“you’re seriously trying to tell me you and elvis were… what? a thing? i don’t believe it. not for a second.”

your chest tightens, the disbelief twisting into something ugly.

“you don’t have to believe it. but it’s the truth.”

elvis stays silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, and the silence feels like a slap in the face. he’s not denying it, but he’s not fighting for you either.

it’s like you’re watching him slip away, out of reach, into the arms of someone who has no idea what the two of you shared.

stacey’s face twists with anger.

“you’re lying. he would’ve told me if you meant anything. he wouldn’t hide something like that from me.”

you laugh, bitter and cold.

“wouldn’t he? that’s all we ever did. hide. sneak around. because he didn’t want anyone to know.”

“that’s enough,” elvis cuts in, his voice harsh. but you’re past the point of caring, past the point of holding back.

“it is not!” the words explode from you, raw and jagged, and the room falls deadly silent.

elvis looks up, his blue eyes wide, startled, and for a brief, flickering moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you thought you knew—the warmth, the softness that once made you feel safe.

just as quickly, it vanishes.

his gaze hardens, turning cold and distant, like a door slamming shut between you, leaving nothing but an icy void where there used to be something real.

stacey’s face twists in confusion and fury.

“is it true, elvis?” she demands, her voice tight. “you were with her? what, was she some side piece to you? the other woman?”

you freeze at the words. other woman. that’s what you are, isn’t it? the secret. the hidden affair that no one talks about. the girl in the shadows while he’s out there, with her.

the realization burns, and you feel the weight of it crushing you from the inside out.

he doesn’t answer, and the silence is all the confirmation she needs.

“unbelievable,” she hisses, turning on him. “you lied to me. about her? about this?”

“it wasn’t like that, honey,” he mutters, but she’s already backing away from him, her face contorted with betrayal.

“wasn’t like that?” you interrupt, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. “you lied to both of us. you made me believe i meant something to you, and now you bring her here? acting like i’m nothing?”

stacey rounds on you, her eyes flashing.

“you think you’re the victim here? you’re nothing but the other woman. he’s with me now, so whatever little fling you had—”

“i am not the other woman!” you scream, the words ripping out of you, raw and jagged. “i was here first!” your voice cracks, and your eyes blur with unshed tears as you stare through elvis like he’s a stranger. “you were mine first!”

the room falls silent at your outburst, the weight of your confession hanging in the air.

elvis stares at you, stunned, his face shadowed with regret and shame and for a brief moment, you see the truth in his eyes. he knows it too. you were his before anyone else. before stacey.

the blonde haired woman doesn’t care. she’s already storming out of the room, her heels clicking angrily against the floor as she mutters curses under her breath.

“elvis!” she snaps as she reaches the door. “you’re a coward. a liar. don’t bother calling me.”

the door slams shut behind her, leaving you and elvis alone, the silence deafening.

you stand there, chest heaving, staring at the man you thought you knew. the man you loved.

but now, you see him for what he is.

“you didn’t even fight for me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as a lone tear slips down your cheek. the weight of the words hangs in the air, heavy and broken. you choke on the emotion clawing at your throat, staring at him through the haze of your tears. “i was yours first, and you didn’t even fight.”

___

🝮 taglist: @dhimpson @ab4eva @crash-and-cure @elvisslut @iloveelvis2 @elvis-presleys-stuff

[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc x reader smut - part 2

obsessed with this man I s2g, so here’s a part 2, literally just a series full of smut, kinda spontaneous so I don’t even know where this is going, but whatever. Link to Part 1.

Since Charles and Jenny’s encounter, Jenny was left even more frustrated, and with Charles’ orders that she couldn’t cum until he was the one to make her, she struggles even more to cope with the anticipation of having him again. The aftermath of them two is a tense, giggly mess skcieifiekw Charles is really soft hasnt shown his confident side in bed yet and reader can tell.

Smut - 18+ sexting, masturbation, teasing, swearing, dirty talk. Charles is a flustered mess, almost blows it a little too quickly… oral, fingering, p in v sex. Sexual tension? Ahh I want this man so bad.

My half sister was asleep in bed next to me and all I could do was stare at the ceiling of the hotel, waiting, waiting and waiting. Why she was asleep at 8pm I’ll never know, but now I had no way from distracting myself from the real issue on my mind. Charles. After our encounter earlier all I could think about was having him again, I got butterflies whenever I thought about it, and when I replayed his words in my mind they went straight to my core.

‘Don’t touch yourself until I can’.

How on earth was I supposed to wait? My hotel room was free for three whole hours whilst Eva, my sister was with her ‘boyfriend’ that she’d met in Austria. Seeing as she’d been sneaking out and I’d kept her secret, it was her turn to keep mine. I’d kept to Charles’s words all afternoon, waiting rather impatiently, but now it was getting later and later, all I could do was laid with tightly crossed legs and scroll through my phone in a pathetic attempt to distract myself.

Charles had been texting me back and fourth all afternoon, apart from when he was training of course. The more time that passed the hornier I got. So I took myself to the bathroom, deciding to run a second shower. “Fuck this…” I muttered, locking the door and stripping off my clothes. My underwear were already dripping wet, and I sighed, annoyed by my own desperation. I could still imagine vividly the slight stretch of my tight hole around his cock, the way he’d press so hard against me that his balls would push against my ass. Before I knew it my right hand was rubbing over my clit, taking my phone in my other hand and snapping a picture of my bare tits and torso, cutting it off just before he could see where I was touching. Oops

I’d sent to him the message, stepping in the shower with my hair tied up to avoid getting it wet. Maybe it was a good idea to cool off. When my phone buzzed again, I took it with wet hands.

I thought you said you were going to wait

I’m not making myself cum, but I’m just so wet from earlier, I can’t help it

fuck you are making me hard

To this, I sent him another picture of my wet tits pressed together, fingers slightly sprawled over my pierced nipple, awaiting his response as I tightened my legs. I loved the idea of Charles being hard over me, no matter how many times we had these conversations, they never failed to turn me on more than anything. You are so fucking beautiful, I’m going to fuck you so good later

are you touching yourself? Smirking, I pulled out the camera again, leaning against the wall as I sunk down to the floor, spreading my legs and sending him a video of me rubbing my clit slowly. fuck fuck fuck Jenny im leaving in a minute

So hard for you omg

Leaning back I let out a quiet sigh, enjoying the sensation of touching myself, I was throbbing so desperately, closing my eyes and becoming lost in the moment. I imagined his fingers pushed inside of me, fingering me until I squirted down his arm, screaming his name as I tugged on his short hair. The way he’d muffle a moan if his face was pressed up to my pussy, tongue licking up and down as he made me cum all over his face. Fuck, if I continued I wouldn’t stop. I was dangerously close to losing control, so I had to pull my hand away and continue with a second shower, unable to look at Charles’ dirty words until I was done.

I will be back in 10 minutes, I’ll come get you

just as long as you’re quieter than you were earlier 😉

shut up

I giggled, realising I kinda had to rush. I had to go through the full routine again, moisturising, spraying perfume, picking out new underwear. “What’re you doing?” My sister grumbled from behind me, thick in her French accent, as I stuffed my phone into my pocket. I had to leave now. Charles was outside the room. “Uh going out, I’ll be back in the morning, don’t tell dad, cos’ I kept your boyfriend a secret!” I warned as she pfffted out a tired laugh. “Salope.” She joked as I fake gasped. “You are the slut!” I giggled, heading down the corridor, knowing my secret was safe. “Jenna?” She then asked. “C’est Charles?” I cringed at her question. She’d caught on oddly fast. “Non.” I lied, before slipping out of the room and seeing Charles stood there, hood up and a gentle smile covering his face. I immediately smile, being quiet to close the door behind me. “Bonjour.” I teased as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my lips, “hello.” He eyed me up and down, squeezing my shoulder before his arm dropped and he left a lazy hand on my lower back.

“Thats his room… be quiet.” I whispered, as we passed my father and step-mums room with our heads dipped. “Lucky, I am on a different floor.” He shrugged, pressing the elevator button. The whole time we were waiting for the lift I was anxiously awaiting somebody I knew to open their door or come out from down the hallway. When a door did pull open, I was grateful that we’d hopped into the lift for safety. Charles pressed the button number 7 and then I frantically pressed the close button, relieved when we began moving upwards.

He laughed at my frantic behaviour, coming up behind me and making eye contact with me through the mirror in the lift. “You look so good.” He muttered, voice getting lower as he stepped closer towards me, hooking an arm over my chest.

Smiling back up to him, I watched as he dipped his head inhaling the scent of my hair. “You smell good!” His words made me laugh now, feeling him nuzzle his nose into my freshly washed hair. “You weirdo!” I giggled, digging my bum back into his hips as he groaned, moving the hair back with a kiss to my neck. “Mmm, ça m'excite.” He admitted it turned him on as I hummed, running a hand over his clothed arm.

He mimicked my hum, leaving several kisses on my skin as I gasped out a soft sigh, just as the lift doors opened. There was two different couples stood wide eyed, luckily I didn’t recognise either of them as Charles cleared his throat, lowering his head and leading me out of the lift with his hand. Once we’d past them, both of us giggled, sharing a kiss whilst he used his keycard to open the hotel door.

Oh my god, his room was nice, 10x better than mine and Eva’s and I wasn’t surprised. I turned back to him with my jaw dropped. “It’s so nice in here!”

“It is… I gotta shower and I’ll be back with you, put whatever you want on the TV.” He glanced me up and down as I nodded, sitting down on the plush bed and leaning back. “Ugh, so comfy.”

“I know!” He exclaimed, stripping off his hoody and tossing it straight onto my head playfully. His phone was still in the pocket, luckily it didn’t hit my head but it didn’t stop him from rushing over.

