#elvis is so so so SO much more than a handsome face or an innocent victim who has been miserable all his life

[headfullofpresley]

stole this from a facebook group i'm in and sharing it here because i couldn't have said it better myself!!!!

[melancholicbutterflies]

You Don’t Own Me

Summary: You’re tired of Elvis always telling you what you can and cannot do as his wife. You decide to pushback. He puts you in your place.

Warnings: underage, smut, dubious consent, bdsm themes (dd/lg), cursing, yandere!Elvis themes, breeding kink, 18+ (cannot stress this enough!) 

Word Count: 4,046

It was a decision you would come to regret, but you were young and naive, and dreaming of a better life. 

You met him at your high school. Elvis, up and coming rock ‘n roll sensation, had just returned from two years in the service and had successfully reformed his bad boy image in the eyes of parents everywhere. As such, he was permitted in venues since objected to (and the ones of teenage girls’ wet dreams). 

Elvis the Pelvis was coming to your school, and students and teachers alike were all abuzz. Growing up in a very Christian family, you weren’t allowed to watch his performances, and knew only what you heard from friends of less strict upbringings, and the odd radio programming when you snuck into the teacher’s lounge. 

Nothing could prepare you for what he looked like up close. Thick, dark hair that was somewhat cartoonish framed a devilishly handsome, tanned face with high cheekbones, sultry eyes, and a snarling smile that beckoned you. And he was tall, taller than any of the boys in class (although they were much younger, you had to concede). Still, he looked dapper in his suit, his well-loved acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, devil hips cocked to one side. 

He was a stunner, all right, and you were as good as gone. 

You watched as he gave each and every person his undivided attention, all smiles and bashful head ducks. You wouldn’t have pegged him for humble, couldn’t imagine him being so with the amount of talent and charm and good looks he’d been endowed with, but he surpassed your every expectation. He was here to teach some scripture, and at some point he wove in some music, too. His voice was like a siren’s, no business singing such innocently devout lyrics. 

At the end everyone clapped, and he went to signing autographs; the line took up the whole classroom and wrapped around the hallway as other students from classes that broke out joined in. 

When it was your turn, he started, “who should I make it out to?” Pen poised, eyes tired as he lifted them to look at you with a waning smile, and he stopped. Nearly dropped the pad of paper then and there as he stared at you. You stared back, entranced, and found you were the first to break eye contact. “Well, it’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N, huh” he snapped out of his reverie, eyes alight with... something, as he licked his lips. “What a pretty name for a pretty gal,” he scribbled something on the pad of paper, barely legible, but finished with a heart. His next words you couldn’t predict in your most wondrous of fantasies: 

“Say, you wouldn’t wanna grab a burger and shake with me one o’ these days, would ya? Or am I gettin’ ahead of myself?” 

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, in shock. He laughed, hair flopping as his head tossed back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You nodded vigorously, finally finding your words, albeit breathily. “Yes!” 

“It’s a date,” he said lowly, gaze now stuck on your lips. 

It was nothing short of sweet. You avoided your coworkers interested looks as you sat down with Elvis, who’d held your purse as you slid in the booth opposite. You were hungry and he vocalized he liked a girl who ate and set down a tip that was more than you made in a shift. Ice cream followed, a nice walk in the park, and he drove you home, politely not commenting on the sort of neighborhood you lived in. “I had a nice time,” he said in the low light of the fading sun, leaning in real close. “I did, too.” You said it as you looked down in your lap until he picked your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. You thought he looked sinful for someone so religious. 

“Good, because I really wanna kiss you, Y/N.”

You stopped him with a hand at his clavicle. “I can’t.” Looking backward, he saw a figure by the window, felt your sudden nervousness. It was about more than just want, and thankfully he understood. “Sure, baby, I get it. You’re unspoiled, aren’t you?” His eyes implored you. 

Reticently, you nodded, not fully understanding his meaning but knowing enough. 

It should have concerned you how happy he looked at that. 

Pretty soon he showed up everywhere. At the local diner, your ballet lessons, even one late night you were out walking your dog, Marnie. You could have sworn you saw a car at the end of the street, eyes watching under darkness. It was unnerving, it was exciting; you hadn’t experienced the weight of someone’s entire attention on you before now.

If you were less naive, you might have questioned why a grown man who had plenty else to do was expending so much effort getting to know you. It all became clear one day when he took you out to dinner, not just at any restaurant, but the fanciest one in town, followed by a romantic moon-lit walk at the beach and kneeled before you in the sand asking you to marry him. 

You said yes, of course, and he looked like the happiest man alive as he wrapped you up in a breathtaking kiss. You two couldn’t wait to get to his hotel, and made love right then and there, the sounds of the ocean waves lapping in the distance. 

He wanted to marry at once, and only a few days later you were at the courthouse exchanging vows. None of your friends could come (they were all in school), and only a few of his came, including his father, who hadn’t exactly looked favorably on you, but knew his son couldn’t be reasoned with once he set his mind to something. The colonel scowled in the corner, smoking his pipe up a storm. Your mom and dad wanted nothing to do with the whole affair and had all too happily washed their hands of you, signing paperwork to allow you to wed before your eighteenth birthday. 

When it was time to say, ‘I do’, you did so enthusiastically, and a beautiful smile broke out on his handsome face. He pulled you in, thumbing your bridal veil, and kissed you like a man possessed. You were forever changed in that moment. 

Mrs. Elvis Presley. It was like a dream come true.

And for a while, it was. 

Elvis was attentive, doting, a true joy to be around. He took care of everything for you. You wanted for nothing. You were happy, happier than you ever thought possible in your short and, up till now, wretched life. Elvis changed everything for you, and you were eternally grateful. 

But, like all dreams, there came a time when reality set in. The bubble burst. Oh, boy, did it ever. 

It started with little things, at first. 

Before he’d met you, you worked at a diner waiting tables. Now that you were married, he claimed there was no reason to keep waitressing. “Waste of time,” he remarked, “’sides, who’d wanna keep on their feet like that all day long when you don’t have’ta? Nuh-uh, didn’t think so. You’ll put in your notice tomorrah’.” 

You thought to object, but he had a point. It was enjoyable enough to you, sure, passed the time all right, and gave you some pocket change to buy things for yourself that your parents never would. But now with Elvis occupying your days, and making just about a hundred times what you ever did after a full day’s work just sitting around, what was the point? Your coworkers, as nice as they were, were hardly reason enough. 

So you promptly shut your mouth and smiled, giving him a big hug, and that was that. 

Then it was your hair: 

“Oh, doll,” he crooned one night after a heavy bout of lovemaking, running his meaty paw through your thick, wavy hair. “Wouldn’t you look good with straightened hair?” 

You turned to him in mild surprise, still blissed out. “You never said a thing about my hair before. Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, ‘course I do, baby. I just thought you might like to keep up with the fashion is all. All them girls have their hair straight these days.” 

“I guess that’s true.” You admitted. “And, say, maybe you ‘oughta darken it while you’re at it. Might be nice to have us match, you know.” You touched a hand to your hair, furrowing your brows as he leaned in to nuzzle your neck, applying light, sweet kisses there. It was awfully distracting, your hand falling limp on the bed as you gasped. 

“Promise me you’ll think ‘bout it, at least...” He murmured low between kisses that went ever lower. “Oh, sure.” 

“Good girl,” he growled, and he said something about “...have Jer make an appointment at that salon o’ Sandy’s.” And he proceeded to eat you out. 

As time went on, that charming, subtle needling to shift your behaviors in his favor turned meaner:

Once before a press conference, he stopped you in the hallway, seizing your arm. “Hey, what’s wrong—” you winced as he twisted it around harshly in an effort to inspect your hand. “Quit it, E, that hurts.” 

“What is this?” He looked at you angrily, disappointed, even. 

“What is what?” You didn’t see anything other than your ring, which was where it should be, on your ring finger without anything out of the ordinary. When you saw where his eyes were directed, you realized he meant your nail polish. 

“So it’s a little chipped. Who cares?”

“Who cares?” He seethed. “I care, and if you had any sense in ya you would too! Everything you do reflects on me, little girl, so when you look like a cheap hussy, you make me look bad. Make ‘em think I can’t take care of my baby. Get it?” 

He wasn’t shouting, he wasn’t even raising his voice, but the venom dripping from his quiet wrath was so much worse. 

Tears built at the corner of your eyes and you ducked your head, turning on your heel to run back toward the bedroom before he caught you by the arm again. You thought he’d apologize, say he overreacted. He didn’t. Instead he said: “Dry those eyes, girl, and put on a smile. I don’t care if it ain’t real, but I won’t have ya embarrassin’ me.” 

It only snowballed from there.

Your whole wardrobe was thrown out, and a new one replaced to match with Elvis’. You didn’t finish school, didn’t do ballet anymore. You still cooked and baked now and then, but only on special occasions. Mary did all the real cooking in the house, and she already knew what Elvis liked and she did it well. Drinking, although technically not even legal, was forbidden (“a lady shouldn’t drink, you’ll get sloppy and less chivalrous men than myself’ll take advantage. Don’t want that, do ya?”)

Want to go to the movie with some friends? Think again. Boys weren’t allowed anywhere in your vicinity: he barely let Red, trusted bodyguard of the Memphis Mafia, guard you. He said he didn’t like his wandering eye one time. Personally, you thought he was delusional, but didn’t bother arguing since you hadn’t exactly taken a liking to the man. 

Your friends were more acquaintances now, and when you saw them, you didn’t know what to say. They’d moved on, had new friends or new boyfriends. They felt you abandoned them (you did, although not intentionally). You never felt more alone in your life, and yet you were never alone; Elvis made sure of that, always having someone stay behind to watch you when he couldn’t.

Eventually it was the summer, your first summer as a married couple in fact, and you were invited to your cousin’s wedding. It was her high school sweetheart; they got the bug from you and wanted to get hitched as soon as they graduated high school. You were hellbent on making it to that wedding, come hell or high water. Elvis, as your husband, was of course also invited and expected as your plus one. They were renting out a small venue in Nashville, and the bride-to-be wanted you as her bridesmaid if not the maid-of-honor (a role you suspected in the back of your mind would have easily been yours pre-Elvis, but post-Elvis you was less reliable, and you couldn’t fault her for making that decision). 

Elvis’ first reaction to it surprised you. After all, he’d hardly wanted you to leave his side and had grown increasingly controlling. So when he said, “Sure, hunny,” you almost questioned if you’d imagined it.

You were ecstatic. “Oh, thank you, Elvis. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Each word of gratitude was punctured by a kiss all over his face and any other bare patch of skin you could reach. He laughed that booming laugh of his and pulled you in to give you a proper one. “Well, if that’s the way you were gonna thank me I ‘oughta have more o’ your friends get married!” 

This was Fall. Now that it was summertime, and the wedding weekend was upon you, he put his foot down. 

“No,” he said simply, not even sparing you a glance as he casually strummed his acoustic guitar, legs spread apart on the couch. Your mouth nearly fell to the floor, and you felt a distinct ringing in your ears, your heartbeat speeding up. Blinking, you saw a few of his Mafia crew milling about, pretending they’d gone deaf and blind as your temper rose. 

“What?” You screeched. 

You did. 

You almost forgot what it sounded like, your defiance. It was spectacular, and you thought you had never felt so angry in your life. 

And you had a right to, damn it. You did everything this man said and more. You dyed your hair black, you straightened it to his liking, you always had a fresh paint of nails, you wore the dresses he picked out for you, even the ones with the ruffles that you couldn’t stand, and wanted to make you tear your eyes out of your sockets. You stopped working because he said so (although that was not entirely something worth fighting). But you left school, and you stopped talking to your friends for months until they stopped trying so hard and all you had was him and his damn Mafia. The girlfriends and wives didn’t even hardly talk to you. You were too young and there was very little in common. 

You think you spewed all this out to him in your rage, not thinking it even made sense, but you wanted him to feel what he put you through, and being his wasn’t enough if you didn’t have a life outside of his wants and desires. 

Finally, chest heaving, out of words to say in your tirade, you saw him through blurry, teary eyes. He’d frozen, shoulders hunched, body tensed for a fight. He looked around the room, but he needn’t — his Mafia was nowhere to be seen now. His eyes cut to you, dark and stormy, as he rose to his full height and strode towards your panting figure. 

It was a sight to behold, your husband so angry. He’d been cross with you — lord knew he’d been annoyed on many an occasion — but enraged was new. It felt like the point of no return. Like he’d really hurt you this time, all those words about never laying a hand on a woman falling by the wayside.

“Now, Elvis, hold on now—”

“Long past time for that, baby. You been backsassin’ me and I won’t stand for it.”

Your eyes cut to the side, seeing a crack in the doorway.

“Don’t you even think about it, lil’ girl.” Elvis growled. You yelped as he took you in his arms, forcefully tugging you to the couch where he fell back against it, the momentum leaving you to fall across his lap in a rather unlady-like manner. 

“Elvis, please, I’m sorry,” you began, attempting in vain to rise from the precarious position he had you in. His arm only tightened its hold around your waist much like a boa constrictor around its prey. “Should’a thought ‘a that before you went off like that. Now, sit tight and take your punishment.” 

He hit you, then. He actually did it. But it wasn’t across your face or strangling your neck like you’d heard some women claiming of their husbands. He’d pulled up your dress so that it hung your belly and pulled down your lace underwear so that you were bare-bottomed and smacked your butt with his open palm, rings and all. 

You gasped first, shocked that it had happened, and that it felt like it did; the contrast of his warm skin and the cold metal rings was a contrast you hadn’t known you needed. Then as one became two, and two became three, and four and five, and so on... you’d lost track, a strange feeling built up in your lower abdomen that felt familiar yet also foreign. 

Were you... enjoying this absurd, perverted version of punishment?  Surely you weren’t getting turned on by your husband beating you like an errant child? 

And yet... you couldn’t deny the flare of hot want flowing through you, and you certainly couldn’t deny the wet stickiness that started collecting in your bared cunt. You had to bite your lip from making your desire audible; you were angry, aghast that your husband would go to such lengths for simply voicing your very legitimate frustrations to him. 

When a slap fell slightly lower, just catching the bottom of your pussy lips, you couldn’t contain your excitement. A moan slipped past your lips. 

Elvis froze, cock hardening in his pants some.

Your eyes widened, cursing yourself internally. The last thing you wanted was for the bastard to know some part of you was enjoying yourself. You wouldn’t look at him, burying your head in the side of his thigh, even as you felt that hot and searing gaze of his on you. You were humiliated, something you hadn’t thought possible after what he’d already done. 

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice deeper, thick with lust. “Seems my baby likes this more than she should.” 

“Please, Elvis, let me go,” you begged.” You’ve had your fun, being humiliated like this is punishment enough.” 

He laughed, barrel chest vibrating against you. “Oh, hunny, I ain’t nearly done with you. In fact,” he circled your ass with his palm, your slick wetting his fingers now. “The fun’s just begun.” 

“What—” You interjected, only to cry out loudly (or perhaps moan, it was some contrived version of the two), as he promptly pushed his fingers deep into your crevice, the warm, wet walls hugging his long digits with gusto. 

He hissed, “oh, baby girl, that vice of yours just about does my head in. I need to be inside you now.” He started fumbling with his slacks, the belt coming undone in record time as he pulled his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He gave it a good tug, grimacing at the action. The tip was red and weeping, practically twitching with need. 

“C’mere,” he said, positioning you where he wanted you like a doll. “On all fours, that’s right, just like that hunny.” Your knees met the carpeted floor, hair falling around you like a curtain as your head bent. You know he could go deep like this, but usually you had sex facing one another. He could piss you off to no end, but sex was always a sacred thing between you two. This felt cold, unfeeling. Fucking was what it was; he could care less to see you, he only wanted to possess you. You felt cheap, a plaything — and yet your cunt continued to thud with need. 

“Jesus, you’re a pretty sight,” he rubbed his cock over your pussy lips, grab at your ass, take another smack of it and delighting in the jiggle of it. “Please, Elvis, just...” You pleaded, and he cut a look at you. “Don’t think you’re much in the position to be makin’ any sorta demands, doll.” 

You hung your head, sighing, waiting for him to get his fill. “Oh, hell,” he said, “you’re lucky I can’t hardly wait anymore either.” And with that he pushed into you, causing a surprised yelp to leave your throat. Pulling on your hair, causing your back to arch towards him, he set a punishing, brutal pace, one that hard you seeing stars. In this position, he could hit your g-spot dead on, and hit it he did. 

“Oh, godddd,” you groaned, scraping a hand back to hold onto his arm holding onto you. He huffed a laugh that turned strangled toward the end. “Not God, darlin’, but close.” 

You would have snorted at the cheesy line if you weren’t full of his cock. 

“Nothin’ to say?” He taunted. “That’s a real shame. To think you just needed some good dick to quiet down. Bet you ain’t never had one good as me.” 

It wasn’t a statement, he expected an answer, but you were too far gone in the blissed-out feeling to recognize it.

Smacking your sore ass harshly, he repeated his words. “Ain’t you? Say it, or I swear to God I’ll stop right now and won’t let you come.” 

“Yes, E, yes! You’re the best I’ve had,” you cried as the building sensation waned. “That ain’t my name, try again.” 

“Daddy,” you whispered, feeling some shame about it. You always felt weird about calling him that even though your relationship with you father had never been close, but he demanded you refer to him in that way. 

“Daddy what?”

“Daddy you’re the best I’ve ever had,” you admitted. He smiled; really, you would have said anything to have him keep fucking you the way he was.

“That’s right,” he pet your head, slipping his cock back into your tight hole as your eyes rolled back in your head. “You’re my good girl when you’re like this, almost forgotten you was bad earlier. Throwin’ a temper tantrum back there after all I done for you. Ungrateful. And for what? Some weddin’ you felt you needed to go to?” He tutted you, each word punctured by a punishing stab at your cervix; the pain intermingled with pleasure to create a heady concoction leaving you at a loss of words. Intelligible ones, anyhow. 

“Ye-ah...” you moaned. 

“What was that?” Elvis goaded, pinching your swinging titties between his hands. 

“A-agree, I w-was bein’ bad.” 

“Right. ‘Cause the only person you should be worryin’ about is me. Your husband.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed deeply. “Need you just as much, more than ‘em. Can’t have you halfway ‘cross the state if somethin’ came up.” 

He soothed your head, running his fingers through your dampening hair. “Need my yittle baby by my side, and she needs her daddy,” he cooed in the baby-talk language he loved so much. 

You nodded, more so due to the buildup in your pelvic region. He groaned, feeling the tighening in his balls as your walls started fluttering around him. 

“Shit, hunny, you got me ready to burst. You gon’ take it? Take all my lovin’?” 

“Yes, Daddy! I’ll take it all.” 

“Gonna fill you up,” he mumbled, hips moving erratically now. “Fill you up with my babies ‘till your big and swollen with my seed. Shi-itt—!” 

You cried out at the sensation of his warmth shooting into you, triggering your orgasm. 

“Agh!” He yelled, falling over you, hips slowly still moving as if to fuck more into you. You collapsed on the floor, and he was right behind you. You two laid on the floor in the fading light that spilled through the French windows. 

Turning so that he was looking at you, he pulled your face to his in a deep, slow kiss. “You gonna let Daddy take care of you?” 

You hesitated, knowing what he wanted of you. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll make the call tonight.” 

He grinned, looking every bit the angel and devil as he hovered over you. “Good girl.” 

[eddiesgorlie]

ManEater, Pt.1

Austin!Elvis x Reader

Summary: Y/n, a movie star that was recognized for her roles as a young girl decides to switch it up and ends up drawing someone’s attention. (I think this would be a good series, what do you think?)

Warnings: Sexism in Hollywood, swearing and name calling.

Word count: 1,055

I intently looked into the mirror as the hair and makeup girls fixed me up for the Oscars. I had finally been nominated for my first award and I couldn’t be happier, after years of working extremely hard I am finally being respected in the industry-or so I thought. My short wavy hair sat right above my shoulders and my glam makeup made my eyes sparkle. My manager specifically requested I wear no lipstick to keep my “Innocent” role since I had just played young teenagers in my past roles. Once my hair and makeup was done, I put on my pink dress, with a petticoat underneath. I looked like a fucking cupcake. “Thank you girls, I have something I need to take care of.” I said as I left the room. I walked down to my managers office and threw the door open. “What the hell is this dress?” I yelled, my face red with anger. “Perfect, you look cute little one.” He said, looking up over his paper. “Cute? Little one? I’m not a child! I want out of this.” I screamed. He stood up and snapped his fingers at me. “Well maybe you should have thought it through before signing the contract. Now go be a good girl.” He yelled. “Fuck you, asshole!” I flipped him off and yelled as I walked out of the room.

“Girls, get the other dress please.” I had an idea my manager would pull something like this, so I always packed an appropriate dress with me. The dress was a black cocktail length sleeveless dress with a straight neckline and faux fur lining the hem. The girls helped me into the dress and handed me black heels. “Much better.” Margot sighed. “I can agree.” I said with a laugh. They were packing up the makeup when something caught my eye. “Margot, pass me the red lipstick please.” I said. “You sure about that?” She asked, knowing the rules. I nodded and she handed it over, I put an even, thick layer on and puckered my lips. “Lets go.” I said with a smile.

I got out of the limo at the venue and made my way down the red carpet, cameras flashing around me and reporters yelled questions. I walked towards the barricades to answer some questions. “Where’s the old Y/n?” The reporter asked. “Oh her? She’s gone on vacation.” I walked off. Once I finally made it inside, I walked down the stairs and answered some more questions. Thats when something, or should I say someone came to my attention, that someone was none other than the most famous man in the world, Elvis Presley. He was sharply dressed in a black tux and looked as handsome as ever, the part that caught my eye, were his eyes, staring right at me. “Thank you.” I told the reporter and slowly made my way father down the stairs. Elvis was being absolutely bombarded by reporters. “Good evening, Mr. Presley.” I said as I shook his hand. “G-good evening, ma’am. I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He said. “Y/n l/n.” I said. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. l/n.” He said as he kissed my hand. “Ms.” I said. “I apologize, its very nice to meet you, Ms. l/n.” “I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Presley.” I said. I kissed the corner of his lips, and walked away, not looking back. All I could hear at this point were reporters screaming questions if Mr. Presley and myself were hollywoods new big couple. I ignored their questions and walked into the ballroom. Elvis was so kind to answer their never ending questions.