“I am sorry! I forgot that was in there! Are you okay?” He laughed, scanning over me as he held my face. “I’m okay, you idiot.” I laughed, playfully tapping his face as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then again to my lips. Charles jumped up quick, almost child like. “Ok, I will go shower now.”

Whilst he was showering, I was struggling to work the TV, everything was in French, or German. I mean we were in Austria, I just struggled to follow the language when it was on the TV. In the end I settled for some French sitcom whilst I awaited Charles to be finished in the shower.

10 minutes later, Charles walked back out in a fresh pair of Calvin Kleins, practically diving on the bed with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t look at me half naked.” He half joked as I giggled. “What?! I barley even saw you!”

“Good…” he spun around on the bed, resting next to me against the headboard. “What are you watching this for?!” Charles spluttered out a laugh, taking the control that had been resting in my hand. “It’s my favourite TV show.” I sarcastically spoke. “Can’t you tell?” “No, I can’t.” He laughed sheepishly, clearly thinking I was being serious. “I’m being sarcastic, I don’t even know what they’re saying. Their French is too quick. Le mien est lent.” I told him mine was slow, longing out the sentence as Charles scanned over my face. His gaze dropping down to my lips. “You sound good when you speak French.”

“Hm?” The corner of my lip perked, pulling my knees up slightly to bend, but Charles had other ideas. His hand smoothed down my thigh, nudging it back on the bed as I swallowed harshly. “It’s a shame I could not hear you in those videos earlier.” He muttered sending a wave of butterflies through my lower stomach. “I had to be quiet.” “You didn’t cum did you?” He asked, hand pausing as his fingers just about nudged under the hem of my grey jogging shorts. “No, I listened.” I teased, watching a smile grow on his face. “Now I have finally got you alone.” Charles smirked, his fingers continuing their way up to rest on my inner thigh. “About time.” I moaned, watching him sit up slightly so he could nudge his lips against mine to steal a kiss. I could feel his smile against my mouth the whole time, it made it a little hard to kiss, but I didn’t care, his excitement was a compliment to me. Plus, I’d been waiting for this all day. The playful tone in the room soon switched up to something heavier as he lay between my legs, kissing me hungrily with his tongue rolling over mine. There was that thick tension between the two of us again, one that made me pull his hips further into my own. We didn’t have to speak to let one another know how badly we yearned for this. I was wet just from kissing, and Charles didn’t hesitate to slip off my shorts, discarding them next to us on the bed.

“I want to taste you… can I taste you?” He asked, fingers inching closer up my thigh, teasing around the area as I writhed, not being down for this teasing. After months of fantasising about this, and him saying how badly he wanted his mouth on my pussy, my dream was finally coming to life.

“Yeah.” I weakly spoke, hand on his head as he worked his way down my body. Oh god, oh god, I was already breathing heavy, but this was just making my chest heave and fall at a ridiculous pace. “Are you sure?” He breathed, lips pressing a kiss to the lace of my thongs. “Mmh, please.” I moaned as he let out a soft chuckle, fingers nipping under the edge of my skinny underwear. “I like this.” He whispered before sliding them down my legs. I gulped, fidgeting my legs as he nudged them open, leaning in and finally licking a stripe up my pussy. The two of us simultaneously groaned. “Mmm, Charles.” I cooed, as he hummed, licking over me once again. The heat from his tongue, followed by his lips wrapping around my clit sent me onto a whole other planet. “You taste so good, baby.” He uttered, barely breaking away from his movements as he sucked over my clit again. He looked away, shyly, rubbing his hands up and under my tight shirt, squeezing at my tits. “Couldn’t stop staring at these tits.” He admitted as I let out a louder moan, feeling him pinch at the pierced buds. “So sexy.” He commented before licking up and down over my sensitive clit once again. “Charles.” My body jerked, knees trapping his head as he continued his assault on my core. “Oh my god, you feel so god.” I finally spoke, feeling him smile as I whined, grinding my hips against his mouth. “How can I make you cum, baby, with my fingers?” He asked, seeming a little unsure as I nodded with a pleasured sigh. Charles wiped the back of his mouth before kissing me, tracing once finger down my naval, over my slit and easily pushing into my wetness. “Oh, fuck.” I gasped as he hummed, nodding besides me as he kept pushing his finger in and out. “Keep- keep going.” I gasped, hearing the squelching of my wetness against his fingers, my own hand moved down to assist his, rubbing over my clit as Charles kissed at my cheek.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you.” Charles admitted as I moaned, dropping my head against his for support. “Keep talking to me.” I whined, desperate to hear more. “About how tight your pussy felt, how badly I wanted to cum in there… can you take two?” He hummed as I moaned out loud, hand grabbing at his prominent bulge, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Yeah.” Charles pushed his second finger into my tightness as my breath hitched, feeling the intensity of his fingers jabbing at my G-spot. “I imagined you cumming all down my fingers.” His accent was doing wonders for me and soon it was my turn to talk back. “Gonna make me cum Charles, fuck, do you want me to?”

“Yes, baby, oui, jouis pour moi.” He instructed me to cum for him, my stomach curling and tightening as I let out a louder gasp, squeezing the head of his cock as he let out an inward groan. “Cum for me and I will fuck you so good.” He told me, “Charles!” I warned, hand moving to snatch at his flexed arm as I choked out several moans. “I-I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” I gasped, feeling the overwhelming pleasure soon rattle through me. I felt myself release from below, squirting on him as I let out a borderline scream, covering my mouth but Charles pulled my hand away. “That’s it, that’s it.” He cooed me through my orgasm as I sobbed out, body writhing and twitching as he milked my orgasm.

“Tu as giclé pour moi. Tu es tellement bon.” He muttered gently, easing his fingers out of me once my body had relaxed. “What? I don’t know what tha’ means.” I panted furiously. “I don’t know it in English, you… you know.” He gestured down to my below. “Squirted?” I awkwardly said as he nodded. “Yes, I lost my English.” “Mmm, it’s okay.” I hushed, pulling him in for a kiss as I swiped my hand down to rub over his cock. “You’re so hard.” I moaned as he let out a breathy sigh against my mouth. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” I urged him on, taking a hold and rubbing more at his cock.

“I need to fuck you.” Charles then spoke, “I need to- putain, c'est trop bon.” He cut himself off with a curse in French, hips jumping when I squeezed his dick. He made out with me for a little longer, breathing heavy as I quickened my pace. “Non, non… I am taking care of you.” He seemed to fight an internal battle, but didn’t push me away. “I like doing this, Charles, making you feel good.” I cooed as he moaned out loud now. “C'est trop rapide. Putain, si tu n'arrêtes pas ça ira trop vite.” (This is too quick. Fuck, if you don’t stop it will happen too quick).

“What will happen too quick?” I bucked my naked hips up at him as he quickly stopped me. “Non, non, non. Give me a minute-“ he exhaled quickly, freezing and stopping my hand from touching him. “Are you okay?”

“You just nearly make me cum too fast.” For some reason, his words spurred me on further, but I knew I couldn’t continue to tease. “It’s okay.” I whispered, turning around and stripping my top off. Charles eyes were constantly on me, and it was within no time that he was pushing me under his body. “You can fuck me exactly how you wanted to now.” I giggled as he bit down on his lips, kicking off his underwear. “You want this?” He asked, pumping at his cock. So fucking hard and long, he was the perfect size. “Yeah… do you?”

“So much.” He cooed, easing himself in once again. I gasped, snatching at his shoulders. This time, the burn was a little harsher than before, but I pushed through it, knowing I was just a little sore from earlier. “Is it ok?” Charles let out a groan, with a noise like that how could I ever stop? “Fuck me.” I begged, moving my hips up until he finally began thrusting in and out of me. “Does that feel okay?” I could tell he was holding himself back, straining as he held himself up to wait for my answer. “It’s good.” I panted with a reassuring smile. “You feel so good.” This made hun smile as he moved forwards to kiss me much deeper now.

“Oh, yeah.” Charles moaned directly into my ear making me sigh out in utter pleasure, feeling his hand holding the back of my head. “Harder.”

“Harder?” He looked back as I nodded. “Please, I need it.” I spoke through almost gritted teeth as he rested his hands either side of me, beginning to fuck into me at a pace that I could barely moan properly at. He was so good, his hips were slapping against my own, the bed beginning to squeak at our antics.

I took his hand, running it over my breasts and throat teasingly. “Oh god.” He closed his eyes, tending his jaw as he thrusted into me harsher. With each intense thrust I yelled out, snatching and scratching at his back as Charles hissed. His cock was filling me up, stretching my pussy out, my legs were wide and he was slotted so perfectly between them. Sinful noises filled the room as we continued with our passionate fucking. I couldn’t stop, neither could he, it was like a desperation as we chased one another’s orgasms. Every time we’d start off sweet and slow it’s like something inside of us clicked and an animalistic side came out. I tugged on Charles’s wrist, pushing his hand onto my neck as he groaned. “You will make me cum, fuck! You will make me come, Jen- jouis avec moi. jouis avec moi, baby!” We were spooning, my leg stretched up as he frantically fucked me like there was no tomorrow.

“Cum together?” I repeated. “Oui!” He gasped out, tightening his grip on my neck as I rolled my eyes back, feeling him rubbing over my clit. The pace was overwhelming, I could no longer hold back the anticipation racking up inside of me. “Okay, cum, cum inside me, fuck, give it to me- Ah, I’m cumming!” My voice raised as Charles gasped out, fucking his seed into me as he came with a satisfied moan, simultaneous to my own. “Fuck, fuck. I just came so hard.” Charles choked out, his tight grip loosening do rub over my skin. I was exhaling loudly, body jolting and jittering from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “So did I.” I sighed, feeling him milking the last of his cum inside of me, body dripping with sweat as he gently rested an arm over me. “Just stay like this.” Charles cooed, pulling me close as I hummed, snuggling into his back. “Are you okay?”