“I will now be announcing the award winner for Best Actress.” I watched as Bing Crosby struggled with the envelope, my nerves were shot and my palms were sweaty. “Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentleman. Our 1956 Best Actress award goes to….. Y/n L/n!” Bing announced into the microphone. I looked around as I noticed others looking at me. I won? How is that possible? There is absolutely no way I won. “Is a Ms. L/n in the audience?” Bing asked. I really did win. I quickly got out of my seat and walked up to the stage. “Thank you, Bing.” I said as I took the award. “Congratulations ma’am, if you’d like to say something, you are welcome to.” He said, motioning to the microphone. I politely nodded and took my place at the podium. I cleared my throat and began talking. “Thank you so much, I am so honored to receive this award.” I said. “We want the old Y/n!” A man angrily yelled. I looked for where the voice came from but continued my speech. “An award of this nature should be given to women that I’ve looked up to for years and it’s amazing that now young girls and women will be looking up to me, hopefully.” I said with a small laugh. “We don’t want our daughters looking up to whores!” A different voice yelled. I stepped back from the podium and made it back to my seat, putting my all into not crying. A whore? Is that what I am?

I watched as all of the amazing talented actors and actresses claimed their awards, hoping it would end soon so I could cry in the comfort of my bed. Minutes felt like hours, but finally the end came and I got out of their faster than anyone else. “Hey, hey wait!” A deep voice yelled. I kept walking. “Wait!” He yelled again. “What? Are you just going to call me a whore?” I spat back. “No, actually I wanted to congratulate you and ask you a question.” He said. “Thank you, what is your question, Mr. Presley?” I asked. “I- I was wondering if I could get your telephone number?” He asked nervously. Elvis Presley was nervous to ask me for my phone number. “Why would you want that?” I asked. “You’re beautiful and I’d love to get to know you.” He said. I nodded and tried to find a pen and paper in my bag but of course, he held them out to me. I quickly wrote my number down. “Have a great night, Mr. Presley.” I waved to him as I walked out of the building.

[lovincherries]

can you maybe do an older!elvis x reader with a daddy kink. Maybe he sees you flirting with another guy and pulls you into another room and has angry sex with you

That’s Alright Mama

a/n: I’m thinking comeback special Elvis? Loved him in that scene. Not proofread. Feel free to leave a tip if you’re able ❤️

warnings: dubious consent, breeding kink, all of the above basically.

Elvis had made you mad to put it simply. You saw the way he looked at girls and you saw the way those girls looked at him. It left you with a bad feeling in your gut and a horrendous taste in your mouth. He was much older than you, you knew he was much more experienced and you could leave him wanting things sometimes. You were trying though, actually trying to be what he wanted. He knew you were innocent when you met, that no other man had laid their hands on you until him. Truth be told, that was part of what attracted him so deeply to you. You were something for him to posses, to own. Something no one had before and no one would have again.

Elvis was 32 and you were just 18, fresh out of high school. You had known each other your whole lives and you always thought Elvis was so cute, and when his career started taking off it was just a wasted dream. You never imagined when you went to visit him with your dad in Memphis he would be absolutely enamored by you. Your dad sensed that attraction between you and Elvis, and he was not happy about it. But, there was nothing he could do. Elvis was the most famous man in the world and there was no way to say no to him. That night, He demanded that your father let you stay longer, said he would give you a ride home. Well, Elvis never took you home and you never went back home either. You had been with him since that day, it was only two months ago but if felt like a lifetime. You were in love, absolutely in love with this man.

But, at this very moment, you were angry with him. He had just bought you a new, nice dress and he was taking you out on a date. Said his baby had to look nice for him, just had to show you off. You were at the restaurant when this woman began to talk his head off, he was too involved in his conversation to notice that you had left and went to the bathroom.

On your way back, a man who had been watching you all night came up to you and began flirting with you. You looked over at your table and saw that she was still there, looking at him with those fuck me eyes. The jealously was like a pit in your stomach, causing you to do something you would’ve never, ever normally done.

“Hey love,” the man walked over to you. He was not bad looking, tall with blonde hair and brown eyes. But, he wasn’t Elvis. You glanced back over to your very handsome boyfriend, and he still seemed to not even notice you were gone.

You smiled sweetly at the blonde in front of you, “hi cutie,” you put on your sweet, southern charm. You knew guys loved that, just couldn’t get enough of it.

“So, what are you doing all alone?” He asked, trying to make conversation with you. You internally rolled your eyes, what did he think? He just saw you coming from the bathroom. You weren’t going to say that though.

“Oh, you know, just walking back to my seat,” you said sweetly, trying to play it dumb. You were hoping that Elvis was watching you now, but you weren’t going to bother turning your head to glance at him.

“You’re here with your dad tonight?” He asked. And it was genuine too, if you had water in your mouth you would’ve spit it out. The question was hilarious and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“I guess you could say that,” you snickered in response, already done with the conversation now. The man’s eyes looked scared, but you didn’t think twice of it as you turned around.

But, you were met with Elvis’ very firm chest. You looked up and saw the anger on his face, he had heard what you just said. You couldn’t even bother yourself to care, strutting right past him. That’s what he gets, he knew how jealous of a person you were and it felt good to make him green for once. You were angry at him, livid even. You had been gone for twenty minutes and he just now noticed. It wouldn’t have been a problem if that stupid women wasn’t so goddamn attractive. She was more his age, more appropriate for him to be with due to the press.

He attempted to grab your arm to stop you from walking away from him, “Y/N,” he said in warning. But you weren’t having it, nope not one bit. He had no right to be angry at you when he was blatantly flirting with that girl, unintentionally. At least you were doing it out of spite, not because you actually liked the guy. You walked to the car and he was storming after you, right on your heels. You were just as stubborn as he was and he knew it too.

“Y/N!” He shouted as you finally made it to the car, it felt like an eternity.

“What Elvis? Huh?” You asked angrily.

“What Elvis?” He scoffed in response, “you know damn well what Y/N. Callin’ me your dad? That’s just fuckin’ embarrassing.” He spoke angrily, but he was still as handsome as ever. “Not to mention you were flirtin’ with the guy as if I don’t even exist.”

“Ha,” it was your turn to scoff in response. “You know what’s fucking embarrassing Elvis? Sitting right next your boyfriend while he practically eye fucks a woman, that’s embarrassing.”

“I was not eye fucking her Y/N,” he retorted. “Get in the fucking car.”

“My pleasure, take me home while you’re at it. And I mean my home,” you said, and as soon as you said those words you regretted them. You saw the anger and the sadness on his face.

“You’re not going home Y/N,” he said in response, he wouldn’t take you. Not even if you begged and pleaded, you were his. “You’re going to our home and you’re gonna apologize for being such a brat.”

“Me? Apologize ?” You rhetorically asked, looking over at him. The anger was evident in his deep blue eyes, his tan skin had a red hue. It was like his anger was evident through his skin. “I want an apology Elvis, I did what I did to make you mad. Hell, you acted like I wasn’t even there.”

“Well, Y/N that’s business and you’re gonna have to learn it. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me,” he said, while driving. You were on your way home to Graceland and his eyes never seemed to look at you. Like he was disgusted with you. “You did what you did to make me mad, and by God you did it. You wanna tell people I’m your dad? Well I’m gonna act like it.”

You had never seen him this mad before, and while it frightened you it also left you feeling excited. You couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen. You kept your mouth shut the rest of the way home, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. You had a mouth on you, both you and Elvis knew it. Normally, he wouldn’t react to it. He was always very level headed, able to keep calm even when you weren’t able to.

You pulled into the house and he parked outside the front, he shut the car off but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look over at you. As your anger leveled off, you felt a pit of nervousness form in your stomach. Maybe he was done with you for good now, you weren’t old enough, mature enough, or level headed enough.

“Get out,” he spoke lowly, “go upstairs, sit on the bed, and wait for me.”

You were no longer excited now. Your breaths quickened, your nerves getting the best of you. You couldn’t even find the words to say yes, so you just did exactly what he asked and got out of the car. You closed the door softly, hoping not to provoke him even more. Your hands were shaking, you wished you didn’t have such a big mouth sometimes. It always messed stuff up. You walked in the house and in a daze found yourself going up the stairs into your shared bedroom.

You sat on the satin sheets, your legs crossed expectantly. Your anger always got the best of you, but when it came down to it you were just a guarded person who didn’t know how to react to situations that left you uncomfortable.

You soon heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, pounding like your heart in your chest. You looked down in your lap, only seeing him out of the peripheral of your vision. You were too scared to look him in the eye. You felt him sit next to you, but you refused to look up and acknowledge him.

“Take your panties off,” he said gruffly. You looked up at him in shock, watching him undo his belt. “Did I stutter?”

You shook your head no and took them off just like he asked. In the back of your head, you knew it would be best for you if you just listened to what he said. He held his belt in his hand and it left fear wracking through your body.

“Bend over the bed, and don’t look at me,” he said in a demanding tone, and you did just what he asked. He walked over to you, massaging your ass as you were bent over. You tried to look back, but his hand was placed at the nape of your neck forcing you to look forward.

"You call me your dad? Huh? I'm gonna punish you like one," he spoke, leaning over you. Your breaths trembled, feeling the fear in your lungs. "Gonna spank you girl, say yes daddy," he demanded, his tone putting fear into you.

"Y-yes, daddy," your voice came out as shaky as you felt. His belt came down on your ass as soon as the affirmative left your mouth, you let out a squeal in response to the pain.

"Think you can humiliate me like that? Tell people I'm your dad? That shit's embarrassing Y/N," he said, smoothing over the welt that was sure to be made.

"S-sorry," you cried out, you had a bad feeling in your gut.

"Sorry what?" He asked, but he knew the response. He knew what he wanted you to stay.

"Sorry daddy," you said softly and then he smacked your ass with the belt again. It was almost as if he was punishing you for saying what he wanted you to say.

He smacked your ass three more times in succession, five times altogether. Tears were falling down your face from the pain, but you knew you deserved it after the stunt you pulled today.

He backed away from you, letting you turn your face to look at him now. You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, a darkness in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"Here's what's gonna happen Y/N," he spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his boxers, exposing everything to you. You let out a small gasp, the air barely reaching your lungs. He seemed harder and thicker than ever before. He walked over to you, that dark glint still in your eyes. "I'm gonna fuck you and you're not gonna say a word, heard too much out of that fucking mouth tonight," he degraded you. You should've been mad, but it only left a pool of heat collecting in your panties.

You just nodded your head in agreeance, but even if you said no you were sure he would’ve still gone about his business. he lifted you fully on the bed but you were still on your hands and knees. You could feel him rubbing his tip up and down your folds, it left your back shuttering in response. He rammed into you before you could process anything else.

You both gasped as he bottomed out in you, a slight hint of pain as he stretched you. Your eyes were still watery from the belt. It was an overwhelming feeling to be so completely full of someone like this.

“So tight Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he began to slowly thrust in and out.

“So wet for me Y/N, who knew you could be such a slut,” he said confidently. You moaned as his hand reached under you to play with your clit. The pleasure was mind numbing, to be used as a fuck toy like this. It left you feeling in awe of him.

You only managed to let out grunts and moans as Elvis continued to fuck into you, occasionally smacking your ass leaving tears streaming down your face.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you, finally make me a daddy,” he said grunting. His hands pushing your upper body down, forcing you ass higher in the air. The new angle caused you to see stars, he was so deep that you completely forgot about the words he grunted. His hips smacking into yours made the air leave your lungs. Your breaths disrupted your moans. Your face was pressed into the sheets, leaving no room for oxygen to enter your lungs.

You looked back at him, his hands firmly pressed into your back. It was a glorious sight to see him like this, his hair messed up. Him so care free as he fucked you.

“You’re mine Y/N, gonna make you so full of me everyone knows it too,” he said as his hips stuttered into yours. You were close and so was he, it was hard not to finish fast like this. Everything was so hard and fast about this, but in a way it was filled with love. It was everything love was about, jealousy and passion.

“Daddy,” you moaned, disobeying him for the first time since he commanded the order. He was too into you to even care, too into reaching you and him to that point. Too into finishing in you and reaching his goal.

“Gonna make you a mama,” he said, reaching under you to play with your clit again and you couldn’t help but gasp and buck your hips into him. The ball seemed to pop in your stomach and you completely let go, your body completely going limp as he continued to fuck into you. He raised your hips up with his hands as he continued his assault.

He thrusted, hard, going the deepest he had ever before. And that’s where he came. You both moaned at the feeling as he collapsed into you, you didn’t even think twice about the repercussions of his actions. You would be anything he wanted you to be, and if one of those things were to be a mother, you would be.

You stayed connected like this for a few minutes, and then he pulled out of you to see the damage he had done. The belt had already left your skin raised, puffy and red. Soon, it would bruise. His fingers lightly traced the marks and you winced in reaction.

“I’m sorry mama,” he whispered, his anger overtook him and he was entirely too hard on you. It left a bad feeling in his gut.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. He saw the cum fall out of you, and he reached his finger and picked it up and shoved it back into you.

“Gotta keep it all, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath. You repeated the events of that night over and over, fucking his love into you and making sure it would stick. He wanted everyone to know who you belonged to. You wanted it too.

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[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Unreleased Ranking (3)

This is a re-ranking of Lana's unreleased songs, after making a first a few years ago. This is all my opinion, which I don't mind anyone disagreeing with but don't come for me for it - honestly, I like every song, despite any criticism, and this ranking is very vague. It's based on objective and subjective opinion.

This is the third of five posts, with the middle songs.

Dreamgirl

Purely wholesome and dreamy, Lana adds some very fifties “shoo-wops” to play a fifties starlet whispering, her vocals soothing and soft along with the looping piano that guides the song.

Jimmy Gnecco

Breathless over the brisk guitar, Lana gushes over Jimmy – mixing her adoration of her lovers with wannabe-starlet fangirling. It’s one of her best acoustic tracks as she smirks and requests a trip to the park.

Elvis

Lana’s acoustic dedication to her icon Elvis Presley is memorable despite how stripped back it is. It could have been cleaner but Lana’s sorrowful desperation to be close to this man who she is such a fan of works well in being decent output from her.

Boarding School

It’s a difficult listen, considering Lana’s nostalgia is for a “pro-ana nation” and a school where “makig love with your teachers” is revered, but it may just be a satirical look at her time in boarding school when she was younger. I don’t enjoy listening to such worrying topics being handled in an upbeat song but the song itself has well-written lyrics and a great instrumental.

Television Heaven

This song is incredibly sweet, with lovely lyrics, dreamy verses and a distinctive pop feel, but it is definitely a strange mash of instrumentals. It’s not too jarring but it does make the song fall lower in ranking. It feels indecisive as it goes from sugary pop to a slightly darker feel in the choruses, and the lyrics aren’t the most imaginative in Lana’s library of tracks.

Be My Daddy

Lana’s full on sex-kitten in this song that opens with twangy guitars and her hushed “what’s up?” as she greets her potential “daddy”. With dirtier lyrics that she’s “open like a Christmas present” and how she’ll “fuck you”, Lana avoids keeping the sex in just the vibe of the song.

Break My Fall

Another song made for another artist, Lana this time sounds like she’s doing her own track. The pop sound is still ideal for actual music charts but Lana pulls the song off well, playing a strong woman far removed from the tragic women of many of her songs. It’s strong in quality and doesn’t stray into more experimental territory where many of Lana’s unreleased songs reside.

Hit and Run

With three versions to pick from (the poppy original, the Born To Die style slower version and the demo Criminals Run The World that’s a little more overt about Lana’s violent intentions), all three of these songs have something special about them. The pop version is bouncy and chaotic, perfect for a wild spree of gun fights and car chases. The slower version is much more seductive and measured, but a little too reflective compared to the manic power of the upbeat version. Criminals Run The World ranks much lower, not as smooth compared to Hit and Run but still with that insanity that makes Hit and Run a wild ride.

Heavy Hitter

With a jazzy introduction, Lana gives us a glamorous tale of a star having an overdose (somehow she makes it glitzy). However, following the suggestive chorus in which Lana asks her man to open his butterfly doors of his car (to drive her to get help, somehow delivered with seduction rather than horror), the lyrics get lost in Lana’s generic praising of herself and her wicked ways. However, it’s a staple of Lana’s unreleased music, even if I do skip after the (if you think about it) harrowing first verse and chorus.

Behind Closed Doors

The instrumental is a little bit all over the place, but it does work when Lana details her ill-received romance to her lover, then jumps right in the chorus to eagerly tell him how much she enjoys sleeping with him.

Gangsta Boy

Lana is inspired by Betty Boop as she croons and gasps her way through the track. The vibe is great, though the music falls a bit, but Gangsta Boy is playful, light-hearted fun.

You’re Gonna Love Me

Lana may be raw in her vocals and basic in her instrumentals (only a guitar) but Lana takes control, self-assured she will make the listener adore her. Her confessional whisper that she might just want to be loved gives this song a knowing edge despite the pondering questions and realism-on-the-edge-of-pessimism feel tone.

Living Legend

Lana’s Living Legend was intended for Ultraviolence, and whilst the song fits in it is definitely one of her more slumbering songs. Yet her sentiment is strong, her lyrics thoughtful and thoroughly enjoyable. All of the versions bring something a bit different but it is underlined by great song-writing.

Hey You

Lana has fun greeting a potential lover with this track and I have as much fun listening to it. The chorus is sparse and repetitive but Hey You is all about grabbing your attention rather than going to deep.

Is It Wrong?

Claustrophobic and guided by a smart riff and technological glitches, Lana pulls off the perfect unhinged groupie as she questions whether or not she is wrong for wanting the star of her dreams so much. The glitching is great for really seeing how Lana teeters on the edge of sanity for this guy she can’t resist, going from being the starlet to the foaming-at-the-mouth fangirl.

Playground

Lana becomes a rapper apparently in Playground and hits back at anyone who doubts her and her music. With a cloying chorus that compares the music industry to a playground of bitchy comments and school yard, Lana’s verses are smooth and her references overall decent. It can be a little bit clunky in places but it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

Motel 6

A cute little dance track which namedrops Jim and her sister, Chuck, Lana brings the party to her favourite motel, downplaying her glamour to throwback her ‘lore’ and her old life pre-fame. Though it’s very much just describing one night rather than anything complex, it’s harmless fun.

Dynamite

Like the explosive dynamite itself, this song is punchy, restless and powerful. Lana layers this dominating track with innocent references to ice cream and pillow fights whilst also not holding back from the sexual references.

Afraid

Neat and mournful, Lana finally breaks off from her toxic partner. Lana is either sick of being worried for the future or terrified of her partner, and its reflective sadness as she plans to go back home still leaves hope that she will be able to be happy.

Wayamaya

Rolling calmly like a beach wave, Lana takes us straight to Hawaii and paints us an image of handsome surfers and Mercurys. Wayamaya is simply a soothing, short, cute little track that keeps very much surface level.

Hawaiian Tropic

Plinky music paired with non-stressful verses and imagery of Hawaiian shirts, this is the (in my opinion) better version of Every Man Gets His Wish (which shares the same chorus). The subtlety of this track compared to Every Man Gets His Wish helps to convey the hurt feelings a lot better, with the nostalgic feel and mournful longing in the vocals.

Dum Dum

Lana plays the alcoholic star who name drops Scarlett O’Hara and Bugsy Malone as part of her identity. These lyrics are pretty witty and the song snappy but, like some of her unreleased music, is a bit too overproduced and not cohesive. The verses and choruses don’t quite gel which doesn’t make for a song that flows well but with tweaking it could be even better.

Hollywood’s Dead

Lana fits perfectly into the era of fifties with this mid-20th century driven track. It sounds perfectly in place for the decade she frequently romanticises (with a modern twist) and Lana’s crooning, tearful references to her icons drips with glamour.

Fake Diamond

For an anti-romance song, Fake Diamond is quite upbeat. Lana complains of her ‘lover’ who is one way with her, a different way with others, whilst comparing their relationship to all manner of Lana-themed aesthetics (diamonds, movie projectors, etc.). Comparing herself to a child, she practically has a tantrum in the chorus, stamping her feet lovingly as she demands he loves her. I do think this song is joyful, making fun of her inattentive lover whilst keeping one step ahead of his games.

I Must Be Stupid

Lana’s live unreleased track lets Lana enjoy her life despite the hurt that surrounds it, showing strength in the face of heartbreak and other such topics in her music. It was performed post-Lust For Life, an era in which Lana embraced the light side rather than simply the dark.

Live Or Die

The version that is a little bit more lowkey and, in some ways, mature in that it matches a lot of her early albums sound is good but it’s not my favourite. There’s the heady, ultra-pop second version that has plenty more sexy references, a little meow (iconic) and an overall vibe of just having fun on the run. The former version is a bit more serious, but the second is – though less good in terms of production – full of soul.

Velvet Crowbar

Velvet Crowbar is a song that shows the dark side of fame and bad boys, namely the way they self-destruct to the point that their adoring lovers (already addicted to these gangstas of course) are falling with them. This song is a warning to these destructive souls that they aren’t invincible, and an equal warning to the people that love them that they might just fall apart and lose them. Lana puts her emotion across so well, with her stark lyrics, anxious guitars and growling third chorus. Even her more flowery imagery doesn’t cover up the overt fear that runs through this song.

Your Band Is All The Rage

Probably one of Lana’s saddest songs (which could be a great deal many since she knows how to tug heartstrings), Lana lets go of her rock star lover despite still loving him in this acoustic track. She makes soulful promises to be there when he needs him, her love lingering until he wants her back, and utilises the country music theme to her advantage.

1949

The studio version is my favourite but the charm of the original, acoustic demo is unmatched. Despite the controversial inspiration for this track, Lana puts us straight in the world of the 1950s, with American motels and Kmart. It has a note of sadness – perhaps because of the unfortunate tale of Lolita that much of this song seems based on – but it works as one of Lana’s aesthetically pleasing and classic tracks.

Because of You

The spoken intro is a little bit cringe but the song is lovely. Lana plays an immature brat who fell in love with a good man who essentially tamed her (a little bit questionable for some in 2021). It’s got some of her most flowery imagery and it details how her relationship bought out the best of her. The casual comments she throws in throughout the song give this a real bedtime story feel, though this song is anything but sleepy.

Resistance

Frustrated but fun, Lana’s catchy and upbeat Resistance brings to mind surfers and sunny days set in the noughties. Even though she’s furious with the guy who’s causing her so much trouble it still, for a change, stays perky and pleasant. A song that needs more attention, it’s the type of song that gets people singing and dancing along to it.