“Tired.” I responded feeling him lifting his head to take a look at me. “Tu as bien fait ma belle.” (You did so good, my beautiful). An undeniable smile grew on my face. “So did you…”

[caileeflavoured]

typewriting hands

ben mears x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: Watching Ben write his book all afternoon, you soon become bored and need to find a way to get him away from his damn typewriter.

a/n: so idk what happened to the original post from 2022 but it disappeared and who am I to deny people my writing from when it was actually good (not to suck my own dick but I was cooking back then). I actually have no fucking idea what this thing was even about so I won't provide any tw's, therefore, read at your own risk (it's probably 18+ so...)

wc: 999 words

MAIN MATERLIST | SALEM'S LOT

The air inside his small room was hot and stuffy. Pearls of sweat covered your entire body as you lay on his bed, still proud of yourself that you managed to somehow sneak past Eva Miller, the house owner, and avoid her no-girls-joining-male-guests-rule. 

You watched him type away on his typewriter, the constant clicking sound creating a meditative energy around you. Yet you weren’t as calm as you’d expected to be when you initially agreed to spending your free afternoon with Ben.

Your eyes wandered up and down his bare back, analyzing the way his muscles moved so elegantly and manly with each letter he pressed onto the paper. The light sheen of sweat made it glisten so perfectly, and with the slowly setting sun shining its warm light onto his light skin, he seemed to you like an angel sent to this awful town.

“Will you ever tell me what you’re writing?” You eventually interrupted the silence.

But Ben continued typing, a true master at ignoring exactly this question, no matter who asked.

You groaned, annoyed and bored as you rolled from your stomach onto your back, your short dress riding up your waist in the process. The faint breath of air coming from the open window hit your bare legs and crawled all the way up to your lower stomach.

You groaned again, this time on purpose, and with the intent to get his attention. You moved your head to the side, your cheek touching the hot covers of his bed as you watched him pause his writing for a second and rise his head before he eventually resumed the typing.

“Isn’t your afternoon writing session over already?” You asked as you looked at the clock hanging above the door. 

“Not yet,” was his simple, emotionless answer.

You were frustrated, growing needier for him the longer you watched his naked body. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and missed the feeling of his body pressed against yours. But even more so did you miss the simple sensation of sexual arousal, preferably caused by Ben.

So you had no chance but to help yourself out.

You pushed your panties down your legs and threw them towards him. He watched them fall to the ground next to his chair, but still didn’t care to give you any reaction.

“It’s so hot,” you whined, and that frustrated whine quickly changed and turned into a lewder one the moment your hand came into contact with your swollen clit.

All those thoughts about him and the memories of what he’d already done to you ever since he arrived in ‘Salem’s Lot a few weeks ago surely and obviously had an effect on you. They riled you up, leaving you needier than ever. 

Your fingers rubbed circles on your clit as you purposely put on a little show for him, not holding back any moans despite knowing of all the other guests in Eva Miller’s place. They already looked at Ben in a funny way anyway, they wouldn’t dare to ask any more questions if they heard female moans coming from his room.

His name fell from your lips as you indulged in the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. You felt that knot in your stomach tighten more and more as you brought yourself closer to your high, but it wasn’t just quite the same when it wasn’t Ben’s hand.

“Come join me,” you whimpered in between the moans, your eyes always glued to his muscular back, waiting for the moment he’d finally turn around.

But nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly immersed in writing his new book. 

Ugh, loving an author turned out to be anything but a whirlwind romance.

“You’re so- oh fuck! You’re so boring,” you cried out, feeling how you pushed yourself nearly over the edge.

“Uh-huh,” Ben commented, clearly not even listening to what was going on behind his back. 

“I- ugh! I’m so close, Ben,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna come!” And you did.

Your moans turned into high-pitched cries, your eyes never leaving his figure as the intense orgasm washed over you and then — finally. 

The typewriter’s clicking sounds could no longer be heard, and that was not because you drowned them out. No, the constant movement of his fingers had actually come to a halt, and his head turned slightly to the side — yet not far enough to catch a glimpse of your fucked-out frame.

Chest heaving, legs still slightly shaking, beads of sweat running down your temples, and a devilish little smile on your lips.

“You know I got more in me, Benny,” you challenged him. 

And finally won this round.

He got up from his chair, his erection already straining against his underwear, and walked up to you. “On your knees,” he demanded, his voice much darker and raspier than just moments ago.

You crawled up to the author, sitting right in front of him as he wished. Your eyes traveled over his sweaty torso, and down to his crotch, pure lust filling your eyes. 

Ben placed two fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make you look into his eyes. The blue was already gone, his pupils so dilated you didn’t know if you’d ever seen them like that.

He licked his lips as he traced the curve of yours with his thumb, then pulled your face up to his. He trapped you in a longing, passionate kiss, immediately all tongue and teeth.

“Guess Eva Miller and her no-sex-rule can go to hell now,” you chuckled against his lips as your hand wandered down his bare abs and into his boxers.

It surely was going to be Ben Mears who could go to hell once the old lady caught wind of it, but the only thing he seemed to care about now was to make his little girl come a second time. And a third, and a fourth, and maybe even a fifth one.

Typewriting hands rarely got tired...

[lyneira]

♤ the crown prince and his wife-to-be ♤

-> headcanons of your relationship with Malleus as his betrothed

malleus x fem!reader

♤ the crown prince and his wife-to-be part II: your first time with him ♤ (NSFW) coming soon!

Ever since your betrothal to one another when you two were young, you and Malleus have written letters to each other (per Briar Valley courting tradition). After many long years of writing, it wouldn't be until recently that you'd finally be able to meet each other again, and it would be at NRC (where you’d be attending as well).

While he was so excited for your arrival, I think it starts off a bit awkward between the two of you despite having sent years and years’ worth of letters. Yes, he was ready to show you the many things that he’d spoken of in them, from the beautifully sculpted gargoyles around the school, to the lovely garden they have, and to some interesting spots he’s discovered, but when you finally stood in front of him, he froze and his heart was about to leap from his chest. You looked just as beautiful as your soul that had always shone through your writing.

He’d still try to act composed, but inside, he’s freaking out. He would just also be insanely nervous that you’re finally physically here with him. Thankfully, you’re kind and patient with him and the moment you mention gargoyles, his nervousness goes away, gets replaced by passion and adrenaline, and he confirms that indeed, this really was the girl he’s admired and wrote to for so long.

You would sneak off with Malleus to go on nightly walks and explore some ruins, to the dismay of both Sebek and Silver as well as your own retainers.

He'd appreciate that you wear the necklace he gifted you, so he'd also wear something you had gifted him. If neither of you could wear the marriage ring just yet, then at least something like this would do. It's a sign that you're his and he's yours.

Aside from you two, I think many would make it a point to avoid you for fear of being struck down by the powerful fae that is to be your husband if he ever saw them approach you. Sure, Malleus would probably give those who seemed to get too close to you a small, disapproving cold stare, but he would do no such thing as striking them down (not unless they hurt you). Therefore, you would still end up being isolated sometimes as well. Malleus would notice this and apologize to you for being the reason most are scared of approaching you. You would have to assure him that he has no need to apologize. If that’s the way it was going to be, then so be it. Yet, this wouldn’t stop you from trying to change it nevertheless.

You’d still receive invitations from the school or other students, and while Malleus is happy for you, he’d be inwardly sulking at the same time. You could be reading the invitation letter, and Malleus would take a peek from behind you and would scoff, “Hoh, they dare invite my wife-to-be without inviting her husband as well? How cheeky” Now Malleus would never force you to stay with him if he wasn't invited, but man would it be hard to still attend as you look at his sad face when you’re about to walk out the door. (Don’t leave this man alone pls)

You wished others could see how kind and sweet your fiance actually is, so you’d take it upon yourself to bring him to the places/events you’ve been invited to. Though he might be awkward trying to socialize, especially as he receives stares, you’d gently help him ease into it and ensure that he's included in the conversation. He’d appreciate you for taking the effort to help people come to like him, or rather, truly get to know him. And so it made him overjoyed that someone like you was going to be his wife. He couldn’t be any more grateful.

Malleus would be akin to a lost puppy following you around the way he always sticks to your side as much as possible. Wherever you are, there he wants to be. He’ll give you space whenever you need it and he knows he can’t be with you 24/7 of course, but he’ll always have his mind on you even when you’re away. If you’re gone for too long, he’d start becoming antsy, always wondering when you’ll be back. Yeah, you two were able to handle the distance over many years of writing to each other, but now that he has you in his presence so often, he doesn’t want to let you go. If he can’t do anything to see you sooner, he’d simply have things you’ve given him or some of your belongings around him to help content him for the time-being. Like, if you gave him a plushie, then you’d best believe that he’d be hugging it so tightly as he slept. Or did you leave him your handkerchief? It’s in his pocket right now. This dude is an absolute simp for you.

He loves it when you help him raise his dear tamagotchi, Roaring Drago. He'll mention how much he can't wait to have his own roaring dragos with you. He gets just as excited talking about a future with you as he does when talking about gargoyles lmao. He already begins planning names and such that you'd have to tell him to calm down a bit, especially when he mentions that he wants a big family (we’re talking about 3-5 kids). At the end of the day, he'll go with however many kids you'd like, but I was just thinking he’d want such a big family since y’know, he’s been lonely and isolated from others so having lots of people around would lift his spirits. (And what more would he want this many when the mother of his children would be you?) He’d imagine your little babies running around the castle, filling the great, long halls with joyous noise and laughter, something he didn't quite have when growing up. He’d imagine sitting by the fireplace with you and them, talking to them about gargoyles, how you two met long ago, or answering any of their silly questions when something confuses them. One might be sitting on his lap, one might be hanging on to his leg, one might even try to sit on his shoulders, holding on tight to his horns and ask him to stand up so they can feel as tall as him, and the other would be in your arms or lap as well. He absolutely could not wait for that future where he can be surrounded by those he dearly loves and adores.

a/n: I know, I know..! A lot of the hcs parallel my hcs in my ♡ how to gain the dragon’s affection ♡ one, but I think it was nice to elaborate on 'em a little further! Anyway, the next part of this is going to be an nsfw drabble of your first time with him, so minors pls do not intend to read that

[signmyheart]

IDLY2 (Leon x reader) pt.1

It's sad how no one ever talks about falling in love with someone they can never be with. Nobody talks about the pain of being in love with Leon S Kennedy since the first day you were introduced to him at the police academy. Being on missions with him trying to hide your feelings by being distant but his shitty ass jokes always getting to you. Leaving food in his office, checking up on his mental, visiting him when he needs help, observing him from far away always being near him even if he doesn't know it. Walking back from a brunch with him after finally convincing him to eat.