Dangerous Girl

With a rock-feeling patriotic opening, Lana launches into a track about her prowess as a dangerous girl, like a deranged beauty queen with a gangsta on her arm. It’s simply fun, complete with wolf-whistles and an impression of a siren.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XVIII.

A/N: Harry meets Indie’s mum. Indie’s mum meets Harry. Indie is no longer Indie. 

INDIE’S POV

Harry and I lie on my bed as we both work on our laptops. He’s gathering some data from his patients’ record for some smart research of his and I’m trying to study Anaesthesiology. It’s very convenient to have him here really because he’s great at explaining and he kisses me after every explanation too.

I haven’t been keeping track of the time, so I didn’t know it was that late until my mum knocks on my door. I give Harry a terrified look but he just smiles and shrugs, letting me decide what to do with my Mum.

“¿Nena?” (Baby?)

“Sí.” (Yes.)

“¿Puedo pasar?” (Can I come in?)

“Eh… Sí, sí, pasa. Estoy con un amigo.” (Uh… Yes, yes, come on in. I’m with a guy friend.”

“Oh, is Jason with you?”

“No, no es Jason, mamá, pasa.” (No, it’s not Jason, mum, come on in.)

“Ah, ¿habla español?”

My mum finally opens the door and her dark eyes set on Harry and me on my bed. He’s sitting down with his back against my headboard and I’ve sat up next to him but there’s still lots of space between us. Nothings looks suspicious, especially for someone as innocent as my mum. She gives him a smile.

“No, no hablo español.” Harry says in a very awkward but very cute Spanish.

I give him an amused, surprised smile and he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m sorry, then.”

“No problem.” He smiles.

“I’m Alicia.”

My mum walks over to my bed and shakes Harry’s hand and I just stare at their interaction. This is so awkward. I’m going to kill her.

“I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” She smiles. “Are you staying over for dinner? I just came to ask you what you wanted for dinner and to say hi” she giggles “but I didn’t know you had visit, nena.”

Harry’s eyes set on me as if he was asking for permission. I don’t like that. I guess he’s just sending me an SOS because I don’t think he’s going to want to stay over and have dinner with the Fernandez girls but I like it when he’s his own person and takes his own decisions so I raise my eyebrows.

“Do you want to stay over for dinner?” I ask him.

“If you’re inviting me, then yes.”

“Of course she’s inviting you!” My mum horrifies.

She’s probably freaking out at how blunt I was to Harry. If she knew… Harry grins. There he is, he’s amused with this. He’s probably going to make fun of me for this dinner for ages.

“No se hable más. I’m cooking Spanish food” My mum giggles excitedly and I smile amused. “How do you feel about corvina con esparrágos trigeros?” She asks me for Harry doesn’t understand her.

I nod.

“Ask him.” My mum tells me. “I don’t remember how you say esparrágos trigeros… He pasado demasiado tiempo en España esta vez… Y dile que son españoles, ¿eh? Que son de tu abuelo.” She smiles.

“She asks if you feel like having Spanish wild asparagus.” I smile amused.

This is so Spanish and Harry is so British. I imagine him on my abuelos’ country house and can’t help but smile. They couldn’t talk to one another for my Abuelos don’t speak any English and he’d probably struggle to even introduce himself.

“They’re from my grandpa’s vegetable garden back in Spain.”

“I would love that. Grasias.” He adorably says.

My mum and I both giggle like smitten teenagers before she leaves and Harry gives her a charming smile. We keep silently working until about 45 minutes later, my Mum texts me that dinner is ready.

Harry smiles amused as we make our way downstairs.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you we’re just friends.”

He chuckles.

“Yes, friends who sleep with each other.”

“See? That’s the part my mum is not interested in.”

He smiles.

“Are you afraid I’m going to embarrass you?” He half jokes.

I think I am.

“No, I’m afraid my mum will.”

“I can’t wait for this to begin. Do you think she’ll show me your baby pictures?”

“Just friends.” I point a finger at him right before we make our presence known on the dining table.

Coco is setting empty wine glasses on the table. Oh, boy, she’s going all out. I really hope she at least hasn’t changed her clothes and appears with a red carpet dress and a hairdresser’s bun… She didn’t, thank God.

“Please, take a seat.” She tells us as she sets the corvina on the table.

It reminds me of the gilt-head bream I tried to cook for dinner the other night before Harry and I ended up having sex on my couch and my fish ended up burnt and the bits I could save part of Coco’s salad the next day. She didn’t mention how dry it was, but that was probably because of the amount of olive oil and vinegar I used to season it.

“This smells delicious.” Harry compliments my mum’s cooking playing Prince Charming and she smiles.

Good try, but my Mum already knows she’s a great cook. Still, it was polite.

“Hi, Coco. How are you?”

“Hi, Harry. I’m fine, and you?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

My mum sits down next to Coco leaving Harry a chair next to mine in front of them and tells us to help ourselves. I take Harry’s plate and serve him first under my mum’s attentive stare. This is probably surprising and amusing Harry. I bet he never imagined I would treat him like an actual guest but my family raised me to be a great host.

“Thank you, Blue.” He says.

A timid smirk takes over my lips that he can’t see and I shake my head before I grab my own plate and serve some fish and asparagus for myself.

“How did you call her?” My mum asks.

I tense up. I let him call me Blue because I know what it means to him. It’s that Elvis Presley’s song that he likes and I actually like it when he calls me that. I’d much rather have him calling me Blue than baby in front of my mother anyway. Harry stiffens on his chair though. I’ll let him be nervous for this one. That’s what happens when you overstep.

“Did you call her Blue?” My mum’s eyes widen.

“Isn’t that my name?” I smirk as I sit back down next to him.

“Yes, it is.” She smiles. “It’s just… You… People don’t usually call her that.”

Harry nods.

“I know. She doesn’t actually let me call her that but I knew she wouldn’t call me out in front of you.” He explains.

My mum laughs out loud before she also serves herself some dinner. I can’t believe he just said that. How can he be so shameless?

“Harry, why don’t you bless the table? You know, say thank you for this food.”

His green eyes widen as he stares at me. We’ve never done that in this house but I’ve had dinner with him times enough to know he doesn’t do that either. Coco giggles under her breath. My mum doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t know whether I asked him to do that because that’s something he normally does so I just wait for the fun to begin. He clears his throat.

“I… Uh, I’m sorry but I’ve never done that. I don’t want to like do something bad and be accidentally offensive but you can do it in Spanish if you want.”

“She’s just messing with you, Harry.” My mum swats my head and Coco laughs.

“¡Mamá!”

“De verdad, Blue, ¡qué vergüenza, por Dios! Compórtate.” (Seriously, Blue, that was embarrassing, for the love of God! Behave yourself.)

“Mamá, pero si a Harry le encantan las bromas. Isn’t that right, Harry? Don’t you love jokes?”

“I love a joke as much as the next guy.” He smiles.

“Oh, do you?” My mum smiles. “Then how would you like to hear a funny story about Blue?”

My eyes widen and my cheeks tinge red. Harry lowly chuckles next to me and Coco laughs and shakes her head.

“Eso te pasa por meterte con el invitado.” (That’s what you get for messing with Mum’s guest.)

“I remember this one time when Blue was over sixteen years old.”

“Mamá, no, no, la de la feria no.” (Mum, no, no, not the one on the fair.)

She nods and smiles mischievously.

“We were in Spain for the summer holidays and my family is from a small town in Spain and lots of small towns in Spain have these summer festivities where we have like a fair and free concerts and things like that so we were at the fair and there was this attraction that consisted on punching like a small punching bag that somehow quantifies the strength you have.”

I bring my hand to my face at the memory and Coco starts laughing.

“It was amazing.” She adds.

Harry glances at me with a teasing grin on his pretty face.

“So my son Rio challenged Blue and he hit it first. Blue’s very competitive so she got ready” my mum starts making gestures with her hands imitating me and I purse my lips trying not to smile “and she hit it so hard it effectively stick to the ceiling of the machine” my mum nods “for a few seconds and then when she was being all sassy to Rio because she had won, the punching bag came back and hit her on the back of her head.”

My sister holds her belly as she gives us a demonstration of her silent laughter and Harry laughs out loud too.

“That’s such a great story.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I nod.

“And this is delicious, Alizia. Did I pronounce it right?”

“More or less.” My mum giggles. “You can call me Allie, if that’s easier.”

Well, she really liked Harry. I understand, he’s being all charming and all smiles for my family. And he’s very handsome too. I’m both my mum and my sister are thinking that.

“So, Harry, do you study with Blue?”

His eyebrows raised on his forehead.

“Kind of.” He explains. “I’m a doctor but you know we study all our lives so yeah I study with her sometimes.” He smiles.

“Oh, you’re a doctor already?” My mum nods. “And do you also know Blue’s friends or just her?”

“No, I know them.”

My mum nods. I know that was her way of trying to find out how we met. I also know she probably doesn’t think we’re just friends anymore. I give her a smile and raise my eyebrows at her stare. Oh, no, she’s trying to figure it out.

“And where are you from? I hope you don’t mind me asking.” She smiles.

“I don’t. I’m from Bellamond.”

“Oh” Coco’s lips part as she looks at him as if he had just admit he was raised poor.

She’s so tactless I want to hit her on her head. I kick her under the table and she stiffens and frowns at me. I widen my eyes warningly at her and she just pouts and look away.

“That’s a very nice village.” My mum says. “You know I’ve painted quite a lot there. In that river that goes down the bridge to the train station.”

“Oh, yeah” Harry grins “My mum lives like seven minutes away from that bridge. I used to hang out on the river banks when I was growing up.”

“Oh, you did?” My mum smiles.

“Yes, I wish I could see one of your paintings. I bet they bring me nice memories.”

My mum loves that. He’s good.

“That’s what my paintings are all about.” She celebrates. “Maybe you could bring him to the next exhibit, nena.” She tells me.

“Sure.” I lie.

Of course not. I won’t just walk around with him on my mother’s gallery. That’s not what exclusive friends with benefits do.

“I would love that.” He explains. “Maybe it could be our next date.”

I choke on my corvina. My mum’s eyes widen and her lips part and Coco grins like she was in love. I’m going to press my hands down his throat and kill him.

“I’m kidding.” He explains. “I did say I like a joke.”

“I hate you.”

Coco laughs before she gets up from the table and starts picking it up.

“I’m going out.” She announces.

“With Chicco?”

Coco shakes her head. She waits until my mum is out of the room to tell us.

“Guido asked me out but don’t tell mum. You know how she gets.”

All excited and completely gone planning tacky weddings and doing ceramics. I chuckle.

“Don’t worry.”

“Guido Matteoti?” Harry asks her being the nosy soul he is.

She nods and Harry smiles.

“Well try not to break his heart, Coco.” He warns. “He’s one of the few decent ones of his kind.”

I chuckle while Coco takes both our empty plates and shakes her head.

“You guys are the perfect match.” She says.

I throw my head back and laugh while Harry just grins and raises his eyebrows.

“Too bad we’re just friends.” He shrugs.

This time it’s Coco who laughs before she walks away from the table. Harry slaps my thigh gently before moving his hand up and down grinning at me.

“I didn’t know you were so strong, baby.” He teases me.

I click my tongue and swat his arm.

“Stop it, you idiot.”