"Nah I've definitely saved your sorry ass way more times than you have my own." You chuckled softly shaking your head recalling all the times you'd rescued Leon.

"Lies L/n, c'mon what about that one time with Claire?" He smiled arguing back.

"HAH! You mean that time you forgot it was her birthday and I had to sneak a bouquet of flowers under the table." You snickered at his false victory. You awaited his response but after a while there was none. You turned around and saw him talking to a woman. Calling her beautiful was an understatement she was so much more. Her red dress fit her like a fucking glove and her hair was so silky, it shined in the sun like the hair on those plastic dolls. You felt the blood drain from your face when you caught a glimpse of the look on his face. There was no doubt he was blushing. After a while he realized you weren't by his side, he looked around a bit only to find you'd disappeared. He shrugged and continued conversing with Ada.

That was the first time you met her.

"Man, your workout is brutal Y/n." Leon complained spreading himself out on the gym floor.

"Told ya you weren't ready for it Kennedy." You smiled staring at his face. He was so handsome to you. Even the parts of him that were scared. You knew almost everything about him and the things he didn't like about himself. But to you, he was absolutely perfect.

"Hey remember that girl I was telling you about Y/n?"

how could I ever forget?

"Yessir," You said with false curiosity.

"I really like you"

your heart stopped

"Hm?" You moved to look up at him.

"I said I really like her, what's up with you, can't handle your own workout?" He chuckled that one deep chuckle that sounded so pretty.

"Oh yeah? That's nice." You hid your hurt with a sheepish smile.

"I think I'm gonna ask her to be my girlfriend but I need your help with something, do you think you could?"

say no. say no. say no.

"Of course!" You grinned. He walked over to your spot on the floor.

"Thanks, Y/n" He smiled and ruffled your hair.

So the next day you spent all night decorating a spot in the garden to he could ask her to be his girlfriend.

Everyone thought that it'd be a great idea to celebrate Leon's achievements since the outbreak. So here you were out on the balcony avoiding him since he decided to bring sweet old Ada. Her laugh rang through your ears even from the other side of the building. It was suffocating how you couldn't escape her. It hurt even more that she was just a big reminder of how you felt for Leon.

"I'll always look out for you Leon."

That was what you told him the night a couple years ago when he showed up at your door. You spent the whole night reassuring him he'd be okay and running your fingers through his soft hair so he could fall asleep. You knew you would always help him because you were just so in love with him maybe that's what lead you to do this.

"Y/n?" Leon called out your name.

"Hm?" You hummed not turning to look at him. You were a little surprised that he found you all the way over here.

"What're doing over here?" He asked softly.

trying to escape

"Just getting some air." Your voice was dull and tired. You finally looked over at him only to be met with a concerned look on his face. He reached out to you and tilted your chin upwards.

"You've been acting weird... are you okay?" Maybe it was the way he was looking at you. Or how his eyes shined in the moon or how close your bodies were that made you think it was okay. You leaned up and kissed him. Shutting your eyes just in case he made a disgusted look. He pushed you away.

"Oh no," You let out, his expression showed pity and it scared you. You dashed straight for the door and out of there as soon as possible.

Not once did he call your name.

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 2

You end up staying in hell a bit longer. Wanting to get to know the real Lucifer better, even against his own pleading! He didn't want you to see how bad his kingdom really was, but you didn't care.

You wandered the halls of his palace and stopped in front of a painting. It had three very beautiful blondes in it. One was Lucifer himself, the other you guessed was his wife, a very beautiful demon of some kind given the horns. But who was the younger girl then?

 

“Who is that?” You asked, and he looked sad and sighed.

 

“My wife and daughter. Lilith and Charlie.” You look over at him, noticing the longing in his gaze.

 

“You said before she's been gone for seven years? What about your daughter?” You regret your words when more pain crosses his face. But he immediately tries to hide it with the fakest, biggest grin you've ever seen.

 

“Oh, hah! Char char is too busy to spend time with her old man these days! Busy with an important passion project of hers! I'm so proud of her.” The forced cheer was replaced with a note of something genuine in that last sentence. So you picked up that he did love his daughter, genuinely. But there seemed to be distance between them… you kept yourself from asking, you'd made him cry enough for one day.

 

“Well, do you have a passion project? Something that keeps you busy?” His eyes lit up genuinely, and it was breathtaking.

 

“Do you like ducks?” …

 

“I'm.. sorry?” You weren't sure you heard right. Did he really just say, “did you say Ducks?” He blushed and looked away.

 

“I uh, take that as a no then.”

 

“No! I mean, I do! I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. I think they're cute!” You couldn't bear hurting him again, you'd say anything to get that sparkle back! He looked back at you, a glimmer of hope hidden behind embarrassment. 

 

“Really?” You nod vigorously!

“Really!” He smiles softly and holds out a hand.

 

“Then come with me. I'll show you my workshop.”

 

You take his hand, it's warm and comforting, fitting nicely into your own. He leads the way down a few halls before stopping in front of the door and unlocking it.

 

“No one's been in here with me since… Well, you're the first in a long while.” Suddenly, you feel a bit nervous. This feels… intimate in a way. A side of Lucifer possibly only seen by his wife and daughter. And now you, too.

 

He opened the door, and you're immediately overwhelmed by the color yellow! He confidently walks in and you follow close behind. You've never seen so many rubber ducks in all your life! Or death for that matter.

“I… so many…” You pick one up that has a tophat and cane, and it does a little dance in your hands. Lucifer watches, holding his breath to see your reaction. You smile wide and laugh, “oh my god, that's so cute!” He lets out his breath in one loud go, he's more relieved than you can imagine. He then puts on a more genuine grin.

 

“Well! Then you're gonna love the rest of my collection, they all do crazy shit! Oh, uh, avoid that pile over there though, those one breath fire and have knives and other dangerous things.” He pointed to the far corner. You make a note to avoid those ones and the two of you spend the next hour going over all the ducks he's made…

Except by the time you're halfway through one pile, you realize it's been way longer than an hour! The sun has set and the stars are coming out. 

“Oh fuck, how long have I been here?! Everyone's gonna panic! I gotta get home to my friends.” Lucifer's face drops as you say this.

 

“O-oh… right, you don't belong here. You have a family to get back to… don't you?” He then tries to cheer up, “well hey, thanks for making my day! It's genuinely been the best one I've had in… a- a while.” You look at this sad little duck loving angel, how could heaven ever get rid of such a cutie?!

 

“I'll come back.” His face lights up with shock.

 

“Wha-”

 

“If you'll allow it, I'll sneak out and come visit once a week. We can organize the ducks and have lunch.” He looks at you like you're the answer to his prayers.

And hey, maybe prayers do make it out of hell after all…

 

“Yes! Please do! I'd- I'd love that! Oh wait, here!” He dove into a pile of ducks, digging around in the squeaking pile for a full minute before emerging with a single green duck with a turtle shell on its back. “For you. It's not perfect but…” You take it with a smile and hug him tight.

 

“It IS perfect. Just like you… thank you for such a fun day Lucifer. I'll see you in a week.”

He hugs back, and blushes. A week was going to feel like an eternity of waiting for both of you… 

 

But, leave you must. He gives you his phone number and helps you get back up to heaven. Once there, you text all your friends that you're fine, and say you just spent the day alone at home because Adam was an asshole when being rejected, and you needed alone time afterwards. You hoped everyone would believe you and that he didn't tell anyone about what happened. 

 

If they found out you spent the day in hell… Well, there'd definitely be consequences. Like not seeing Lucifer again! And you couldn't have that.

[be-my-ally]

Autumn Leaves Falling Down

(Like Pieces into Place)

I've inserted the sneak peak/1st part from last week into this to make it easier to locate and read, so if the first 1k reads as familiar that's why.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland. There's the Memphian, an attempt at a trip to the morgue, and Elvis in a sweater - oh, and smut.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: 18+, kissing, making out at the cinema, there's an argument with Red that results in a gun being drawn but doesn't go off, mentions of dead bodies, p in v sex. this could probably do with a ton of editing but i am fundamentally lazy.

the memphian scenes are totally inspired by @whositmcwhatsit’s The Gate Girl — I've avoided rereading the past couple of weeks to try and forget it but i’ve read it upwards of 55 times and i think i’ve absorbed it all into my brain as fact - and really, she does it much better than me so everyone (if you haven't) pls go and check it out.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really anticipated having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s pretty sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side for her to see everyone. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cosy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How’d’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s pretty sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she attempts to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. Self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

So, Laura hurries. She gets ready as quickly as possible; dabbing on a little makeup and brushing her hair. She’s casually dressed when she heads back down towards the back door - jeans and a ribbed rollneck, fully expecting to change again later in the day. She grabs one of Elvis’ coats out of the coat closet on the way, wrapping herself in the thick fabric and liking how it fell past her knees - she’d really not been prepared for this early fall chill, having brought with her light jackets and layers instead of anything with a focus on warmth. Elvis grins over at her, pretending to throw the ball at her when she finally exits the house, and she giggles back at him, standing to the side of their playing space,

“Gimme a E!” She shouts at him, and he roars with laughter, shaking his head as he loudly tells the boys;

“Oh, you’re in for it now! Got my little good luck charm out here, haven’t I? Where’s all your missus’ huh?” Jokingly shoving and jostling as they come in closer. The game continues - seemingly some sort of bastardised version of football wherein it was every man for himself, and Laura contented herself with watching from the sidelines, every now and again giving Elvis an encouraging cheer at what she hoped was a particularly decent run or pass. It was growing a little boring watching by herself and she wondered where all the other wives and girlfriends were, if they’d had other plans or turned down an invitation to watch - or, as she hoped (despite her boredom) if she’d been specially invited out to the boys-only impromptu game. But Elvis looked happy, practically beaming at her every time he ran close by and so she was more than happy to burrow into the lapels and collar of the large overcoat, enveloping herself in his scent while she watched on. It’s only about ten minutes later that he runs past and pauses, hands outstretched,

“Aw, Lor, baby, I’m all chilled to my booones, you gotta warm me up ‘fore I freeze!” He tries to shove his cold hands up her sweater and she shrieks, dashing away from him -

“Oh no you don’t!” He pouts, arms crossed, and she shakes her head, “Not gonna work this time mister, you’ve got icicles for hands, and you can keep them to yourself!” Elvis huff in a faux put upon manner, and calls the boys in;

“C’mon guys, I’m gettin’ bored of kickin’ all your asses… and ‘m hungry - let’s go have somethin’ to eat and warm up a bit.” Laura goes where he nods towards the house, slowing to let him catch up with her and letting him curl his cold hands onto her warm stomach from behind as they walked in together.

Hours later, after the afternoon light had turned to darkness and they’d spent the day fooling around in the house - if she didn’t know better she’d be wondering where all their energy was still coming from - Elvis was again calling for her to get dressed so they could leave for the Memphian.

“Maybe you wanna get changed sweetheart? You know, into, uh, just something, you know, honey, just, just a bit more, uh, flattering…” He’d followed her up the stairs, and she found it hard to be annoyed at his disparaging comment towards her jeans when he’d playfully chased her into the bedroom. Laura shrieked and danced out of his hands, screeching when he got close enough to dig his fingers into the sensitive flesh just above her knee. She careened through the door and they both fell together once he tackled her when she was close enough to the bed.

They ended up rolling around on the bed for a moment, both laughing. She allows him to pepper her face with kisses, rolling on top of him to return the favour. He clings to her, unwilling to let her wiggle off of him even when she tries to lean back fearing she was squishing him. “Elvis, you’ve got to let me get offa you; I bet you can hardly breathe under me!” He rolls his eyes, flexing his forearms as he squeezed her even tighter to him,

“Can’t breathe! I’ll show you can’t breathe.” She can practically feel her ribs cracking and she yelps,

“Elvis!” Elvis laughs, releasing her, making Laura relax on top of him, sinking against his body. She leans back to observe his face, running a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking the side of his intense eyes and trailing it down to trace his plush lips. He playfully nips at her finger, growling and she blushes at how the noise immediately sent her tummy into somersaults. She feels herself tingle at the sensation of his breath on her now damp finger, and her eyes slip closed for a long second. When they reopen he’s staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes lidded and she no longer cares about being on top of him, his hands sliding down her sides to hold her as she bucks her hips, manoeuvring her to slip her legs on either side of one of his. She grinds down, tangling her fingertips into his sideburns as she captures his mouth again. It’s delicate for one short moment before they both seem to sense an urgency in the situation and she suddenly feels like she’s a willing victim being devoured, his tongue and teeth everywhere all at once. She pulls back to catch her breath, and he chases her lips even then, kissing the side of her mouth until she recaptures his. He ruts up against her once, twice, before stilling and rolling her to the side - Laura lays there panting,

“El, what’s? what’s wrong?” She pauses, she doesn’t want to embarrass him but she can’t help but ask, “Did you - did you, uh, finish?” Elvis smiles a little bashfully, eyes crinkling at the sides as he shakes his head,

“No, no, honey, no just, just gonna save myself - be better later if we just wait; I’ve got plans for you this evening, jus - just lemme hold off for the mo.’” She nods, it makes sense, even if she impatiently wanted him now - and she whispers as much against his jaw.

“Want you all the time, want you in the morning, in the evening in the - god, Elvis, I just - I want to be here all the time, want you right now.” He rolls them so he’s leaning over her, caging her in with his arms and wrapping one of his legs between hers.

“You got me darling, you got me - we just, I want to make it special, tonight - just, just cool it baby yeah? Gotta,” He leans forward into her to kiss her, pressing his mouth hard against hers, tongue licking into her long and slow, before pulling back, breathing heavily again. Elvis reluctantly stood up. “Gotta get ready now. Get ourselves looking uh, presentable.” He cracks his back, stretching his arms and Laura feels abruptly cold at the loss of his warm body heat, panting as her heartbeat slows and the throbbing between her legs cools to a faintly warm glow.

—------------

Laura stares at her hair in the mirror, pinning half of it up, brushing through the rest gently, trying not to lose too much of the volume from the day. Her mousy roots are showing from where she dyes it near-black and she absentmindedly makes a mental note to ask if Elvis knows where she can get some dye, or if there’s time for her to go to the hairdressers. He’d already left for downstairs, having gotten changed unusually faster than she had and left the bedroom long before she was done in the bathroom, telling her,

“Take your time, baby, ain’t going nowhere without you.” She’d blushed at her own reflection at her reaction to his words - it had clearly been a throwaway sentence for him, not something she should take to heart and yet she couldn’t resist it. It was too much, too soon, too close to everything she wanted that she could practically feel it fluttering around her head, feeling herself locking it away tight in her chest. It had been on the edge of every interaction with him the past couple of years, the knowing that she was kept around for a reason, and that she kept coming back for a reason. She’d never been much of a fan of the men in Vegas; they were all too lecherous and desperate – even those that weren’t there to partake in all the sins and pleasures. The few dates she’d been on with guys she’d met while working out there had ended fast, and often slightly uncomfortably. Elvis wasn’t like that though. She’d thought he might be, expected he would be - had rolled her eyes at herself when her stomach flipped at his fingers calling her over. Had lain in bed telling herself it was just her stupid crush from years ago rearing its ugly head, making her see things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t ever even see him again, and don’t be stupid Laura, he probably wasn’t all that nice anyway. Besides, he has a wife and she knew enough not to get involved.

But somehow, her feelings and heart ruled over her sense and before she knew it her life revolved around him in a not unwanted way. She’d not had to worry as much about the men in Vegas then, they could behave how they wished — her dating life that had previously been slim was pared down even more, too anxious that she might be out when Elvis would choose to call and she’d miss him or have to explain where she was. It meant dates were few and far between, but as much as she thought herself a terrible idiot - she couldn’t bear to let anything get far enough that she might have to turn Elvis down.

She shakes her head at the reminiscence, it's been years since that first encounter during one of his early residencies. She’s getting too emotional about it now she’s allowed to be here, tangled in the domesticity of Graceland life, allowed to be photographed, and publicised. She just needs to stay in the moment, worry about how her feelings are getting involved when she gets home - she’s only here for a month, she should just make the most of it. She finishes getting ready quicker with that in mind, rushing through her make-up, a voice in her head telling her not to stupidly waste time. Before long she had her mini dress on and shoes quickly buckled before she headed down the stairs.

Laura had seen photos of Elvis when he was younger, knew that he wasn’t opposed to knits, it just wasn’t something she’d yet had the good fortune of witnessing. But there he was, sat on the couch in the music room, waiting for her and everyone else to be ready. Open V neck knitted sweater with a little collar. She stilled in the hallway, reluctant to break his silence. He’s just sat there with his thighs spread and his legs stretched out, arms across the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She must make a noise, or something, because he suddenly jolts his head up to look over at her. They make eye-contact and she freezes even more still, trapped in his intense gaze. He looks well, like she wanted to climb into him and never crawl out, cuddly and soft and yet thick and masculine. Laura swallowed, her hands shaking a little, as he pats his thigh. How ridiculous that something as little as that could make someone so nervous - she’s just about to take a step towards him, ready to curl into the plush fuzzy softness of his sweater and tangle her fingers in the similarly plush fuzzy softness of his chest hair when there’s a sudden ruckus from seemingly all sides as all the other men and woman, ready for a night out, suddenly appear. Laura mourns the loss of her cuddle, but Elvis’ hand in hers as he effectively shows her off on their way out makes up for it a little.

The step out into the late evening air was even chillier than the day, Laura shivered in her thin jacket - it was downright unseasonable for Tennessee in October to be this cold and she wishes for the second time that day that she’d thought to bring a heavier coat, but then the heavy thump of Elvis’ arm comes down around her shoulder, enveloping her in him. She finds she doesn’t mind the cold so much then, able to enjoy the scent of the wet, crisp fall air and how it just feels different to the summer within the warmth of his grasp.

They’d filtered into the Memphian and Elvis immediately grasped her wrist, pulling Laura with him. He ignored the hustle of the others to head straight up the stairs to the balcony, she goes where he leads - he’d taken her to the Crosstown the last time she’d been in Memphis, so she didn’t really have much choice; not knowing where he was going beyond the ‘balcony’ sign on the door. The door slams behind her, and she jumps at its loud echo in the empty movie theatre.