He chuckles and rests his left elbow on the table, tilting his body so he’s facing me and he raises his eyebrows as he wriggles his fingers.

“Come on. I’m a right-handed. I’m giving you a leg up.”

I roll my eyes and stare at his hand. He’s going to win. But I still please him and he grins when I hold his hand.

“Okay, ready, set, go.”

I push his hand as hard as I can but he’s not budging. At least he’s not pushing mine back either. I’m frowning and my entire face is wrinkled as I try to push his arm down but he just chuckles.

“Are you done?” He asks me.

I purse my lips and he chuckles.

“Careful, love” he pushes my arm back until it lays on the table easily “wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He chuckles.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Styles.”

“Styles?” He laughs. “You really are competitive, hey?”

“And you really are conceited.”

He chuckles. He’s about to say something when my mum walks towards the table with two bowls of natillas con galletas and she sets them in front of the two of us.

“I’m taking Coco to her date.” She tells us. “She thinks I don’t know but she’s wearing lip gloss. Una madre sabe esas cosas. Those are natillas, Harry. It’s Blue’s favourite dessert.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“Grasias, Allie.”

My mum smiles.

“See you, guys. It was very nice meeting you and having you for dinner, Harry. You can come anytime you want.”

“Thank you for having me. Well, it was really delicious so I’d gladly accept any future invites.” He smiles at me.

I roll my eyes. I get a spoonful of natillas so I don’t have to say anything but he’s smiling even if he’s trying not to as he tries my mum’s natillas aka the best dessert in the world.

“Fuck” he frowns but I know that face, that’s his appreciation face.

“I know, it’s the best dessert in the world.”

“It’s delicious” he agrees “but it’s not the best dessert in the world.” He smirks mischievously.

“Pancakes are breakfast, not dessert.”

“Wasn’t talking about pancakes.” His green eyes set on mine.

When I understand he’s talking about me, my cheeks tinge pink and I look away. He’s so dirty.

“You know” I change the topic “I’m a little worried about Marie and your friend.”

“Adam?” He sounds surprised. “Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless. He’s probably not the kind of person you think he is.”

“Why do you say that? Who do you think I think he is?”

He widens his eyes and shakes his head as if he was lost with my question and I chuckle. He’s got the sense of humour of an elderly man.

“You probably think he’s a womanizer selfish prick.” He shrugs. “Just like you think of me.”

I frown. That’s not what I think of him. I mean, it’s not all I think of him. I also think he’s smart and caring and affectionate and lovely but I won’t sweet talk to him.

“He’s not like you think.”

“How is he then?”

Harry shrugs.

“He’s kind.”

“Then how come he doesn’t have a girlfriend? How old is he?”

“He’s twenty-six.” He smirks.

“Why are you smiling? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”

“No.” He laughs. “It’s just funny how judgy you’re being.”

That offends me. I’m not being judgy, I’m just protecting my friend. Marie goes all out when she’s in love and she falls in love so easily and I do not want this guy to hurt her because she’s one of the best people I know.

“I’m just asking because I care about Marie.”

Harry nods.

“I know.”

“Is he like you?”

“Meaning?” His green eyes set on mine.

“Meaning, does he not do girlfriends either?”

Because that’s not the kind of guy who can be with Marie. His eyes seem to be tremendously amused with this.

“Not at all.” He chuckles. “He had a girlfriend for several years but they broke up after the accident.”

“What accident?”

His green eyes turn darker and he coughs.

“He was in the car with Gemma. I thought you knew.”

“How would I know if you didn’t tell me?”

He shrugs.

“I thought you had put two and two together.”

I shake my head. He gives me a sad smile.

“What I’m worried about” he adds “is your friend.”

“Marie?” I all but yell. “She’s lovely!”

“As lovely as you are? Because in that case we have a problem.”

I roll my eyes. He thinks he’s so funny.

“Real lovely” I defend my friend “she really is lovely. She’s nothing like me.”

It’s true. She isn’t. She’s sweet and caring and affectionate and lovely and lovable. His green eyes study me for the longest minute. I wish I could know what he’s thinking. I give him a questioning look and he sighs and pushes his empty bowl of natillas away from him.

“He’s got erectile dysfunction.” He tells me.

My eyes widen. But he’s twenty-six years old! My lips part. Oh, oh.

“After the accident, he had a lot of internal bleeding and he had a surgery. Well, actually, a few. He’s actually lucky all he got as a repercussion from the accident was that.” Harry explains. “But it’s really hard for him to even open up about it and it’s also hard to find someone who doesn’t care about that.”

“But… Can he not have sex at all?”

Harry sighs.

“Well the penetration is just part of sex and it’s not even mandatory. I mean if anything, the one who has trouble having an orgasm is him but, yes, he can have sex. He just has a prosthesis.”

I nod. I’ll google that afterwards because I have no idea how that works and I’m not about to ask him and make the whole thing even more awkward.

“But it’s still complicated. He’s gone through hell, Blue and I wouldn’t like someone else hurting him.”

The way he worries about him makes my heart swells for him. Granted, nobody wants their friends to suffer but I’ve never heard Harry talk that way about anyone. He really cares about his friend and that’s fucking hot to me. Everything he does is hot to me. Except when he acts like a vain jackass.

“If Marie hurts her, I don’t give a fuck she’s your friend. I want you to know that.”

Is he threatening us?

“Well, the same holds true for you. Marie is not as superficial as you think us posh girls are and even then, Marie is a lot better than me. She’s a lot better than everyone. She would never put someone down because of something like that. And if Adam hurts her, I don’t give a fuck he’s your friend.”

Harry smiles and nods before he leans in and brings his mouth close to mine.

“Give me a kiss.” He demands.

I smile before I do as I’m told and feel him smile against my lips before I lick his and deepen our kiss. He hums on my mouth and his fingers find my ponytail and take it off.

“I love your hair down.” He whispers.

“I’ve noticed.” I giggle.

“You look like an angel.”

He presses his lips against mine again. His hands move down to my ass and he pulls me to him so I stand up and straddle him and he smiles.

“You have nothing on the oven, right?” He jokes.

I laugh but keep kissing him so our teeth collide more than once. He runs his hands down my hair and cups my cheeks as he deepens the kiss. He hums.

“I want you, Blue.”

“Have me then.”

My voice sounds almost adolescent but my pulse sped up and my lungs flap humidly. It’s that easy for him. He just has to say that. He smiles against my lips but his tongue licks mine and his hands caress my back.

“What do you want to do, baby? Or better, what do you want me to do to you?”

I’m already wet. He’s going to dry me like a grape under the sun.

“Don’t be shy, love. Not with me.” He licks my lips. “You asked me to take you bare and to go harder the other night. Are you going to get shy now?”

“That was the heat of the moment.” I joke.

He stiffens under my touch and I know he’s panicking a little but I let him feel my smile against his lips so he knows I’m joking. He squeezes my hips tight as a sweet form of punishment.

“You scared me.” He whimpers like a boy. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

I cup his cheeks with both hands and force him to look at me. I can’t believe he’s second-guessing what happened the other night.

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had.” I confess and he grins.

It was also the first time I had someone bare but I’m not going to tell him that. This is enough confidence boost for today. When I set his face free, he presses a kiss on my cheek.

“Tell me what you want.”

I don’t know why I’m being shy. He has never made me feel anything other than wanted and desired during sex but I have to look away from the intensity of his stare.

“How can you be so shy now if you were yelling for me to go faster just three nights ago?”

“I was very turned on then…”

“And you’re not turned on now?”

Of course I am. My sex is swollen and dripping under my underwear. He would giggle if he touched me now. He grips my hips and lifts me from his lap, sitting me down on the table before he stands between my legs. Pressing one hand on my low back, he pulls me close to him until there’s no air between our bodies.

“I know you are.” He cups my sex through my tights and presses a kiss on my jawline. “Being close to me turns you on. I know it does.”

I clench my teeth but my lustful eyes probably give me away. I hate that he’s so confident about his effect on me. It makes me feel weak that he’s so sure of the power he has over me.

“I know because it’s the same for me.”

His confession parts my lips and I stare at him as if he had just given me the solution to every problem in the world.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He whispers on my ear. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m already only yours, you know that.”

His words charm me and with all the confidence I was lacking minutes ago, I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer pressing my knuckles on the back of his thighs. I devour his mouth and he groans but pulls away.

“Talk to me.”

“I… I want you to… Fuck me on this table.”

His pink lips part and his pupils dilate. I don’t know if that was enough. Now that he agreed to have sex only with me, I’m afraid I won’t be enough. After all, I’m not very experienced and I’m afraid he’s afraid to hurt me, what with how careful he’s been with me and all that.

“Baby…” I croon.

His eyes grow darker as I use the pet name he uses with me all the time. I try to go about this in the sexiest way possible. As if I was the one with the situation under control. I press both hands on his chest and licks my lips staring deeply into his eyes.

“I want you to do to me whatever it is you want.” I whisper before I press a kiss on the corner of his mouth and then his cheek and his earlobe. “Whatever turns you on, love” I lick his earlobe “Make me yours…”

“Jesus Christ, Blue.” He gasps.

It’s working? I think it is.

“It’s you.” He says out of breath. “You turn me on all the fucking time, love. With these thighs” he squeezes them against his hips “and this body, love, and the sounds you make… You drive me crazy.”

His fingers caress the skin on the side of my exposed neck as his green eyes study mine.

“Take this off.” He whispers, pulling at my sweater.

“No.”

He panics but I smirk devilishly.

“You do it.”

“Fuck” he giggles “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

He takes my sweater off and doesn’t waste another second to cup my breasts and squeeze them on his hands. His mouth attacks my neck and I throw my head back and puff air out as he kisses my skin. His hands feel amazing on my breasts. I never thought having my breasts touched could feel this good but every where he places his hands seem to set on fire.

He pulls my skirt up my hips and holds it on my waist and grabs the hem of my tights pulling them harshly down my legs. When I kick them off me, his fingertips find my lace underwear and I hear his breath hitching on his throat. He looks down between my legs so as to see my underwear.

“This is fucking sexy.” He whispers, caressing my underwear with his fingertip.

I cup his cheeks and bring his face closer as my mouth attacks his neck. I kiss, suck and nibble his skin as my hands work on the button and the zipper of his jeans and he growls and squeezes my ass cheeks on his hands.

“You’re killing me, baby.” He groans.

He lets me kiss his neck as I please but when my hand finds his arousal, he growls and turns me around so my belly is against the table.

“I want to fuck you like this.” He whispers on my ear. “Take you from behind and ruin you.”

I moan as he squeezes my breast on his hand.

“So fucking pretty.”

His hand pulls down my undies harshly and he caresses my ass before he slaps me. I gasp and moan at the sudden contact.  

“I love your ass.” He squeezes the flushed skin on his hand. “It’s so perfect.”

“Harry, please, fuck me. I can’t take it anymore.”

I feel his chest rumbling as he laughs behind me.

“Glad to see you’re not shy anymore… Just minutes ago you couldn’t tell me what you wanted and now look at you, begging me to fuck you on your mum’s dining table. Such a dirty girl, Blue… My dirty girl.” With that he thrusts inside, all the way, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

The feeling is exquisite. Having him inside me, warm and hard, as he holds my hips and move my body up and down against the wooden table. I wish we could stay forever like this, where there’s nothing but him and I’m nothing but the part of me he’s touching.