“I didn’t wanna ‘embarrass you ‘round the guys, I just, uh, want you all to myself.” He pauses while he shuffles down the aisle, “Figured this way,” He settled himself into a chair one row back, in the very centre, “this way you can - “

Elvis suddenly realises she hasn’t followed him down the aisle and laughs, “C’mon, darling, what’chyu standing out there for?” Laura hurries down to him, and he clasps her hand as she gets herself comfortable in the seat next to his, bringing it to his lips. She blushes at the feeling - it was so startlingly romantic that she can’t think of what to say, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He settles back into his chair, dropping her hand to stretch his arm across the back of her chair. A couple of the others come thundering up the stairs, laughing and joking, but they go silent when coming through the doors, taking seats right along the back wall - Laura’s head turns to see who it was but Elvis’ hand from her chair blocks its path, two fingers pressed against her cheek as he cups her face - keeping her looking directly at him.

“Don’ worry about them - they won’t bother us none.” She nods, unable to stop herself leaning her head further into his hand — he smiles softly - cheeks crinkling into his eyes. His hand falls to stroke at her shoulder,

“There we are. Now, what was I saying?” He pauses, “Oh, yeah, if - this way if y’get scared I can cuddle ya.” He pauses, “You’re alright with a…. uh…. slasher flick aren’t ya?” He prods her far shoulder.

She nodded enthusiastically, although her head was ringing alarm bells - she wasn’t normally a huge fan of any kind of horror. She lived alone - life was scary enough without worrying about x hiding behind her doors at night.

But any reservations Laura had were quickly lost when after the title card came across the screen accompanied by some ominous instrumentals Elvis’ hand came creeping across to her thigh,

“You scared?” She shakes her head.

“Course not.” He nods, although his smirk suggests he’s unconvinced,

“Good, but just so you know - ‘m packing…. I could protect you from anything. ‘Specially a man.” He’s looking at her almost too seriously, and she feels trapped under his intense gaze, all she can do is nod.

“Of course - I know, I know you would.” He stares a second longer, before leaning back into his chair, and he indicates with his head the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Besides, if you’re just scared, I got my big ol’ flashlight with me too.” She nods again, not quite knowing what to say in reply - she can tell he’s waiting for her to speak though so all that spills out of her mouth is,

“That’s-that’s the police one, right?”

“Mmhmm… got it direct offa the sheriff.” She turns to say something else, but the opening scene starts to play and he shushes her, pulling his hand off her thigh, enrapt in the movie.

Clearly, it fails in holding his attention for very long. Mere minutes later he leans over, sighing, not bothering to try and keep quiet. She squeaks in surprise as his hands grip hold of her arms - tugging her, she scrabbles over the arm of the chair to go where he’s pulling her — arranging her to be sat on his lap. She looks around, suddenly coming to the realisation that at some point he must have shooed away everyone else from the balcony. He tuts, a finger going to her mouth in a keep quiet gesture when she opens it to speak, pointing at the screen as if telling her to keep watching. Laura does, but she’s lost track of whatever was going on and can’t find it in herself to care when she feels one of his hands curl around to creep gently up her uncovered thigh, the other gripping tight on her side, just below her breast. He teases her like that for a few minutes, although Laura’s lost all sense of time, too focussed on the tickle of his fingers and breath on her neck. She can’t take it anymore, turning to throw an arm around his neck, shifting on his lap to draw him into a kiss. Elvis pulls her tighter, fingers tensing, and she moans into him.

He tugs Laura’s leg a little, pulling her to be straddling his lap. She’s embarrassed almost, or would be if there were anyone around, to be sat on his knee like this, rocking against him and necking him like a goddamn teenager. She’s not done this since college, and he feels so different. He’s got solid thighs and sure hands, manoeuvring her and masterfully keeping his lips on hers - just the right amount of pressure, of tongue, and nibbling bites.

Elvis’ fingers slide up her skirt, toying with the fabric of her slip while his other comes around to palm at her like a teenager himself, hand roving over her breast. She gasps into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw as she grinds against him. He seems to gain confidence at her reaction, moving to push the wide strap of her dress off her shoulder, tugging it low enough to reach the soft cotton of her bra. His fiddles with her nipples, pinching one just the tiniest bit between his fingers and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He bumps her panties with the other, but goes no further, moving to grip her back in an attempt to keep her balance on his legs.

She pants, uncaring now if she’s louder than the actors, gasping as he pulls away. She’s never been gladder he’s wearing a v-neck when she rocks against his thigh, leaning forward to suck a bruise against his collarbone. His hips dislodge her accidentally when the pressure gets too much and he bucks up, jerking her away. Laura’s fingers tangle into the fabric on his shoulders, her nails making little divots in the knit; he was going to have to have someone steam this sweater to get it straight again. He’s breathing rapidly against her cheek, hot breath tickling her nose,

“‘s no good baby, I got - I got plans for you tonight.” Laura grinds against him, unabashed at her wanton display.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah baby, wanna,” His thumb rubs a circle on her hip as he slows his own jerking pelvis. “Wanna show you something. Something a lil’ spooky” Laura grins back at him, hand slipping down between them -

“Oh yeah, you got something you want to show me?” She attempts a particularly awful Transylvanian accent, “Something spooky you wanna show me?” She brushes her hand over the not insignificant bulge of his trousers, the outline of his cock clearly displaying he’d forgone underwear. He moans, eyes closing for a moment before he shakes his head, clasping her wrist and tugging her hand away.

“No, no baby, honey, I got, ah, lord, got something serious I wanna show you.” Laura pauses from her playful wriggling, curious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh Lor, but, uh, let it be a surprise.” He pulls up her strap, patting her shoulder.

“A surprise?” She’s unsure now that he’s not joking about sex.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, lip caught in his teeth that she couldn’t dream of refusing him.

“Of course!” He pushes her off his lap, brushing himself off and straightening her collar when he joins her in standing up,

“Well then darlin’ let’s go.” He holds out a hand and seems to take a mischievous glee in practically running away; leaving the boys downstairs none the wiser to their disappearance. He opens the car door for her with an exaggerated wave and bow before trotting around the front to climb in himself.

They pull up to the nearby funeral home and Elvis starts to climb out of the car but Laura stays frozen where she’s sat, more uncertain than ever. “El I’m not sure about this,” He cuts her off,

“Nah baby, trust…you said you trusted me.” He leans down to peer through the door at her, “Don’t go lying to me now, doll, Cilla liked it - she told me herself it was uh, enlightening!” He’s tripping over his words in his haste to convince her. He’d mentioned his trips to the morgue before - endlessly fascinated with the spiritual and scientific notion of the still bodies. But Laura’s conflicted - she can’t help but feel it’s fundamentally disrespectful to stand there gawking at some poor person’s body but, on the other hand, the reverent way he spoke about the trips and his persistent aura of peace means that she can’t help but feel that it’s ok. As long as she’s with him. She nods, climbing out to follow him. He once again takes her hand, and the unease builds again the closer they get to the door - she was concerned before with the morality of going in there but now it’s her squeamish nature that’s starting to make her tummy hurt.

“C’mon hon, it’ll be good for you.”

“If you say so -“ She mutters back. He raps on the door that was now in front of them. There are no lights on, and she shakes her head,

“Elvis - I don’t think there’s anyone in there, they’re closed.” He tilts his head, frowning, as if confused that a door might remain shut to him before insistently knocking again.

“I got, got special permission, Laura, they - they can’t just lock us out. Hello?” He bangs on the window to the side of the door, he huffs, turning away when there’s a sudden loud crash from inside. Both him and Laura jump at the noise, both whirling back - Elvis jogs down the path, standing back to be able to see all the windows but still no light turns on to indicate anyone inside. He marches back up to the door, raising his arm to pound on it again but Laura catches his forearm, tugging it back to her;

“C’mon El - we’ll come back another night. I’m - I’m scared now, and maybe if they know we’re coming they’ll have the lights on…” He looks down at her, gaze softening at the way she’s quivering a tiny bit - a combination of the anticipatory fear, her jumpiness, and the cold.

“Goddamnit.” He swears, “Well, guess we’ll have to come back another night.” He makes it sound like his idea and accompanies it with a shake of his head. Laura had fully expected him to be more annoyed - and he is, somewhat, ranting the whole way back to Graceland; but thankfully less at the funeral home and his inability to sneak in and more at the movie they’d left. Blaming it for his rash idea to come here with no planning involved.

Most of the cars were already back and parked along the driveway when they got there; either the movie had finished and they’d all left before they started another, or more likely - they’d noticed Elvis’ disappearance and abandoned the movie all together. Red shook his head at Elvis as they walked in,

“Man - don’t you go looking at me like that.” Red baulks at the suggestion,

“I wasn’t Boss, wasn’t looking at you like anything, swear it -” Laura tactfully takes a step back, removing her jacket and taking Elvis’ coat in an attempt to remove herself from the conversation. She goes to the kitchen in the hope of finding someone to hand them off to, before taking a second to collect herself to be, hopefully, a calming influence on the raised voices she could now hear. She slinks back into the hallway,

“I can go where I goddamn like - you sayin’ I can’t protect myself?” Elvis’ waving his pistol in the air like he’s in a western, and Laura bites her lip to stop from giggling. Red’s backtracking now, his hands up as if warding Elvis off,

“Of course, I wasn’t - I wasn’t suggesting that I’m jus’ - just sayin’ you disappeared is all and what with the threats -”

“You hear about anybody threatenin’ me at home?” Elvis roars back, his finger inching ever so slightly to the trigger; Laura panics desperate for them to not get into this now - God forbid there had been a threat made, they’d all be up for hours while they reassessed the security. Red shakes his head,

“Well, no - but people move about, EP, they don’t just stay in one-” Laura takes her chance and steps in, lightly touching Elvis’ arm,

“Baby, I’m tired.” Elvis does a double take at her, completely ignoring Red still talking. “Can we go to bed please?” She blinks owlishly at him to convince him to leave it be, and Elvis seemed to relax, his tense shoulders coming down as he lowers his arm with the gun in hand. There’s a long pause,

“Sure, sure, doll, sure.” He gestures for her to go ahead, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, “Get him the fuck out of my house, I’ll talk to y’all tomorrow.” Elvis ignores Red’s reply, climbing the stairs himself. He shushes Laura when they reach his bedroom, fiddling with the security camera feed until he watches Red leave. He sighs, heavily, and shakes his whole body out, “Awh, baby, I didn’t - didn’t need to get all worked up like that, just - those assholes just don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I can’t be all, all, all cooped up like this all the time.” He whines, gesturing expressively as he talks.