“Harder, love” I whisper “Fuck me as hard as you can. Ruin me.”

“Fuck, baby.”

He thrusts hard and fast in and out of me and I don’t even know how he can be so good at this. It’s ridiculous. He tangles his fingers on my hair and pull me up the table until my bare back hits his chest and his other hand finds my clit. He presses frenetic circles on my soaked bud of nerves.

“You like it like this?” He groans as he pushes inside me. “You like it when I fuck you hard and fast, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes…” I gasp “God, Harry…”

“I’m not gonna last long, baby. You drove me crazy.” He whimpers. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes.” I gasp. “Just keep… I’m so close… Fuck, love, you’re amazing.”

“So are you, my love.” He presses a kiss on my shoulder. “Baby, I can’t… Take it. Oh, fuck!”

He all but screams behind me as I come undone. My whole body shakes and my legs fail me so the hand that was on my hair wraps around my waist and keeps me in place. His thrusts become sloppier, slower and deeper as he unloads inside me.

If this isn’t what heaven feels like, I don’t know why the call it paradise.

[thedyingmoon]

💜 This I Promise 💜

***

XLIII. Whole

***

It seemed that it was just another ordinary day.

(F/N) chose not to go to work that day. It’s not that she’s being lazy, no. The events that occurred a week ago took a toll on her well – being. She didn’t really remember much of what happened that day except for Kenny helping her to get up, but after that, she got really sick that she couldn’t get up from her bed.

Sometimes, Erwin would visit her, bringing her flowers and reassuring her that she would get better soon. They would have long, nonsensical conversations, and over time, she learned that the man known as the former Commander of the Scouting Legion was not so straight – laced or boring, after all. He made her smile, made her laugh, and made her feel better. She was happy spending time with him.

It seemed that it was just another ordinary day.

And it was on that day that she realized that there was something missing. It’s as if there was a hole in her heart that Erwin, himself, could never fill, despite all his efforts to make her happy.

(F/N) sighed and shifted uncomfortably on her bed. It was a really warm afternoon. The curtains weren’t drawn, despite Marie’s urging to let fresh air enter her room. She was still in her night gown, refusing to get up and change into a different kind of clothing. She just didn’t feel like it.

What’s wrong with me? She asked herself for the hundredth time that day, seeing that she couldn’t do anything to lift her own spirits up.

It was then that she heard noises just outside her room. She heard someone speaking in muffled voices and she actually heard a deep voice talking in response.

Oh, it’s Erwin. He has come to visit me again,… she thought,…

… but didn’t feel any excitement, at all.

The door slowly and quietly opened, as if the visitor didn’t want to wake the occupant up. She waited patiently for Erwin to greet her,…

… when a raven – head laid steel – blue eyes on her. Not blonde hair, not blue eyes,…

… it’s him.

Levi was a bit startled upon finding out that (F/N) was awake, fully expecting her to be asleep that time of the day.

Just like Erwin, he had been visiting her frequently. Although he chose times like these when (F/N) was surely asleep, he never failed to bring her gifts such as flowers or foods. He didn’t miss a single day. He was always there for her, despite her not knowing it.

So, his eyes actually widened upon seeing her awake. And he was never prepared for this moment.

But, if Levi wasn’t prepared for this, neither was (F/N).

Upon seeing him, her heart beat escalated into alarming heights. Her eyes felt like popping out of its sockets. Her fists decided to have a mind of its own by clenching the pure white sheets of her bed. She was clearly caught off – guard.

But, despite all that, she felt happy. It wasn’t just any kind of happy.

She felt complete. Whole.

So, it was you who was missing. She thought, then smiled at him. This gesture clearly surprised Levi.

“Well, are you going to stand there all day?” she joked, her voice still a bit hoarse.

“Oh! I – “ Levi muttered, entered the room, and closed the door behind him.

He’s stuttering again. It’s so cute.

For a few moments, he just stood there, not knowing what to do in this kind of situation. His time spent with Petra in similar locations were so different that he felt like a total piece of shit in front of such an innocent girl. Well, he had been an ass, so he knew he deserved all the embarrassment he was receiving from this torture. Of this torture of being in the presence of the girl he respected so much.

Of being with this girl he had learned to love without such lust, or blemish.

And as he looked at her angelic form on that large bed, he can’t help but feel that his soul was slowly burning with all the sins that he committed against her. He felt that he was slowly being punished. He instantly felt that he didn’t belong here.

He didn’t know what to do!

But, she changed all that with another smile.

“I’m sure that my fever isn’t contagious, Mr. Shunerman.” She said in a sing – song voice. “I’ am fully aware that you would not drop dead just by coming here near me.”

“No! It’s nothing like that. I – “

Ah, there with the stuttering again,…

“Oh! It’s not the fever, isn’t it?” she joked, theatrically clutching her chest like she was in total pain. “It’s my state of uncleanliness, isn’t it? Oh! I knew it! My heart, it hurts! It burns! Ah!” she hilariously, yet successfully, mimicked a person in a dying state. The sounds she made and the way she looked made Levi smile. Again, she was showing him another side of her he was not aware of.

“You’re not unclean. I’m telling the truth.” He said to her.

“Come here.” She said to him, gesturing for him to sit at the edge of her bed. He did so, still cautious of their positions and the fact that they were alone inside a room. He’s still supposedly a engaged man, he must not do anything to raise the suspicion of others. And above all, he must not break Marie’s trust towards her. She wants him to help her get her memories back, not let Erwin win her.

But, how could he do that, when he’s fully aware that she’s just going to remember all the bad things he did to her in the past? How could he help her when he’s fully aware that they’re both happy now as they were without her memories?

How could he when things are going good between the two of them?

He knew he must do his duty,…

… but, how?

“Are you okay?” (F/N) asked him, her head tilted just a bit. “You don’t seem well.”

Levi snapped out of his reverie and looked at her, surprised that she’s actually asking him if he’s okay, when she’s the one lying in bed.

“I’m good, but how about you? I’m worried,… about you,…” he let his sentence hang like that. Clearly, he didn’t really know how to have proper conversation with women.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Shunerman. I’m okay now, now that I saw you – “

(F/N) suddenly bit her lip. It was as if the words just slipped accidentally from her mouth.

But, nonetheless, he was happy to have heard that from her.

He smiled and handed her a single – stemmed tea rose he found in Shunerman’s garden. She took it and inhaled its sweet scent, its petals softly and gently brushing against her little nose. She blushed and smiled, closing her eyes and letting the scent overcome her senses. She received a lot of bouquets from Erwin containing different kinds of lovely flowers, but there was always that single – stemmed tea rose lying solemnly on her bedside table. Receiving the same thing from Elvis made her realize it was him who had been giving her that same flower, and not Erwin.

So, he had been visiting me, after all,…

“You are so unfair!” she suddenly said to him, her little lips forming a very disappointed pout.

“W-what?!” Levi uttered, taken by surprise once more by her swaying moods.

“You have been visiting me, and you’re not even waking me up! How unfair could you get?” and now, she looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

“Be reasonable, young lady! I want you to take a good rest so you could recover quickly.” Levi rebuked, not knowing what else to say aside from the very first things that formed inside his head.

But, she only laughed at what he said to her, adding to the discomfort he was experiencing.

“That’s – that’s called flirting.” She announced, wiping a single tear from her eye. “Lady Delilah taught me that.” Slowly, she turned her eyes towards him and regarded him seriously now, the rose still in her hand. “She said it’s a necessary tool for every lady to learn for the Winter Season. Do you – do you think it’s even that necessary? Why do I even have to flirt with strangers? To get myself a rich bachelor? Don’t you think it’s weird, the way nobles interact with each other? It seemed all fake, I hate it.”

(F/N) looked down at the rose and started twirling it with her fingers.

Levi just nodded. Honestly, he loved how she was very frank and honest with the things around her.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to.” He simply said to her. “I’m sure no one would hate you for that.”

She glanced at him once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just being yourself, after all. No one would hate anyone for just being honest. I mean, look at me.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. You’re not very gallant, are you, My Lord?”

“I’m an asshole, My Lady. A total and hopeless piece of shit.” Levi said with that very handsome, devilish smirk of his.

(F/N) laughed at this. She liked how he was being honest with her.

Yes, honesty. It was the thing that most probably drew her to him in the first place.

She hoped all guys were honest, just like him.

“Now, I see why Miss Jacqueline fell in love with you.” She told him. “Where is she?”

“Business.” He told her. Well, it was the truth.

But, that - ?

“My Lady?”

“Yes, My Lord?” she said, the title she called him was merely in jest.

“What if I told you that I’m not really engaged with anyone, would you go out with me in the Winter Season?” he said, trying to test the waters.

And she answered truthfully.

“Of course. I don’t see any reason not to. Besides, I actually prefer you than those nobles here in Sina.”

“Even Erwin?”

“Yes!”

Levi’s eyes widened in surprise. On the other hand, (F/N) felt she said something she shouldn’t have. A few seconds later upon that realization, she skin turned a bright shade of crimson. She clenched the fragile rose, almost breaking it. She quickly ducked underneath her sheets in total embarrassment.

“I shouldn’t have said that!” She whined, her voice muffled by the heavy sheets. “Oh, you must think I’m a very sinful woman now,…”

That was being sinful? Levi thought with a smile as he crept closer towards her, trying to remove her sheets away from her.

He was happy that he somehow got the answer he wanted to hear from her.

“You’re not sinful, (F/N). Look at me.”

(F/N) felt the sheets being taken away from her. Her skin crawled with the sudden loss of protection. She opened her eyes and noticed how Elvis’ face was just inches away from hers. She blushed even more at the sight, making Levi think that her fever was returning.

He held out a hand. (F/N), thinking that he was going to hit her, closed her eyes and braced herself. But, instead of pain, she felt his hand gently touching her forehead.

“You’re hot. You need to get some rest.” He whispered to her, the sound of his deep voice tickling not only her ears, but all of her sensitive nerves. He was about to leave when the girl grabbed a fistful of his clothing.

“Please! D-don’t leave me,…” she said shyly. She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Stay.”

Levi turned back to her and placed a rough, yet gentle hand on top of her head. He started ruffling her hair with a very affectionate look in those blue eyes.

“Alright, I’ll stay. But, promise me that you’ll eat something first before I leave.”

“I promise,…”

***

Petra and (F/N) waited patiently amongst the crowd. The Scouting Legion was about to leave the town.

And among them, (F/N) saw a dark – haired man on top of the darkest stallion she had ever seen. Beside him were two more people, one a teenage girl with unruly brown hair, and the other a blonde young man who seemed about the same age of the dark – haired man. The brown – haired girl looked very vivacious while the blonde man looked really calm and composed.

On the other hand, the dark – haired man seemed to look very suspicious. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be in this expedition. Or he doesn’t want to be in this place, period.

But, then, those steel – blue eyes,…

It looked as though it was hiding a lot purpose for being in this wretched place.

“Petra, look at that man.” She said to her sister, tugging at her sleeves while pointing at the said man.

"What about it?” Petra just muttered, her eyes busy scanning the Scouts in search of her favorites, Erwin Smith and Mike Zacharius.

“He looks like new a recruit. I’ve never seen him before. Petra!”

“What?!” Petra almost screamed until she finally laid eyes on the man.

Her eyes suddenly grew wide.

“Y-yeah. He is new.”

“And the other two.”

“I wonder,…” began Petra, suddenly becoming less giddy as she looked at the three unknown people, especially that man with the dark hair.

“What?” (F/N) asked.

Petra looked at her and smiled. “Oh, nothing. Just spacing a bit, is all.”

Little did she know that it would be that same man who would become her first everything; her first Captain, her first partner, her first love, her first,…

Little did she know that it would also be that same man she would betray and cheat on,…

Little did she know that she would be the cause for that man to hurt the one and only person for him,…

… the only person,…

… who truly loved him.

Not because of what he is,…

… but for who he is,…

***

~ @levi4mikasa , @yepps , @nerdyphantomlady , @shewolfofficial , @unhappysap , @super-peace-fangirl , @fangurl-ontgeside , and @emilyackerman78 . 💜

***

💜💜💜

***

[missakk]

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did.

I met Mountain View six years ago when our best friends got married. He was so exceptionally handsome that my only thought was, “wow, he’s way too hot for me.” So I spent the rest of the wedding making myself available to another handsome young man and barely spoke to Mountain View. Years later he would tell me that we had danced to “can’t help falling in love with you,” by Elvis Presley, that I had eaten the salmon at the rehearsal dinner, and that when we first stared talking he had thought, “she’s a girl I could marry.” What I do remember about that time was that about a week after the wedding, when I was feeling somewhat dismayed that other guy had not called me, I was struck with a thought that came from absolutely nowhere asking me, “why aren’t you thinking about, Mountain View?” I remember feeling completely puzzled that my subconscious seemed to be asking me a very direct question that I had not been looking for. That was the exact moment that he took root inside my brain. Over the weeks and months that followed he would also take root in my heart. Mountain View lived in Arizona while I lived in Seattle. But he had asked a mutual friend for my phone number and soon he began calling me every day. Every day turned in to multiple-times-a-day, which evolved into hours at time. It didn’t take long before we were best friends and I was in love. In the early days, we spent hours getting to know one another, talking about songs and books that made us think, he played me the guitar and read me poetry over the phone. It was the embarrassing stuff you do when you find yourself innocently and authentically connecting with someone in a new way. But it was also more than sweet nonsense. What we had was real, and we both knew it - hell, even our friends knew it. But the distance meant we were stuck. I was in grad school and he had a job. We were 26 and even when you feel in your core that this love might be real, you’re not really willing to make that leap. So we lived in limbo. For a decade. For a lot of years being in love with Mountain View made me miserable. I was only ever half present for my life and only capable of giving 50% to my relationships with other men. My best friend and love was only present in an intangible way. He was always available to talk and listen and celebrate or console but never actually, physically there or ever really mine. This affected me differently than it did him. I was hurt by having to pretend that my heart wasn’t constantly aching for someone; the ache was consuming. 
In those years I achieved a lot. I traveled a lot. I experienced a whole lot and I grew into someone that I am deeply proud of. But my relationship with Mountain View was like an anchor. It made my life heavy and hard. Every victory was bittersweet because I could only ever describe it to the person I loved most and longed most to share it with. He made me half a person, and one who lived part time in a fantasy. But I was never able to quit him. I don’t intend to make it sound one-sided. In fact in the six years we’ve know one another, and over thousands of hours we’ve spent talking on the phone I have probably only called him half a dozen times. Our relationship was born, grown and maintained by his efforts. He loved me too. Possibly in a bigger way, but he’s always been able to divorce himself from his feelings in a way that I can’t comprehend. He is desperate for my approval and inspired by my words. I’m the voice in his head, the desire in his body and his most beloved fantasy. But being half alive doesn’t affect him like it does me. He lies, constantly. To his assorted girlfriends. To his friends. To me. And mostly to himself. He’s a tragic and toxic figure. A man who is far too old to be so lost and stuck in a life that he never bothered to design. He’s full of contradictions that he can’t see. I’ve told him more than once that he’s a hypocrite – preaching an ideology and never really bothering to try and live up to it. In my more generous moments I remember that he’s also my dearest friend. The person who has seen me fiery and unforgiving and always came back around when the flames died down. He’s the person who listens to my every word, on any subject, and tells me I’m brilliant, even if I’m being embarrassing or silly. He tells me to dream bigger and make plans and he check’s in to ensure I’m on track. He tells me I’m beautiful, and rare and that’s he’s never been in love like this before. He makes me want to change my plans and take his name and focus on loving more and having less. He remembers everything I’ve ever said. He builds his life around my words and he has become as much me as I am. He and I have been ‘us’ for so long that I’m no longer able to remember if I learned it or learned it from him. We know all of each other’s stories and I can predict with incredible accuracy how he will respond to any comment, joke or question. We grew up together and perhaps even more than that, despite distance and time, we grew together. Always together. But what they never tell you is that sometimes all the good does not outweigh the bad. And the love isn’t enough. Sometimes you will lose, and in the losing lose most of yourself. Sometimes the person you love will disappear and so will the promises they made and the plans you had for your life. Sometimes you’ll be left, forced into a lonely reality where you have to learn to be whole all on your own and face very ugly truths about the person who has captivated so much of your time, intention and life. Sometimes you’ll spend a decade building a person and walk away with nothing but scars and a lesson. And sometimes, you’ll wonder if any of it was ever real - if he was sick or you were stupid. You’ll go to bed ill and wake up empty – staring at the world like it’s a place you’ve never seen before. And then the numbness and questions will wear off and you’ll be pissed. Angry in violent and unrelenting ways. You’ll have one-sided fights with yourself in the car, playing out arguments that will never happen. You’ll ache for blood and justice that will never come. The hatred and rage will get you through endless nights and hazy days. And then you’ll take solace in the knowledge that he is paralyzed and stuck – a prisoner in a life he built and was too scared to leave no matter what goodness was promised ahead. And that knowledge will buoy you until another desire creeps in. Motivation. The desire to make meaning and to not stay stuck. You’ll give up the company of anger and sadness and decide to start over. To do all of the things that the two of you had planned and to not waste one more minute feeling half alive. Motivation. She’s a powerful companion.

[everythingyear]

You said you wouldn't, and you fucking did.

I met Mountain View six years ago when our best friends got married. He was so exceptionally handsome that my only thought was, “wow, he’s way too hot for me.” So I spent the rest of the wedding making myself available to another handsome young man and barely spoke to Mountain View. Years later he would tell me that we had danced to “can’t help falling in love with you,” by Elvis Presley, that I had eaten the salmon at the rehearsal dinner, and that when we first stared talking he had thought, “she’s a girl I could marry.”

What I do remember about that time was that about a week after the wedding, when I was feeling somewhat dismayed that other guy had not called me, I was struck with a thought that came from absolutely nowhere asking me, “why aren’t you thinking about, Mountain View?” I remember feeling completely puzzled that my subconscious seemed to be asking me a very direct question that I had not been looking for. That was the exact moment that he took root inside my brain. Over the weeks and months that followed he would also take root in my heart.

Mountain View lived in Arizona while I lived in Seattle. But he had asked a mutual friend for my phone number and soon he began calling me every day.  Every day turned in to multiple-times-a-day, which evolved into hours at time.  It didn’t take long before we were best friends and I was in love. In the early days, we spent hours getting to know one another, talking about songs and books that made us think, he played me the guitar and read me poetry over the phone. It was the embarrassing stuff you do when you find yourself innocently and authentically connecting with someone in a new way. But it was also more than sweet nonsense. What we had was real, and we both knew it - hell, even our friends knew it. But the distance meant we were stuck.  I was in grad school and he had a job.  We were 26 and even when you feel in your core that this love might be real, you’re not really willing to make that leap.  So we lived in limbo. For a decade.

For a lot of years being in love with Mountain View made me miserable.  I was only ever half present for my life and only capable of giving 50% to my relationships with other men. My best friend and love was only present in an intangible way.  He was always available to talk and listen and celebrate or console but never actually, physically there or ever really mine. This affected me differently than it did him. I was hurt by having to pretend that my heart wasn’t constantly aching for someone; the ache was consuming.   In those years I achieved a lot. I traveled a lot. I experienced a whole lot and I grew into someone that I am deeply proud of.  But my relationship with Mountain View was like an anchor.  It made my life heavy and hard.  Every victory was bittersweet because I could only ever describe it to the person I loved most and longed most to share it with. He made me half a person, and one who lived part time in a fantasy. But I was never able to quit him.

I don’t intend to make it sound one-sided. In fact in the six years we’ve know one another, and over thousands of hours we’ve spent talking on the phone I have probably only called him half a dozen times. Our relationship was born, grown and maintained by his efforts. He loved me too. Possibly in a bigger way, but he’s always been able to divorce himself from his feelings in a way that I can’t comprehend. He is desperate for my approval and inspired by my words.  I’m the voice in his head, the desire in his body and his most beloved fantasy. But being half alive doesn’t affect him like it does me.  He lies, constantly.  To his assorted girlfriends. To his friends. To me. And mostly to himself.  He’s a tragic and toxic figure.  A man who is far too old to be so lost and stuck in a life that he never bothered to design. He’s full of contradictions that he can’t see.  I’ve told him more than once that he’s a hypocrite – preaching an ideology and never really bothering to try and live up to it.

In my more generous moments I remember that he’s also my dearest friend. The person who has seen me fiery and unforgiving and always came back around when the flames died down.  He’s the person who listens to my every word, on any subject, and tells me I’m brilliant, even if I’m being embarrassing or silly. He tells me to dream bigger and make plans and he check’s in to ensure I’m on track.  He tells me I’m beautiful, and rare and that’s he’s never been in love like this before. He makes me want to change my plans and take his name and focus on loving more and having less. He remembers everything I’ve ever said.  He builds his life around my words and he has become as much me as I am.  He and I have been ‘us’ for so long that I’m no longer able to remember if I learned it or learned it from him. We know all of each other’s stories and I can predict with incredible accuracy how he will respond to any comment, joke or question. We grew up together and perhaps even more than that, despite distance and time, we grew together.  Always together.

But what they never tell you is that sometimes all the good does not outweigh the bad.  And the love isn’t enough.  Sometimes you will lose, and in the losing lose most of yourself.  Sometimes the person you love will disappear and so will the promises they made and the plans you had for your life.  Sometimes you’ll be left, forced into a lonely reality where you have to learn to be whole all on your own and face very ugly truths about the person who has captivated so much of your time, intention and life. Sometimes you’ll spend a decade building a person and walk away with nothing but scars and a lesson.  And sometimes, you’ll wonder if any of it was ever real - if he was sick or you were stupid. You’ll go to bed ill and wake up empty – staring at the world like it’s a place you’ve never seen before.

And then the numbness and questions will wear off and you’ll be pissed.  Angry in violent and unrelenting ways.  You’ll have one-sided fights with yourself in the car, playing out arguments that will never happen.  You’ll ache for blood and justice that will never come.  The hatred and rage will get you through endless nights and hazy days. And then you’ll take solace in the knowledge that he is paralyzed and stuck – a prisoner in a life he built and was too scared to leave no matter what goodness was promised ahead.  And that knowledge will buoy you until another desire creeps in.  Motivation.  The desire to make meaning and to not stay stuck. You’ll give up the company of anger and sadness and decide to start over. To do all of the things that the two of you had planned and to not waste one more minute feeling half alive.  Motivation. She’s a powerful companion. These are the stories of how I decided to do everything. Try everything. And go on as many adventures as possible.