“It’s ok.” She shrugs, running her manicured hands gently up his arm, “They can be pretty overbearing huh?” She presses her chin into the crook of his shoulder as he sighs, kneading his biceps. He sighs back at her,

“I know he’s just doin’ his job, but…” He trails off, taking another deep breath, “Anyway, enough of that now. I want to get back to the night - all m’plans were ruined tonight - you deserve well, you deserve the perfect night.” He turns in her arms, and Laura frowns up at him,

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. I’m fine, I’ve had a great night; such a shame about not being let into the morgue…. How about you let me take care of you?” He shakes his head,

“Naw, naw darlin’ I want to -” He cups her face in his hands, the size of his palms dwarfing her cheeks, “want to show you how much I like having you here.” Elvis tips her head up, bending over a little to reach her lips even as she’s stood on her tiptoes.

She’s enrapt in the moment, not really even conscious of his hands fiddling with her zipper on her back until she suddenly feels his fingertips on her bare skin, chasing the zip all the way down until it's falling off her on its own. His hand comes up to clasp her face to his when she moves as if to pull away, using his free hand to shove her dress to pool at her feet. He pulls back with a tug on her bottom lip, and Laura surges forward to hurriedly tug at his sweater - he takes the hint, pulling it over his head and Laura turns her attention to his trousers. He rushes to unhook her bra, even as he stumbles out of his pants, and it's only a few seconds later before her panties join her dress on the floor.

“C’mon now, honey, s’ok, just - just wanna love on you some,” He pulls on her wrist again, smiling almost shyly down at her naked form. Gently lowering her on top of the covers, he kisses her neck, gentle presses of his lips - every few seconds sucking down with a little more pressure in one spot, before moving to the next. He moves down Laura’s chest, one hand on her waist keeping her still, the other joining his mouth. He kisses across her breasts — capturing her nipple in his mouth, he wets it with his saliva, pulling back to blow his breath across it, Laura’s skin pebbling in response as she quivers. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Elvis stills when she tugs just a little too hard - the sting sparkling down his spine. He pants against her, eyes closed as he rests his head on her chest, trying to regain any semblance of self-control so he could continue, his hands splayed across her stomach. The heat that had been building in Laura’s body all day is back with a vengeance, and already she can feel her heartbeat throbbing between her legs.

He presses little kisses down the soft folds of her stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself up onto his knees. Laura takes a moment to drink in the sight of him - the way his hair is fluffed out from where her hands were just in it, the dark shadow that hints at stubble around his chin catching her attention, and below that a flush that matches hers colours his chest. She’s almost embarrassed at the little moan that slips out of her mouth as she follows, with her eyes, the thick patch of chest hair past his necklaces, and down, down his soft tummy before she rests them onto Little Elvis. Who’s already popped up to say hello, rosy and chubby. He takes her moment of stillness as his cue to go on and shifts one hand to tweak her nipple, the other going down to gently trail across her thigh. Laura gasps, urging him on. He dances his fingers across, hovering them over her until she’s about to beg. The moment his rough fingertip finally touches her she jolts, legs falling open even as her thighs clench.

“Oh Lord, you’re, you’re, Christ Lor, you’re ready for me already.” He strokes his finger up her wetness, adding a second to the mix to expertly spread her sticky folds. Laura tries to respond but all she can manage is a frantic nod as she struggles to find her words while Elvis busies himself with teasing her in little circles, dipping his finger in just the teeniest bit to gather more wetness and bring it back to circle almost directly on her clit. He’s got the same burning focus he does on stage, eyes blazing and his mouth open a little in concentration, pouty lips looking even more appealing in their bitten state. Laura’s eyes fall closed and she feels Elvis’ hand come back to her stomach, pinning her in place while his other plays with her, stilling her jerking hips a little. Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but the problem quickly resolves itself when Elvis leans back to rub his wet hand over himself, before lining himself up and sinking into her hot, soaking, heat. Laura’s hands fall to grip at his shoulders, uncaring of her nails sinking into his delicate flesh.

“El-Oh, god, bit, bit of warning - next time, would be, ah, would be ni-ice.” She was ready but it didn’t stop her from feeling the stretch of him pushing into her. He pauses,

“You want, you want me to, fuck, come out?” He looks pained as he says it, and Laura grins,

“Christ no! Just, give me a-,” She wiggles a little, “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sure, honey? I don’t wanna - meant to be about you baby,” He says this, even as he can’t help but nudge further into her, his eyes begging her to say he can stay.

“Elvis. God, you can move.” He’s slow at first, barely rocking his famous hips, eyebrow quirking as he teases her.

“Yeah, baby? That - that what you wanted?” She groans, red-faced and sweaty,

“Elvis. Please.” It’s the magic word for a reason and he smiles before he concentrates again, his own eyes rolling back a little at the pleasure of it all as he builds up speed, rapidly fucking into her.

Laura rocks her hips into the air, legs shaking as Elvis brings his thumb down to rub directly over her clit, and their tight connection keeps her in precisely the right position even as her legs seem to flail. Her orgasm hits suddenly, and she falls off the precipice with a yell, mouth open and eyes wide as she catches sight of them both in the mirror, Elvis’ sweaty self-satisfied grin as he slows his fingers.

She shivers with the aftershocks, suddenly realising there were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh - Lord, what’s, ugh, what’s wrong baby, am I - am I hurting you?” He slows himself until he’s almost completely still, although, not totally. His voice strains with the effort of not moving, high-pitched, and Laura just shakes her head, “No - honey, I gotta know, you want me, you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Laura sniffles, “‘s just, just a bit much - please Elvis, I want more.”

“Bit much?” Elvis takes her at her word and thrusts into her again,

“Just can’t get over you wanting me - ‘s just,” she moans, “just over, oh, overwhelming.”

“Baby, you feel what you do to me? What you done to me all day?” He pushes the hair from her face, staring down at her. She gazes back at him, glossy-eyed. “Awh, now baby, don’t look like that - you’re so pretty - Jesus, Lord, even,” He thrusts again, starting to fuck into her at a solid pace, “Even, fuck, even crying baby - makes your eyes all big, and your cheeks all rosy … god you look so fucking pretty.” He drags her even closer to him, his hands tight on her hips and waist, finger bruises being left - she babbles at him that he looks good too, pretty, and handsome and sexy. He doesn’t last much longer, maybe another thirty seconds before he’s shouting,

“Oh fuck, baby,” and his hips still, mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back as he groans. He collapses half on her, half on the bed and despite the almost overwhelming heat of him Laura welcomes the sensation of his heavy presence over her and the way he rubs his face on her shoulder. It should disgust her, the fact that he’s essentially covering her in his musk and sweat, but instead she finds it endearing, her pulse jumping in reaction to it. She kisses the top of his head and he responds by gently pulling out of her, rolling to one side. She tries to find it in herself to be brave, the afterglow making her bolder than she would normally be, but still not quite enough on her own.

“Can feel them cogs whirrin’ from here - did I not give you ‘nough attention?” He rolls over to face her. Laura shakes her head, taking a deep breath - it’s hard to have this conversation when she can literally feel his cum still sliding out of her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he refuses.

“Elvis, can I - I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He pauses,

“For Christmas?” Laura frowns, starting to shiver at the cooling sweat and her stress at the discussion. Elvis tuts, rubbing her arm,

“Well, maybe? I mean I’d love to - if you’ll have me. But I mean, maybe that could - I’d really like to stay with you.” He hums, as if finally understanding what she’s getting at, there’s a long enough pause that Laura opens her mouth to say she didn’t mean it, explain that she was caught up in the emotions of the evening and she didn’t want to - honest, but Elvis beats her to it.

“Well, hon-ey,” He’s talking slower than normal, his southern drawl even more pronounced, “I don’t, I don’t see why not - I sure like having you around.” Laura turns to face him, finally,

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say if I didn’t.” He says it sarcastically but he’s smiling softly at her and Laura grins,

“Oh! Thank you,” He strokes a circle against her arm, and she continues the only thing she can think in her mind that’s not just Elvis Presley agreed I could live with him is the next thing that comes falling out of her mouth, “I’m gonna need a thicker coat.” Elvis laughs,

“Baby, you wait ‘til Christmas - I’ll get you the warmest coat you’ve ever seen.” She smiles back laughing a little with relief, “Now, let’s get you warmed up again.” He rolls himself back over her and she giggles as he digs his fingers into her sides and his lips find hers once again.

—————

taglist!

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @lookingforrainbows @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll  @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @lettersfromvenus

[darlingmisa]

Hello

Could i request Reyna with an s/o who is scared of Thundersturms?

Late Night Storms | Reyna x reader

I'm so sorry this took so long to get out but it's finally here. I love this woman so much you guys don't understand she is my wife

cw: pure fluff

wc: 480 (very short I apologize)

Storms in the area weren’t uncommon at all, but that doesn't mean they got any easier to sit through. Despite literally fighting battles for a living, the sound of thunder was the one thing that scared you the most, and it wasn’t something many people knew about. In fact, the only one who really had any idea about this fear of yours besides your girlfriend, was the protocols resident healer, Sage. 

You had talked with her about it before, and you both tried many different ways to get yourself through it, some working more than others. There was one strategy though, that seemed to always make these times a little easier. So here you were once again, curled under Reyna’s sheets as the storm never seemed to end. 

You were unsure of how long it’d been since you made your way to your girlfriend's room. She was away on a mission with a few other agents, and sure maybe it felt just a little wrong to be in her quarters without asking but she surely wouldn’t mind,, right?

The team was set to return in a few hours, and you could only hope the storm would be over by then, letting you sneak back to your own place without being questioned about your little secret. But it seemed luck wasn’t really on your side today as you heard the distinct sound of Reyna’s footsteps approaching the door. Already embarrassed, you tucked yourself even further under the covers of her exceptionally large bed to avoid her gaze as she entered the room. 

“Sage told me you might be here..” Reyna spoke softly as she came closer to your small figure in the middle of her bed. “Storm too loud isn’t it?” She was always soft during times like these, knowing exactly what you needed to feel safe. 

After stripping out of her extra layers of clothes and changing into something a little more comfortable, she slid up next to you, instantly pulling you into her arms and slowly running her fingers through your hair. It was like a routine for the two of you. You curled up in her lap and her playing with your hair with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. 

It was nights like these where the two of you would only really move to find a more comfortable position after a while, Reyna only actually getting up to grab a snack or some dinner for you two to share, or whatever you needed at the moment.

And she would never admit it, but Reyna loved nights like these. Nights where she could just relax and care for you like she vowed to do from the beginning. It was something no one would expect from the duelist, but it was a promise she made, to protect you, even from something as small as a thunderstorm. 

[celandinee]

.0* ..

…ABDITORY

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ n. a place into which you can disappear.

—

word count - 900

featured - miyuki

warnings - none

note - the effort really just disappeared by the end😭 anyways miyuki is a fav so i just had to write about him

—

Lunch was chaos. The headache-inducing chatter of your classmates was enough to make you avoid the cafeteria all together; finding comfort in the abode you called the school roof.

Overlooking the entirety of the school grounds and watching those that strolled by was a pastime of yours. You would lean against the brick railing that prohibited you from tumbling over, eyes following each person who walked the pathways.

You found comfort in the simplicity. The way every student that walked by acted without inhibition, acting their natural selves.

One person chased a fallen leaf that was caught in the wind; another holding hands with her boyfriend, idly chatting with a grin plastered on her face. It was them in their own world, and you were the omniscient viewer.

It was nice to think solitude was your friend at times like this; that this rooftop was your domain alone to people-watch and eat your lunch in peace. You humored the idea— until the sound of a door swinging open totally stomped it out.

Now Miyuki Kazuya’s pastime was terrorizing you. His intrusion during lunch was one of the many ways he went about it, interrupting the silence you enjoyed with that cocky laugh and a snarky comment.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” Miyuki hummed while he took the place by your side. A lopsided smirk curled on his lips.

The boy had his white sleeves rolled to his elbows as he mimicked you, leaning against the railing casually. One of his hands tugged at the maroon tie around his neck and loosened the material until he felt like he could breath again.

The tilt of tone that hung in his words forced you to look him in the eye— his deep, amber gaze making you feel small as you retorted.

“Very funny, Miyuki. As if you don’t come up here and bother me every day,” your brows furrowed and lips pursed.

What was once your secret haven was now forsaken to the wrath of the second-year.

You couldn’t even remember when he first started sneaking out onto the rooftop; you simply remembered having the place to yourself one day, then Miyuki being there the next. You remembered there being silence once, then nonstop talking in your ear next.

“Do you really have nothing better to do?” you grumbled.

Miyuki stared past his glasses and down at you. The black rimmed specs always failed to hide the way his gaze shone with a gleam you couldn’t quite place, the dancing of gold and brown flecks in his pupils.

He leaned his side closer towards your own, tipping his chin down to be at your eye level, “Not really.”

You found it impossible to look away from him, to break the eye contact. Why were you frozen? You looked like a fool staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips, air resisting to enter your lungs.

Your hands balled into fists, still resting atop the cement, scraping slightly as you turned towards the inconvenience.

“You surely have something to do. Why don’t you eat with your teammates? Aren’t you in the same class as Kuramochi?”

Miyuki remained silent for a moment, merely staring down at you with a relaxed air to him— a more genuine smile growing on his face. Before he spoke, he turned away from you and bent down, hands digging through the backpack that he had tossed at his feet earlier.

Returning back to his normal stance, he revealed what was hidden away in his bag. Two strawberry milk cartons.

Miyuki placed one of them on the railing in front of you, and the other in front of him. The act was so simple, yet so sincere.

“Kuramochi is too loud, my team is too loud,” he answered in a subdued tone. His hands fiddled with the top of the carton, bending the thick layer.

His mood hadn’t totally changed, per se, it seemed to have shifted. The cheeky grin and confident aura moved to a tender smile and comfortable sense.

Only now did you observe the specimen in front of you. The sun caught on his glasses—the gentle breeze played with his thick, ruffled hair. Tanned skin from baseball tried to hide the mild blush that dusted his cheeks.

You snapped out of your musing to grab the milk he gave you. “So you assumed I like strawberry?” you playfully nudged his shoulder with your own.

Maybe you shouldn’t be too hard on Miyuki. Yes, his presence often made you bite your tongue, but he also made little efforts that had you second-guessing your opinion on him.

“I saw you drinking this the other day,” he opened his own drink, tearing the miniature straw’s packaging.

Miyuki Kazuya, the ever observant, calculated catcher he was, of course saw you drinking this.

Perhaps lunches wouldn’t be that terrible with the second-year at your side. Sharing your rooftop wouldn’t be too difficult.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, opening the milk as well.

“You’re such a stalker.”

A smooth laugh escaped his lips. His shoulders shook with amusement and leaned down to prod your own as you had done before.

“Maybe.”

—

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 13: Another World

Timeline shenanigans and finally writing a bit about Nadia! Sorry it's a bit late.

He felt Nadia leave him. She didn’t just disappear, he felt her very being disintegrating, torn to ribbons and scattered in the winds of the paradox she had created. Then he woke up in his bed. Harsh noon sunlight hit his eyes through the window and he let out a groan. Memories of conflicting realities smashed together to create a hangover worse than even his most indulgent nights of drinking. His life now felt like a fading dream, only a few strong memories indelibly burned into his soul. The birthday where his life fell apart, the destruction of the Other that had ruined it, and her. Nadia Karayan, his vampire, his countess, his commander. The Aeon that had ripped the universe asunder to destroy the Worldwound before it had been created, and ripped herself apart in the process. His bed felt cold and empty without her lukewarm body. And now he was on the other side, in a world that had never known the Worldwound.

All he could do was lean back into the bed and squint his eyes at the harsh sunlight. He always felt a strange kinship to her when he had a hangover. The sunlight hurt her eyes too... “Damn light… Ugh, what time is it even?” He briefly glanced down at himself. At least he was still a man, that hadn’t changed with whatever else did.

“Daeran? Daeran Arendae, are you awake yet? It’s nearly noon!” A voice from outside answered his question and caused a pit to sink in his stomach. He trembled, unwilling to vocalize who the voice might be coming from. The door to his bedroom swung open and his mother was standing there. Countess Silaena Arendae. The years had been kind to her and had not dimmed her heavenly radiance. Still, his eyes only saw her haggard and dying from the disease that had claimed her in his original timeline.

“M-moth-” He choked up. Daeran was not a sentimental man. Life had forced that out of him long ago, but there was one promise he had made to himself. If he ever saw her again… Without regard to his state of near-nudity, he leapt from the bed and hugged her tight. As tight as a son who had lost his mother. Silaena froze up in her scolding. Something was different about her boy. Daeran desperately tried to hold tears back. She had no idea of the unwritten timeline he had lived through, she shouldn’t know that he had lost her. “I… I-I missed you…”

“Daeran, you saw me at lunch yesterday! Though I would have liked to know where you were all evening. I didn’t even hear you sneak back in.” There was a light scolding in her voice, concern mixed with annoyance that he missed so badly.

“R-right, sorry. I was just out. Nothing to be worried about.” He struggled to keep his composure, pulling away from the hug and avoiding her gaze.

Silaena frowned slightly and tilted Daeran’s chin up. “My boy… What happened? You look… Older.”

Daeran trembled. He had to hold it together. She wouldn’t believe him even if he told her. “I-it’s n-nothing, Mother.”

“Daeran. Don’t lie to your mother. Talk to me.”

“I-it’s nothing, I swear.” Tears were streaming from his eyes as he turned away in some vain hope his distress wouldn’t be noticed. “I d-don’t even know how to explain it…”

Silaena paused for a long while. “Alright, then. I might not understand, but… I think there’s something you feel you need to do? Go ahead.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was exactly as caring and understanding as he remembered, perhaps even moreso. He pulled her into another tight hug. “T-thank you, Mother.” She flashed him an understanding smile and left, closing the door as she went. Daeran fell back onto his bed and started to cry.

Why did him seeing his mother again have to come at the cost of the woman he loved? Why was the universe always so cruel to him? And what was he even supposed to do now? Daeran had longed for the day he could go back to his old life, provoking the elite of Mendev and living for nothing but his own pleasure. Now that there was no war, what was he supposed to do? Mendev probably wasn’t as insufferably sanctimonious anymore, the fun in screwing with them was gone.

Nadia… She’d have an idea. They’d talk sometimes, joking and talking about what they’d do after the war. She couldn’t have children and he didn’t particularly want any, but they had planned to get married, take revenge for her on the vampires of her homeland, and find ways to anger Mendev’s aristocracy even more.

He missed her. He had gotten used to her lukewarm body next to him and then bed felt empty without her there. Maybe… Nadia was a vampire, or close enough to one… She lived a long time, and was already over 60 when they met… Perhaps… Perhaps the Nadia in this world still existed! She wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Areelu, so maybe she was still out there! With renewed vigor, Daeran hopped out of his bed and got dressed. He’d need to learn about this new reality as subtly as possible to figure out just what had changed, but maybe… Maybe he could find her again.